How I Began Making Wimples
I am often asked how I began making wimples.
This is my story.
Raya Zahava was twelve years old and preparing for her bat mitzvah. She had attended her local Hebrew school where she learned about the tradition of wimples and had been encouraged to create and decorate a wimple of her own to be used during her bat mitzvah.
Raya had always loved quilts, so the perfect wimple for her was a quilted one. She also loved the many people in her life, and wanted to pull them together into her wimple. She asked them for “pieces” of themselves – bits of fabric cut from their clothing or something that represented her connection to them – to sew into her wimple.
The pieces started arriving – a bit of dance costume, an emblem from a baseball cap, a section from a suede kippah, a tie, a handkerchief, a piece of wedding veil. Raya wanted to use the fabric from her worn-thin baby quilt for the back of her wimple. She chose royal blue velvet for the border, and ribbons in four different colors, each color holding significance to her, for the ties.
The Torah that would be used during Raya’s bat mitzvah was an important family heirloom owned by her grandparents. The Torah, once owned by the Czar of Russia, had been given to Raya’s grandfather when he was in the USSR to study, and later publish, fragments from the Talmud which were housed in the Leningrad Library. The Torah was small – only ten inches tall. The wimple would wrap around the Torah a couple of times.
I was asked to make the wimple.
Raya’s mom mailed me royal blue velvet for the border along with a small envelope stuffed with fabric pieces. I opened the envelope and let the contents fall onto my dining room table. My jaw dropped when I saw the motley array of mostly drab colored bits. Some pieces were frayed, some stained, some were scrunched and others knotted. How was I going to make something beautiful out of this I thought? But it was on closer inspection – when I found the chewed bit of dog toy, and the one inch square of shag carpeting that I stood in disbelief.
It stretched my abilities as a fiber artist to find a way to include each piece. I took the shag carpeting apart and created fringe around the emblem from the baseball cap. A red shoelace hid the bulky edge where the fringe tucked under the patch. I also made another type of fringe – finer and softer than that of the carpeting – from the frayed end of a knotted drawstring. The tiny bit of dog toy found its place, as well as every other piece from the envelope.
When the w
imple was complete, the colors I once saw as drab, gave the piece an antique look. The border of royal blue velvet edged in purple satin ribbon gave it a rich – even regal– appearance. I was amazed at the end product. It was nothing less than stunning – the perfect binder for an heirloom Torah.
I sent it off to Raya who called me as soon as she received it. Her mother was out of town for a few days she said, and hadn’t seen it yet, but she had to call me and tell me how much she loved it – how it was so much more than she had been expecting.
The pieces in Raya’s wimple ended up portraying the different aspects of Raya herself – the family tradition lover, the dog lover, the Yankee fan – as well as connecting her to, and honoring, the important relationships in her life and
her connection to Judaism.
Raya’s mother put a book together to go along with the wimple. It holds extra bits of the fabrics, as well as the letters sent along with each one, stating where and from whom each piece came and its significance.
After being used to bind the Torah at her bat mitzvah, Raya’s parents had the wimple framed. It is now prominently displayed in their home. In conjunction with the book, it will continue to be a richly meaningful part of her life.
Ultimately, each family that receives one of my wimples, has Raya Zahava to thank for her unique vision. She has given new meaning and life to a tradition that had almost been lost by the Holocaust.