The Veneer of Virtue

There’s an interesting discussion about discrepancies between a person’s mode of dress and his/her true inner character going on over at Stx’s blog. This is in response to Stx, who wrote “Devorah, can you post something here that might help us understand this? I know you have a good story about it...Not sure if it's sharable though.”

I’m not sure which story you’re referring to Stx, but I will relate the first one that comes to mind. Naturally, it took place at the Granit.

The Granit is quite a social scene. There was one boy in particular who quickly ascended the social strata. He was extremely outgoing and he made it his business to know everyone. Popular and talented, he always had a posse of girls around him. But once the teen years hit, he started veering off the beaten path and got himself into a wee bit of trouble. By tenth grade, he had been kicked out of quite a few high schools, his mildest offense being smoking. Drugs, alcohol, you name it. And he was as slick as they come, quite a smooth liar at times. One night in particular stands out in my mind. First his parents found drugs in his room and he argued that his little brother had framed him. Later that same evening, he got hold of a bottle of vodka. Suffice it to say that what ensued was, er, not pretty.)

His parents were at wit’s end. They sent him to Israel. He spent the summer at Ohr Somayach, and then started Elul zman in Ner Jake.

When he waltzed into the tea room Erev Pesach, I didn’t recognize him: white shirt, black pants, tzitzis hanging out, a large velvet yarmulke and briskers. It was a total 180 from the last itme I had seen him. No way, I thought. Not possible.

Many of my friends who had known him even longer than me were very skeptical to say the least. Did he really transform himself that quickly or was this all just a show? At first, my friends bit their tongues, but something just wasn’t right. Despite his new mode of dress, he was still talking to girls. A lot. Eventually, we confronted him. His response went something like this:

“I needed to make a statement; I needed people to immediately recognize that I changed, and am heading in a different direction. When girls I used to hang out with see me, I need them to hesitate before they try and touch me. I don’t want them to run and give me a hug. Since I’ve been back, I had a strong desire to attend a certain concert. But then I looked in the mirror. I saw the peyos and realized there’s no way I could show up there looking like this. And that stopped me from going.

“Listen, I’m constantly struggling with my yetzer hara. For all intensive purposes, I wasn’t frum for about 4 years. And yes, it’s hard to change. In the beginning of the year, I certainly was on Ben Yehudah every night. But I don’t do that anymore. And dressing like this prevents me from going back. It’s a constant reminder and it keeps me in line. So no, I’m not necessarily the person these clothes represent, but I’m trying to change that.”

I usually take everything he says with a grain of salt. But this time he seemed sincere. Stx, I hope this story sheds some light on the issue.