Women who inspire: in honor of Rosh Hodesh Nisan

I grew up in a modern Orthodox synagogue in NW London.  The Jewish world that I was exposed to there was not one that I could continue to live in.  While I made my spiritual home in the progressive Jewish community, I am a firm believer in a pluralist Jewish community where a diversity of paths are followed.  Even while recognizing that we all place some boundaries around our concepts of Judaism, in most cases there is little to be gained when one path seeks to infringe on the religious expressions of another, or seeks to deny their validity within Klal Yisrael (the community of the Jewish people).

As I was re-entering Jewish life as a young adult, within the context of a progressive Jewish community, I did spend some time with Jewish women who remained affiliated with modern Orthodox communities who were intent on making change happen from within - seeking to have monthly women-only prayer services where women would be able to read from Torah, seeking an answer to the problem of agunot (women denied a religious divorce from their husbands which prevents them from remarrying), and seeking opportunities for serious Jewish study for women.  I admired their patience and determination, even as I was challenging the halachic foundations upon which limits were imposed on their ability to make change.

Today is Rosh Hodesh Nisan and we are less than two weeks away from Pesach - our festival of liberation and freedom.  The Exodus story begins with brave women who worked within the system to transform it - Yocheved, mother of Moses, and his sister, Miriam, and Shifrah and Puah, the midwives who disobeyed Pharaoh's command to kill all the Jewish baby boys.  In their honor and memory, I share two youtube videos below that highlight the wisdom, determination, and bravery of women who today are helping to transform modern Orthodox Judaism from within.

First, a follow-up on the series of blogs we posted in December, in solidarity with Women of the Wall.  Over 100 women and 50 men were at their Rosh Hodesh morning service at the Western Wall this morning.  More and more Israelis are joining them each month.  This month they sang, and even danced in the women's section before, as is necessary under the current Israeli Supreme Court ruling, they moved on to Robinson's Arch for their Torah service.  Ultra-Orthodox men continue to shout abuse from the men's side of the mechitza, and this time chairs were thrown, as evidenced in this clip.  Thankfully, no-one was hurt, and police did intervene to remove the men responsible for the violence.

Second, Sara Hurwitz speaks at the Jewish Orthodox Feminist Alliance Conference (JOFA) in New York City.  Sara has been the focus of much ire in the Orthodox community, along with Rabbi Avi Weiss of Yeshivat Chovevei Torah and the Hebrew Institute of Riverdale, NY, when he gave her the title 'Rabba' to replace the previous title, 'Maharat', which had been an indication of Sara's completion of the same course of study undertaken by Rabbis, and her position as a member of the clergy team at the Hebrew Institute.  Due to an inordinate amount of pressure and protest from some Orthodox bodies, the 'Rabba' title has been retracted.  But Sara Hurwitz remains on the clergy team and, as you will see from this edited video of her presentation at the conference, she continues to inspire and present herself with great dignity, and continued optimism for the future of women's learning and leadership within the Orthodox Jewish community.
Yasher Kochech! - May you have strength!
Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

The power of inclusion & exclusion: in solidarity with Women of the Wall

Part of a solidarity blog series for Women of the Wall.  Each piece is written by a member of the Rosh Hodesh group of Congregation B'nai Israel.  Tonight's blog is by Heidi Gassel.

My first memories of Temple are sitting high in a balcony with other children and women during Purim. I remember being sad that I couldn't be with my daddy who was sitting below with all of the other men. I looked at my bright polka dotted grogger but it just wasn't fun. Even though I was just three years old, I still remember crying "Dada" and my mother comforting me. My father died unexpectedly of pneumonia just five months later.

My mother continued to bring all four of us to the orthodox synagogue. She made sure that her three daughters and son were involved in the Orthodox Synagogue and part of the community. She encouraged my then teenaged sisters to be active in the youth group and they ran for office. My sisters ran for Treasurer and Secretary and won. Even though they were active in their jobs, they still had to sit up away from the men. I continued to ask why we were not allowed to sit on the main floor. I remember feeling left out and not as important as the men.

One night, after a youth group meeting my mother noticed that some teenaged boys from New Haven were about to head home during a giant snowstorm. We lived near Mystic, CT and this is not a short ride especially for an inexperienced driver. My mother insisted that the boys stay with us where they could be safe - she probably saved their lives. The boys had guitars, sat by the fire and had a sing a-long with all of us. I was only four but I remember feeling very spiritual about the jewish melodies they sang.

