Playing it Safe
- Erin Conway
- Jun 1
- 3 min read
Shavuot is a celebration of the receiving of the Torah at Sinai, but my easiest entry into the conversation was the anecdote about dairy. Pogrebin states that dairy features in Shavuot because keeping Kosher wasn’t a refined practice. Instead of getting it wrong, the newly formed community decided to keep to milk only to ‘play it safe’. Despite living in the Dairy State, I had never celebrated Shavuot. However, the idea that limiting choices when answering that question was in actuality an aversion to 'getting something wrong' deserved further exploration beyond asking my sister-in-law for her aunt's amazing recipe.
In actuality, Shavuot is significant because of its intersection between the conveying of a particular message and being open to the message. At times this is the religious message and other times it is a deeper personal reflection. We waver back and forth between asking ourselves Rabbi Irwin Kula's question, “What am I supposed to do with my life?”, and how we explain our present circumstances to others. "How did you get to this place now?" To answer we spin a story that appears to make sense to our audience but also serves to talk ourselves into answering Kula’s question. This year on Shavuot, I wonder if my answers had ever changed to those question, or were only new translations of one story in which I ignored what I knew I should be doing. Had I played it too safe?
That question alone can keep you up at night, but on Shavuot, there's another way. Pogrebin celebrates Shavuot in her chapter by attending an all night learning session. Participants select from a great variety of topics and activities meant to spark an answer to Kula's question. The sleepless night is also designed to pair vulnerability with openness. Be it jet lag or a new bed, during travel, my mind usually opens to a new urgency to make a change. In fact when lacking sleep, my entire body vibrates, perhaps new combined with lack of readiness.
“. . .Standing at Sinai today means paying attention to what is heard at the foot of the mountain, after the lightning and thunder subside, when it’s quiet.” Kula’s question is “What do you hear?” (255)
I have never stood at the foot of Sinai. Still, I clearly remember standing in front of the Western Wall over a decade ago. Only days before I had attended a traditional Yemenite Henna Ceremony. My brother and his bride to be first received the henna paste. Then, they walked through the guests and pressed the textured color into our hands. My brother stood next to me for a brief moment making firm, gentle contact between our hands. He wished I would receive ‘what I wanted. What I was looking for.’
Paste cracks.
In that moment, I squeezed a blank piece of paper into the stone. I told myself I was being open to the universe. To any opportunity. But, was I unable to hear what should come next? Too scared to choose? Since that missed moment, how many others had there been?
Stone cracks.
Another explanation of the blank paper is that I avoided a choice to decrease probability of failure.
Cracks.
My sister-in-law sends me a holiday greeting and emojis featuring dairy. Keeping Kosher is relatively easy for me, because I'm a most of the time vegetarian. It is already a path of least resistance, but it doesn't have to be safe. Dairy can be tricky to use in recipes. It can form a skin; the liquid boils and burns quickly. In fact, I've never made a cheesecake that hasn't cracked. Life is filled with imperfections that become spaces for next. Today on Shavuot I am many 'safe' choices removed from a pivotal Sinai moment ten years ago. I don't think it's worked out. I can think of no better reason this year on Shavuot to be bold with my purpose than that. I’m filled with an overwhelming urge to bake.
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