Oct. 30, 2006 - 19:35 MST

WHAT'S AN ERUV ?

And the answer is given by Jean Torkelson of the Rocky Mountain News of that paper, in this mornings edition. Full quote follows:

WITH A STRING AND A PRAYER

Man helps Orthodox Jews expand Sabbath borders

"Yaakov "Jim" Watkins part-time occupation is defined by a string."

"Not just any string -- a thin Kevlar string that looks like something you'd tie a package with. but this string becomes a powerful symbol of faith when Watkins oversees its placement, ever so carefully, around Jewish neighborhoods."

"For some reason, I don't fully understand," muses Watkins, "I'm the point man for eruvs in Colorado."

"An eruv, the Hebrew name for a boundary, defines an area within which Orthodox Jews can perform tasks that otherwise would be forbidden on the Sabbath except in their homes.

"Watkins, a burly 55-year-old who's studying to be an Orthodox rabbi, has built one of Denvers three eruvs and is responsible for weekly maintenance on two of them. Now he's on the verge of getting one built in Boulder."

"The eruv is constructed with nearly invisible lengths of string fastened high up on telephone or light poles. When poles aren't available, the boundary is defined using bridges, buildings, even the backyard fences of strangers."

"Watkins' labor is never appreciated by the public, and that's just fine with him."

"At the top of a 30- or 40-foot pole it's something Jews know is there, but nobody else does," he says."

"It can take years to obtain permission from city halls, utility companies and private property owners to build an eruv and, just as crucial, to return regularly to ensure the boundaries are still intact."

"Within the next month, with all his OKs in hand, Watkins plans to go before the Boulder City Council to formally request permission to build an eruv in north-central Boulder.

"Experienced linemen actually go up on the poles to fasten the eruv string with screws and metal bands."

"I'm terrified of heights," Watkins says.

It can be difficult to explain the concept to municipal officials, so imagine when Watkins arrives on a stranger's doorstep with a curious request."

"This is kind of a longish story," he may begin, "But do you mind if I take a look at your back fence ?"

"Even in this suspicious age, most homeowners OK a traipse through their yards by the stranger."

"People don't worry -- maybe because I look too old and fat," he chuckles."

"To get a handle on eruv building, there's no finer guide than the cheery and patient Watkins, who has plied his esoteric trade for the last 14 years."

"It's not difficult, just oddball," he says of his craft, "To expect a reporter to get it right from the beginning -- that's something you don't expect of rabbinic students !"

("Well lets give it a try.)

"Watkins plonks down a 5,000 foot spool of sturdy Kevlar string on the wood table dominating the living room of his cozy east Denver home. Bookshelves line the walls, at least 2,000 books all told, most of them on Jewish law and Hebrew texts, which is where one finds the eruv's 3,000 year old reason for being."

"OK," he says, with relish. "Let's get down to -- as we say in Yiddish -- reality."

Orthodox Jews keep the Sabbath holy by resting on that day and doing no work. Forbidden work includes carrying anything, from babies to briefcases outside the home."

In ancient times, that wasn't so difficult when Orthodox homes were nestled closely to each other "and the whole area could celebrate (the Sabbath) as one family," Watkins says."

"Few such places exist in modern America, so that creates a problem. On the Sabbath, Orthodox Jews would be virtually homebound if the concept of home wasn't expanded."

"Rabbis found a solution in creating the eruv, an unobtrusive boundary. Watkins found his calling when he was asked by former Denver Rabbi Mordecai Twerski to begin maintaining the Denver-Glendale eruv."

"With the eruv, all Watkins' interests dovetailed. His background is in construction and he's a student of Jewish law. He hails from generations of Jews, despite his Anglo name, which his grandfather acquired from an immigration offical."

"Synagogues raise money for eruv building, which runs about $20,000 initially for collecting permission, documentation and construction. Annual upkeep is between $10,000-$15,000."

"Each week, Watkins drives while a friend eyes the uruv boundaries to make sure nothing's broken down."

"If it's intact, word goes out on a recorded message: "The eruv is up, Shabbat Shalom !" that means Orthodox Jews can leave their homes, carrying what they will inside the eruv with confidence."

"Yet Watkins wants people to understand something about the eruv itself. "It's a string ! Just a string !" he says. In other words, its not a sacred thing in itself, anymore than a bulb on a Christmas tree is sacred."

"What is sacred is the Jewish law on which the eruv is based. Here, the easygoing Watkins grows serious. In their 20s. he and his wife became Orthodox when they saw how society was breaking down while the ancient laws still stood."

"They made more sense than the secular world did," he says. "It's been 33 years since I was in college, and if you look at what's happened in the world -- everything that fills the headlines -- it's clear we're not capable of inventing our own rules. Meanwhile these rules have worked 3,300 years."

"You could say," adds the eruv point man, "they have a documented track record."

++++++++++++++++++++++

Reading this aritcle I discovered that I resided my teen years in the Denver/Glendale eruv which takes in a good part of East Denver.

I guess because I am The Wondering Jew this article was of great interest to me.

Yet, it made me wonder, the string is just a symbol of home grounds. Why can't we as a society, if it can still be called by such a name, build our own eruvs -- even if only mentally -- which would allow each group to go their own way without interfering with others lives.

Perhaps then we could meet each other on mutually agreeable ground and work out solutions to problems affecting us all.

Now I know the answer to WHAT'S AN ERUV ? . . . . . . . . . . .

Blog