The boys slept downstairs, the girls slept upstairs; it was very innocent. The snow was cleared by the morning and the boys got home safe and sound. Shortly after, my mother got a call from the Synagogue. She was called a brazen hussy, she was told she was no longer welcomed in the orthodox synagogue and that her daughters were no longer elected officials for the youth group. My sisters were devastated.

I didn't know about this until some years later when my sister Michele, alav hashalom (may she rest in peace), was on her death bed. She told me the entire story, from her perspective. We had just had an argument about organized religion. I then realized that the day the orthodox community denounced her and our family, was the very day that she no longer wanted to practice Judaism. That was the day the jewish community lost my sister. Two very strong, smart and spiritual jewish people were lost due to such sexist standards and that's really a shame.

My siblings are much older than I am. My mother joined a Conservative temple. I was happy sitting with everyone else. A year later, a reformed temple opened up in Groton. It was at the Reform temple that I felt connected for the very first time. The Rabbi was young and funny. I remember waiting for each of his sermons...I remember sitting on the edge of my seat and then falling off in laughter as he performed puppet shows. His sermons challenged me, provoking thought...I was only six or seven years old! The cantor played guitar, it was wonderful.

We stayed with this Temple till I was 12. We were very poor in a rather wealthy community. I found acceptance from the Rabbi. One day he announced that he was moving away. I remember crying. One day, shortly after he had gone I was attending hebrew school. My teacher was female and a mother of one of the other children. She made a callous comment about my clothing and snickered at the fact that I wore the same clothing last week. We didn't have money for a big wardrobe and it was bad enough that I got these comments at public school but to receive it from a grown woman from our congregation...was humiliating.

I told my mother I wasn't going back. And I didn't. I was not to be Bat Mitzvah-ed. I would not be wearing the tallit. I remember seeing my brother's Tallit and Tefillin when he was Bar Mitzvah-ed in the conservative temple. The Tallit was passed down to him. It was my understanding that I would not get to wear a Tallit in the conservative temple; my brother told me how special the tefillin was and told me not to touch it.

When I was 18, I moved to Chicago on my own. I did not know a soul there. I was lonely and yet one Friday night I walked into a synagogue. I didn't know anything about the synagogue but I just walked in. And, I was home. The music was universal...it didn't matter what sex I was...it didn't matter what denomination it was. I was home when I was there. I would go from synagogue to synagogue. And I always felt like I was home when I heard the music.

I met my soulmate a few months after moving to Chicago. One day I was talking to his niece. She told me of her Rabbi and how he inspired her. She told me he was funny and thought provoking all at once. As I was about to tell her that he sounded like my childhood Rabbi the words "Rabbi Knobel" flowed out of both of our mouths simultaneously! Over a thousand miles away, and there he was...my childhood rabbi!

I went back to hebrew school and started to learn again. Unfortunately I had just joined a touring post alternative band and wasn't able to continue. I do plan on going back someday. I do want to read Torah and I do want to wear the Tallit. I feel fortunate to be in a day and age when I will have the opportunity to wear a Tallit and that our daughter will be able to as well. I have seen many beautiful tallitot and admire the art.

Rabbi Peter Knobel and Cantor Jeff Klepper,1983 

In 1997, Rabbi Knobel married us and Cantor Klepper played melodic guitar at our wedding. It was the same music I remembered from childhood. My very favorite memory of our wedding is when the Rabbi wrapped the tallit around me and my bashert. We were soul-mates, foreheads touching, wrapped in beautiful judaic culture, wrapped in history, wrapped in a tallit I felt safe and at one with my bashert. It is a beautiful memory.

It wasn't until we had our daughter that I realized some things about being a Jewish girl in 1960's America. We had a really nice naming for Madison Michele who is named after my late sister. But I found out that in the 50's and 60's when my sisters and I were born, just my father went to the synagogue to name us. It's kind of sad to think of the birth of a daughter as being less significant than the birth of a son. I'm happy to be a part of a community where I can sit where I want, wear what I want, and to be a mother who can tell her children that we all have these opportunities. Our daughter and son can sit with us and wear what they want and enjoy the sermons and music of a male Rabbi, a female Rabbi and a female Cantor.