COVERING THE HEAD
THE BASICS OF COVERING THE HEADCover your head so that the fear of God may be upon you.
by Rabbi Daniel Judson
There is perhaps no more identifiable outward sign of Jewish identity than wearing a kippah (/kɪˈpɑː/ kih-PAH; Hebrew: כִּיפָּה, plural: כִּיפּוֹת kippot – also known as a yarmulke in Yiddish or a skullcap on English). Wherever I travel, in Jewish or Christian circles, people generally recognize my kippah as a sign that I am a Jew. Interestingly, even though it is such a recognizable symbol of Judaism, nowhere is it prescribed in Jewish law that we must wear a kippah. Judaism distinguishes between law and custom. Jewish law refers to rules that are binding on observant Jews; customs are optional observances. Nevertheless, people often adhere to the pressures of community customs more stringently than they do to the demands of law. The wearing of a kippah is a custom that developed through the ages, with Jews wearing different types of headcoverings at different times and places. While most Jews who wear a kippah are religiously observant, a small number of Jews wear a kippah simply out of ethnic pride, to identify themselves publicly as Jews (a practice that may have been adopted following Israel's decisive victory in the 1967 Six-Day War, which created a surge of Jewish ethnic pride). Today, kippot are typically round; some have prayers inscribed on them, some have sports team logos or a fuzzy bear stencilled on them for kids. Most often they come plain and unadorned, reflecting the simple humility that lies at the core of wearing one, reminding the wearer that there is One greater than us. This contrasts with the practice of many Christians, who honor God's presence by taking their hats off in church rather than putting one on.
THE BASIC OF OBSERVANCE
Unlike many of the other rituals covered in this series of posts, there is no blessing for wearing a kippah. Most Jewish rituals have a traditional blessing that praises God for the opportunity to perform the particular ritual. But the wearing of a kippah is a very simple act. We just put it on when we wake up in the morning and that's about it. That is the simplicity implied in the text from Genesis that is often used to justify the practice of wearing headcoverings: "And Jacob went out from Beersheva and travelled toward Haran" (28:10). The Rabbis infer that Jacob would not have left his home with his head uncovered—especially since we know he encountered God on the way, during his dream of a ladder reaching to heaven.
At this time, the custom of wearing a kippah is followed predominantly by Orthodox men, who wear it in all places throughout the day. In most non-Orthodox synagogues (Reform, Reconstructionist, and Conservative), you must cover your head when interacting with the Torah in any way, so you put on a headcovering when you have an aliyah (a Torah honor, making the blessings before and after the Torah reading), when you read from the Torah, or when you study Torah. Some Jews don a kippah when they walk into a synagogue for any reason. In some Reform synagogues, these "requirements" are optional; in others they are not.
There is neither a special way to put on a kippah, nor a front or back to a kippah (unless there is a logo you want to wear in a special place). Typically, you put on a kippah as soon as you wake up, even before putting your feet on the floor. Historically, kippot were worn on the crown of the head, but there is no standard way to wear a kippah.
A BRIEF HISTORY OF HEADCOVERINGS IN JUDAISM
The Rabbis of the Talmud tell us that two types of people routinely covered their heads: married men (who were supposed to cover their heads in the presence of scholars as a sign of respect) and mourners. The Talmud also relates a few stories about people who covered their heads and bodies when studying mystical texts or engaging in mystical prayer. One Rabbi even suggested that God covered God's own "head and body" when sweeping past Moses as he did in the cleft of the rock on Mount Sinai (Exodus 33:12-23).
The practice of covering the head during prayer did not, however, become a custom for all Jewish men until the thirteenth century in Germany (a very late date by the standard of Jewish history). The rabbis of that period offered the same reason for covering the head as do most rabbis today: yirat shamayim (awe of God). The word yirah (the root of yirat) means "awe", and is central to Jewish life. The ten days that are introduced by Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish New Year) and end with Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) are called the yomim noarim, "days of awe," from the same root, because on these days we stand in judgement before God. Yirat shamayim means to be filled with a mix of fear and wonder of God. We recognize that there is a power greater than our own, and this power is reflected in joy, in sorrow, in mountaintop vistas, even in the food we eat for breakfast. We recognize that God is the ultimate source of everything. When we cover our heads, we remind ourselves of this reverence for all God's creation.
Historically, Jewish women covered their heads for different reasons than men. The Rabbis equated hair with sexuality. The Talmud considered women who did not cover their hair promiscuous and subject to divorce by their husbands. Traditional Judaism is concerned with modesty, and uncovered hair is considered too provocative for everyday interactions. As a result, the Rabbis required all women to cover their hair during prayer, and required married women to cover their hair at all times to avoid sexually exciting anyone except their husbands.
Up until the sixteenth century, married Jewish women covered their hair with shawls or scarves. Then, in the sixteenth century, some Jewish women began to cover their hair with wigs, sparking a great deal of legal debate: if married women covered their hair so that they would not be desirable to anyone but their husbands, the wearing of beautiful wigs seemed to undermine the spirit of the law. As a result, many rabbis came out against wigs. The majority of rabbis, however, argued in favor of wigs – perhaps reflecting the desires of their wives – and wigs became accepted in most traditional (that is, Orthodox) communities, and remain so today. Most married Hasidic women take the prohibition against uncovered hair a step further: they shave their heads for their wedding and often wear a long scarf at all times.
