If I Had It All To Do Over Again
by Velvel "Wally" Spiegler

I’ve been a latecomer in certain aspects of my life. I was thirty-eight years old by the time I earned my bachelor’s degree. New York University, where I had returned after an absence of thirteen years, granted permission to complete the few remaining credits at Providence College after our move to New England. I had to register for a six-week intensive course in Cultural Anthropology, in the summer session of 1972; it was all that was available. At the initial meeting, the teacher, a professorial spinster, entered the classroom wielding a pile of at least six paper backs and a hefty textbook, then promptly announced that this was the reading list for the course. At that moment, three quarters of the class walked out; only a few of us remained. I spent the next six weeks reading constantly, at lunch, after dinner and all weekend long. The pressure of having to complete so much work in so short a time was unimaginable, but towards the end of the session I became enchanted with anthropology. It became the modus operandi of my thinking and eventually changed my entire outlook on Judaism.

The first question the course addressed was “what is culture?” To the uninitiated it would seem like such a simple matter, however through discussion we found that not only was it unsure but in fact there was no single answer. But among the possibilities, which stood out in my mind, was that culture is deceptive; it is the ordinary daily activities we take for granted. The foods we eat, the clothes we wear, the way we earn a living, the way we greet one another even the way we bring up our kids, are all culturally induced. For the most part, we are not even aware of these cultural norms. In another cultures these actions that we presume normal might be totally foreign.

Another feature is the categories of cultural institutions, among which we find regional and local variations in art, literature, law, language, marriage, family organizations, economic subsistence, food production and religion among others. It was religion that caught my attention. Nowhere in any indigenous people, now or in the past, was religion considered a separate entity from the business of everyday activities; there weren’t separate times to perform secular chores as opposed to religious rituals like we’re accustomed to in this civilization. All activities were recorded under the banner of culture. Jewish rites, for example, are intertwined with planting crops; the changes in seasons indicated sacred time. In fact up until recently there was no word in Hebrew for religion; the extensive debates in the Talmud were the issues of every day life. Today, Modern Hebrew has a word, but that’s just to stay abreast of the global community.

Culture delineates patterns of behavior, the do’s and the don’ts, the positive and negative commandments. Take a careful look at our system of Mitzvot and how the Torah links them to universal patterns of culture: taboos on sexuality, forbidden foods, marital legislation, and civil and criminal laws, to name a few. It’s almost as if a Heavenly tribute is to be paid to those areas of life. What’s more, our very identity as Jews is tied to the moorings of our culture.

Culture is the filter that explains reality to its populace. Without it, all the likely incoming sensory data would be overwhelmingly chaotic. Through the traditions of Judaism, a culture grounded in spirituality, we learn what is profane and what is sacred; culture is our spiritual lens of holiness. God is not so interested whether we perform Mitzvot; He cares that we maintain an ongoing relationship with Him, the Source of Creation. This insight demonstrates that through the on-going transmission and maintenance of sacred law, nations can crumble but spiritually proficient cultures survive.

What happens when cultures become disconnected from their traditions? We can observe the fate of nations that became trapped in the plight of expanding civilizations or who fell prey to the missionary’s zeal. They contracted the diseases of their host nations, both mental and physical. They decayed and finally dissolved like the American Indians and other indigenous people around the world.
By the time the mini-semester came to an end, I no longer viewed Judaism as a religion, but as a culture scattered in Diaspora. I wondered if we could continue to exist much longer under our present exilic conditions. Our recent ancestors survived in tightly knit enclaves of Jewish culture, the ghetto. But could we, enmeshed in American society, maintain our sense of individualism.

The professor granted me an “A” as a final grade, even though I only merited a B plus; she said the extra grade was for my enthusiasm. She also awarded me a blue glass owl, which still sits on a bookshelf, insinuating that I was a wise old owl. I learned more about my people and myself by studying the comparative ethnology of others. I know that if I had to do it all over, anthropology would definitely be my chosen career.