Sex and the Holy City
By YAEL GOLDSTEIN
Seven Blessings
By Ruchama King
258 pages. St. Martin's. $23.95.
The light, knowing sexiness of Ruchama King’s Seven Blessings is probably the last
thing that the average reader would expect the ultra-Orthodox enclaves of
Jerusalem to yield. But, then again,
if King can be believed, there’s very little that the private lives of the
ultra-Orthodox can’t yield, if pushed deftly enough: a kerchiefed mother of
six, for instance, advising her single friend to “buy some bikini underwear”;
an ancient Hassidic woman frolicking with her scholarly husband in the shower;
a “pack of slinky sex kittens” lurking beneath the dark and dourly modest
clothes on the streets of Meah She’arim. Perhaps this is only King’s version of
ultra-Orthodoxy, but whatever it is, it’s fun, breezy, and it carries along
with it a homey wisdom that’s a refreshing alternative to all things "Sex and
the City"–related. Halfway through the amusing chronicle of bad dates and
missed signals that makes up the book’s core I came to think of Seven Blessings as “Sex and the City”
for the family values set.
At the center of the many interlocking tales of love that
make up this delightful book lies Beth, a fiercely independent-minded, fiercely
lost and lonely, American Orthodox Jew supplanted to Israel. She flounders with
her career and with her faith, but her overriding concern is her love life. At
39 she has yet to be touched by a man other than her father, and her prospects
for righting this wrong are dwindling in inverse proportion to her spreading
hips. (We see her eating french fries and cholent bean stew a lot.) Lucky for
Beth, there happen to be two master matchmakers who consider her singleness a
personal challenge, and who make it their business to be as pushy and needling
as they need to be in order to marry her off. As she struggles against their
drastic dictates and her own defensive instincts, she comes to understand a
great deal about not only what she wants in a husband, but what she wants in a
life.
Looking for love alongside Beth are Akiva, a sweet and
spiritual man with a debilitating twitch that he sees as a blessing, and
Binyamin, a hunky painter and recent returnee to the fold, whose desire for
absolute physical perfection in a woman gets him blacklisted by all of
Jerusalem’s matchmakers. Even the matchmakers themselves have romantic woes. Tsippe,
a holocaust survivor married to a man whose life she saved in the camps, yearns
for passion and romance from her husband instead of the “sweetly quiet” life
they share. Meanwhile, Judy, a beautiful former rebbetzin, whose husband is now
an exterminator, feels that something has disappeared from her marriage along
with her husband’s role as Torah scholar. For all of these reaching souls, the
romantic search is part and parcel of their search for the right connection to
God, a fact which keeps their obsessions with marriage from becoming entirely
cloying to the reader.
In the end, Seven
Blessings is as much a book about faith as it is a book about matchmaking:
faith in God, in a certain set of writings and precepts handed down by one’s
ancestors, in oneself, and, of course, in love. As Tsippe says to a worried
Beth, fretting over how to spot her intended, “If he’s not for you? Believe me,
you know right away. And if he is for you? You can marry him, you can have
children with him, you can spend your life with him, and still, you never
know.”