Muslim women today engage in a similar practice with the hijab (veil). To some, it is a way to express their identity, much as the kippah emerged following the Six-Day War in 1967. Most argue that it is a reflection of the teaching in the Qur'an that urges women to cover the head as a sign of modesty (Surah 24, verse 31).
Today, a growing number of women who identify with the liberal movements of Judaism have chosen to adopt headcoverings themselves, but by wearing a kippah instead of the traditional scarf or shawl. Some liberal women wear a kippah in synagogue, and a small number wear one all the time. A woman who wears a kippah all day is making a bold public statement. She risks strange looks and even open disapproval or condemnation from some Orthodox members of the Jewish community.
KIPPOT AS SYMBOLS OF COMMUNITY MEMBERSHIP
by Rabbi Daniel Judson
My grandfather served as the vice president of one of New York City's Orthodox synagogues for thirty-seven years, from the mid-1930s until the 1960s. (He said that he never wanted to be president because his father had never been president of the congregation.) He was strictly observant in nearly every way, attended synagogue regularly, and observed Shabbat. Nevertheless, he never once wore a kippah outside the synagogue. Now nearly three-quarters of the people who attend the same synagogue he led wear kippot all the time: to work, on dates, or at social gatherings.
In the past thirty years, members of the traditional Jewish community have boldly asserted their identity, taking a stand against acculturation and assimilation. Wearing a kippah became part of this shift in attitude, observance, and practice.
While the Orthodox world has reassessed the wearing of kippot, the Reform movement has similarly engaged in a long struggle over headcoverings. In the nineteenth century, many Reform synagogues had a strict policy prohibiting the wearing of kippot, even by rabbis, because they considered headcoverings old-fashioned, doing nothing to inspire a religious attitude. Some synagogues even put up signs that articulated such a policy. The Reform movement officially went of record in 1885 as disavowing headcoverings, but in recent years there has been a strong resurgence among Reform Jews to wear kippot and other ritual items of prayer.
Wearing a kippah in Israel may be even more complicated than it is in America. The style of a kippah you wear often indicates where you live and which political faction claims your loyalty. If you are Orthodox and politically conservative, you are likely to wear a colorful knitted kippah, called kippah serugah. If you are a bit more moderate, you generally choose an all-white knitted kippah. Students who study in yeshiva (a full-time study center) often wear black felt kippot. A suede kippah usually indicates that you consider yourself modern. And wearing a shtreimel (a fur hat with a kippah of sorts affixed to its center) means that you are a Hasid, reflecting a tradition that hearkens back to Eastern European shtetl (Jewish village) life.
THE SPIRITUALITY OF THE HEADCOVERING
By acknowledging the presence of God above, covering the head reminds us that we are in constant dialogue with God, what theologians call a covenantal relationship, one that is not limited to prayer or the study of sacred text; it permeates everything we say and do. As a result, it also has the potential to keep us from straying down the wrong path. When we realize that God is always present, we may think twice about what we say or do beforehand.
CHRISTIAN PARALLELS TO HEADCOVERINGS
Christian women often cover their head in church during prayer—a general sign of submission to God that emerged from 1 Corinthians 11:7-9, which says:
For a man indeed should not have his head veiled, because he is the image and glory of God, and the woman is the glory of man. For man was not made from woman, but woman from man; and indeed man was not created for the sake of the woman but woman for the sake of the man.Some argue that the practice originally represented an acknowledgement by women of their inferiority (hence, men did not cover the head) and was later rejected as a result of this sexism.
Another parallel practice to the wearing of a kippah is the traditional headcovering worn by Catholic clergy. The pope and bishops wear a skull cap called zucchetto that looks like a kippah. The pope wears a white zucchetto, while bishops wear red ones. The origin of the zucchetto is unclear; it first appeared in paintings in the thirteenth century. In the sixteenth century it became a custom for all clergy to wear a square cap with three or four ridges, called a biretta, over the zucchetto. Finally, the pope, bishops, and cardinals all wear a white mitre, a large, triangular headcovering. The mitre became part of the papal headgear around the turn of the first millennium. The Catholic Encyclopedia rejects any connection between the various headcoverings worn by the pope and the biblical descriptions of headcoverings worn by high priests [although the parallels and similarities are uncanny]. Since the wearing of a headcovering is restricted to clergy in both Roman Catholic and Anglican Churches, while wearing the kippah is open to all Jews, the extent to which these two practices are similar is limited.
At a broader level, though, the underlying rationale for wearing the kippah – the observance of yirat shemayim (fear and awe of God) – is common to both traditions. Christian liturgy is replete with hymns expressing awe of God. Martin Luther, commenting on the verse from Psalms that says we should "serve the Lord with fear, and exult with trembling" (Psalm 2:11), wrote the following: "Let somebody bring this into harmony for me: exult and fear! My son Hans can do it in relation to me, but I can't do it in relation to God. When I'm writing or doing something else, my Hans sings a little tune for me. If he becomes too noisy and I rebuke him a little for it, he continues to sing but does it more privately and with a certain awe and uneasiness. This is what God wishes: that we be always cheerful, but with reverence."
