You’ll excuse me if I don’t talk about the dead queen, or about the new prime minister who says it’s time to end the monarchy, while also ending the moratorium on fracking.

All while, as a world, we have just experienced the hottest summer in history, and drought is being followed by torrential, dangerous rains.

You’ll excuse me if I just want to talk about the wedding (if you’ve been following…).

Maybe you, too, would rather hear about a wedding.

There was actually a brief but torrential downpour at the wedding, but not until we were under a roof at the party. It didn’t relieve the extreme humidity, but it did feel cleansing. My sister-in-law said it was a good sign, that this marriage was bringing blessing to the world.

And it was wonderful.

Perfect, in fact.

It turned out exactly the way my daughter wanted and imagined it. The best DIY (Do-It-Yourself) wedding ever (in my estimation).

Of course, that was after a good bit of drama over the previous weeks: certain family members who (in the couple’s estimation), "didn’t care.”

This drama played out partly in their cutting almost all traditional religious elements from the ceremony—just two days before the wedding!

When I spoke to my daughter, she explained how upset and hurt she and her fiance were by various family members.

My role was to help them change perspective; those who showed up, were showing up because of their love and joy at the occasion. We would surround them in a bubble of love, and forget about the “don’t cares.” It would be intimate and meaningful, and this would add to their own joy.

Through our talking and listening, the elements they had taken out in anger and frustration, made their way back into the ceremony.

Essentially, the wedding was a Jewish one, performed in a traditional way, with some Catholic elements.

There was one thing decidedly “modern” that the officiant asked for: to write their own personal vows—but the couple did not deliver.

In a moment of confidence, I asked my daughter about this: no, she said, they were doing the old-fashioned vows like you see in the movies; this had always been her dream.

What traditions to keep in? Which ones to change?

There are still many rabbis who refuse to even perform an interfaith ceremony. “Build a fence around the Torah,” is what they say; protect Jewish ways from “infiltration” by “foreign” elements and “corruption.” Keep it “pure.”

I’ve been thinking about my own fences since the wedding, and then over the last couple of days since reading this week’s Torah portion, Ki Teitzei.

As I thoughtfully made choices leading up to and throughout the day of the wedding, I realized how much stronger my own boundaries have become.

Personally, I decided that, if the choices I made responded to or acknowledged someone else’s generosity and love, or increased joy and love in general, that was the choice to make.

I had to balance this with making sure not to exert excess energy that would send me over the edge to another long “crash.”

So, for instance, I was going to wholeheartedly welcome a houseful of sleepover guests, two of whom were doing my daughter’s hair and make-up (something I worked through a couple of week back, if you read my blog).

And I was going to welcome an extra, very-last-minute sleepover guest; this would bring my son-in-law love and joy—but ended up doing it for us, as well!

I was also going to buy the variety of celebratory foods I wanted for the house, not just bagels and cream cheese, which would have been the easiest and cheapest way. And I was going to serve them myself, despite one daughter’s protest to let people take care of themselves.

These all added to the festivities, made my guests feel welcome and cared for, and brought joy all around.

The foods would be typically Jewish, like my mother would have gotten from Zabar’s, no matter the cost. Such generosity around food had been a positive aspect she’d possessed; it was an important part of my family tradition.

Thus, I “invited her in,” and it brought not only joy, but healing.

At the wedding venue, where the party was, I continued to make choices that put myself and my children at the top of the list.

I chose to converse with those that brought me joy, I did not stop to take care of those to whom I normally would have felt an obligation. Instead, I let others take care of them, and others take care of me.

I remember noticing, as I consciously walked past certain people and circumstances, “That was the ‘old me.’”

Yes, I put up some fences—but very consciously and mindfully.

This week in Torah, we have examples of women who are lusted after and “taken” by men, then rejected.

What to do?

We have examples of newly married women accused of not being virgins by their husbands.

How to prove it one way or the other, and what to do with them?

We have examples of women whose husbands have died. What to do with them?

The answers make an effort to lie in favor of the women, probably revolutionary for their time, but manage to keep the women guilty or vulnerable.

The woman taken and rejected remains possibly cared for and most definitely unhappy; the test for virginity is basically a medieval witch trial.

The widow is given her dead husband’s brother as a substitute, (good for protection, perhaps, but most likely an unhappy choice for both of them). If he refuses, her only option is to publicly spit in his face and throw a sandal at him; she remains out in the cold.

These are very much based on cultural norms of the Ancient World, and the need to change them.

There are other messages from the parsha that are more timeless, like the commandment to provide for the stranger amongst us, to pay your laborer before nightfall so they can eat, and to remember what it feels like to be a slave.

These are universal messages of love and caring, not dependent on cultural norms of a certain time and place.

Thankfully, my daughter didn’t have to worry about being a virgin, or any of the other things mentioned above.

How lucky that she had the option to say, “Till death do us part,” not out of obligation, but as a real choice of commitment to her own personal choice of a husband.

When we say we want a fence around the Torah to protect our traditions, we must think carefully which traditions we are upholding, and which need revamping.

If we stick to the Bible only as literal law passed down from God and our prophets, we act as though the world has not changed. We do not allow for evolution in the world.

We each personally, like the world, evolve.

Though my daughter and son-in-law did not personalize their vows with their own interpretation, and they were definitely not from Jewish tradition, it was a profound moment when I heard them each say, “Till death do us part.”

The timeless and universal truths are what bring us closer to the kind of world we want to live in.

In general, I think this is a good test for our boundaries. We should always ask ourselves: do they bring more generosity into the world, likewise increasing joy and love within and around us?

As we continue to do our personal work of Elul, getting ourselves ready for the High Holy Days, thinking about the vows we may take for the coming year, may we carefully consider the kinds of fences we put up, and how high they need to be.

May we also consider the fences that need taking down.

May we each be conduits for generosity and joy.

And say Amen.