Morethodoxy: Exploring the Breadth, Depth and Passion of Orthodox Judaism

Mahara”t Sara Hurwitz

I was outraged and shocked to read of the recent arrest of Nofrat Frenkel, a woman who was arrested at the Kotel, the Western Wall, for wearing a talit and carrying a Torah.  Now, I know that the issue of women praying publicly at the kotel is complex.  Yet, I was outraged at the thought that religious fundamentalists have cornered the right of religious and spiritual expression at one of the holiest sites in the world. And I was shocked that after all these years, we are still fighting the same battles for women to have equal access to all the gifts that Jewish ritual offers.  There are days when I think that the Orthodox movement has made tremendous strides towards greater inclusion, finding ways for both men and women to express their religious selves.  And then there are days, like last Wednesday, where I find myself disappointed and distraught at what the future holds.  Those of us who embrace an Open Orthodoxy, let’s help each other continue to strive for greater inclusion for men and women to express their religious selves, both here and in Israel.   

I asked Rivka Haut, one of the co-founders of Women of the Wall, and a beloved congregant at my synagogue, the Hebrew Institute of Riverdale, to respond to last Wednesdays’ incident.  Rivka writes: 

On Dec. 1, 1988, I had the privilege of organizing a halakhic women’s tefillah at the Kotel. Now, almost exactly  21 years later, after countless legal proceedings, resulting in  three Israel Supreme Court Decisions, two films, an anthology, and many other public and private events,  Women of the Wall are still embattled, struggling for the right to pray as a halakhic group at the Kotel, to wear tallitot and to read from a sefer Torah.

On Rosh Chodesh Kislev, Nofrat  Frenkel, while praying with WOW, was detained by the police, interrogated for more than an hour, because her donning of a tallit at the Kotel constituted a criminal act. We do not know what further consequences she may yet be subject to.

The Reform and Masorti Movements in Israel are struggling to secure the religious rights of non-haredi Jews to pray at the Kotel according to their custom. They are stepping forward to defend the right of Nofrat, and of all Jewish women, to wear a tallit, openly, while praying at the Kotel, without being physically abused by extremists or arrested by the police.

I ask that the leaders of Open Orthodoxy join in this struggle. Rabbi Shmuel Herzfeld has written a sharp and eloquent piece, a letter to Israel’s ambassador to the US, which was published in the Washington Post, defending the rights of women to don tallitot at the Kotel.

http://newsweek.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/guestvoices/2009/11/rabbis_letter_to_israels_ambassador.html

Let his courageous voice  not be the only one emanating from the Orthodox world.

Mahara”t Sara Hurwitz 

This past week, we commemorated Kristallnacht, Night of Broken Glass.  It is a day that we think about the loss of six million Jews. But this year, at the Hebrew Institute of Riverdale, we commemorated 6 million and one. This past June, at the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum in DC, Officer Stephen Tyrone Johns, gave his life defending shoah memory.  In the presence of his wife, Zakiah Johns, this is the speech that I gave to open up the program:

Kristallnacht. The Night of Broken Glass.  It is a name, I believe, that is meant to force us to hear the traumatic and heartbreaking sounds of that fateful night on November 9 and 10th 1938.  And if I close my eyes, I can almost hear the broken windows of store fronts. The shattering of glass in synagogues and in homes.  I can hear the crackling of paper, the reams of holy words, burning in shuls, of Torah scrolls being consumed, licked up by flames.   I can hear the cries of fathers being separated from children.  The gasps of women who watched their homes being destroyed.  And, if I listen closely, I can hear the moments of heroism yes heroism, by all those who had to sacrifice their lives on that night, and all those who were given the gift of continuing to live that night.

Tonight, we also remember the sounds of June 10^th, 2009.  Sounds of that day ring in my ears as well.  First the swish of the door that is held open by a museum guard, followed by the sounds of gun shots. I hear the frantic screams of people running. The chaos. And if I listen closely, I hear the heroism of one man, of Officer Stephen Tyrone Johns, who gave his life so that others would not perish.  A man that for six years stood outside the US Holocaust Memorial Museum, defending the memory of the sounds of Kristallnacht and the sounds of horror evoked by the shoah. 

 In Judaism, sound is central to some of our foundational rituals.  It is the shofar, the sounding of the rams horn, however, that ushers in for us varying emotions. On one hand, the shofar blasts are meant to sound like a deep and painful cry.  Perhaps it is the cry of death and destruction that we as a community have experienced through out our history.  The sounds of sobbing are a symbol of the hurt and pain that each of us as individuals and as a community have experienced.  But the shofar is also meant to evoke in us a sense of redemption. It is a sound that conveys triumph—and so the shofar used to be sounded at the end of a battle to signify victory.  For in that moment of glory it is a cry of joy and hope for the future.  A sound that will usher in peace and joy for all eternity.
As we listen to the sound of the shofar in just a few moments, let all the sounds of the past—the sounds of brokenness and destruction as well as the sounds of hope for the future wash over us.  And let us recall the sounds of death intertwined with the resounding sound of life. And let’s hear the shofar as a call—a call to each of us to live our lives in harmony attempting to perpetuate the memory of all those who could not stand with us here, tonight.

