Beyond ‘Unorthodox’ Many years ago, my wife’s grandmother visited us on a busy Friday afternoon as we were preparing for Shabbat. A Holocaust survivor who had repeatedly escaped the Nazis, she grew up in a Hasidic family in the town of Sighet, Hungary, but claimed to have abandoned Judaism as a teenager before the war had begun. Observing us, she complained that our tablecloth was the wrong color, that our candlesticks weren’t quite right, and that we were clearly deficient Jews for having failed to prepare chicken soup for the Friday-night meal. “Of course, I eat pork,” she concluded, “but if you’re going to do all this, do it right.” This conversation came to mind as I read Schneur Zalman Newfield’s