Mahara”t Sara Hurwitz

Avraham Aveinu, and the Akeida story have much to teach us about the important interplay between sight and self-examination.  In fact, the word “ירא” – to see – is repeated throughout the Akeida story.

In Bereishit chapter 22 verse 4, the Torah says

וַיִּשָּׂא אַבְרָהָם אֶת־עֵינָיו וַיַּרְא אֶת־הַמָּקוֹם מֵֽרָחֹֽק

Avraham raised his eyes and saw the place from afar”.

Avraham is described as a man who is able to see into the distance.  His level of perception was so keen, that Chazal explain that he was able to  “see” God, as it were.  The word Hamakom in the above-cited verse, commonly translated as “the place,” is also one of God’s many names (typically invoked in the house a mourner), and therefore the verse would read that Avraham raised his eyes and saw God from afar.

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Mahara”t Sara Hurwitz

I am the co-mesaderet kiddushin at a wedding next week.  It is not the first wedding I have participated in.  And at each ceremony, I can’t help but feel concerned about how the guests will respond to seeing a woman under the chupah.  Will people question whether the couple is halakhicly married? Will some call into question the couple’s religious level of observance?   How will my presence impact one of the most memorable days of a couple’s life as well as the future they will make together. And then I get a hold of myself, and I realize that there is very little negative impact that a female presence can have on the wedding ceremony.   When one actually analyzes the different components of the wedding ceremony, it is apparent that there is little that a woman cannot do, and much that a woman can contribute. 

The mesder/et kiddsuhin’s obligation to the couple begins way before the wedding day. 

On a halakhic level, the mesader/et kiddushin ensures that the couple is versed in the laws of niddah (family purity).  The mesader/et reviews the components of the wedding ceremony, and must review very carefully the language of the ketubah and the tenaim.

On a pastoral level, the mesader/et meets with the couple to discuss sensitive family dynamics, expectations they each have for their marriage, and to try uncover and acknowledge fears that each may harbor with regards to their relationship. 

It seems obvious that a sensitive knowledgeable woman would be in a position to meet all of the above obligations.  If the couple has a relationship with a female religious leader, there seems to be no barriers, thus far, to a female mesadert kiddushin.

Which brings me to the ceremony itself.   It is true that there are aspects of the ceremony that cannot be performed by woman. Women cannot function as witnesses to the ketubah or to the ring ceremony.  There are those who argue that a woman should not say the brikat erusin.  And there is some halahkic concern with a woman reciting the sheva brachot.  However, the formal definition of the mesdaer kiddsuin is “the one who arranges the betrothal.”  Translation—to coordinate the ceremony.  Practically this means explaining the components of the ceremony (if the wedding is in a place that needs to be explained), offering meaningful words under the chupah, ensuring that each of the components are recited appropriately and correctly.  In most ceremonies the mesader does not read the sheva brachot, and it is common to honor esteemed friends and family with different components of the ceremony.

And so, I ask again: is there really any reason for a woman who has a meaningful relationship with the couple not to officiate at the wedding?  I think not.

Mahara”t Sara Hurwitz

I am sitting on a panel tomorrow night with some of my esteemed female colleagues for a discussion about female spiritual leaders in the Orthodox community. (Beyond the Glass Ceiling: New Orthodox Leadership Roles for Women.)  I know that the question of title will come up. While I believe that the job – functioning as a spiritual leader, connecting with people, having the opportunity to teach Torah to others—is of primary importance, title is relevant.  It has been almost 7 months since the initiation of the title Mahara”t, and I am curious to hear people’s reactions now to the title.  I am still not sure if Mahara”t is simply a place holder for another more rabbi sounding title, like “rabah” or even “rabbi,” or if it has come to mean Rabbi, and thus will stick.  I know that for at least the people in my community, the title seems to carry with it some significance. It has been easier for me to appropriately respond and act in a rabbinic role, as people have associated the title with a certain level of scholarship and authority.  We have even called the new school that will ordain Orthodox women as rabbis “Yeshivat Mahara”t.”  At first, the criticism from the left was that we were capitulating to political pressure and selling ourselves short. Anything less than Rabbi would not do.  And yet, on the other hand, the title Mahara”t has allowed women from both ends of the Orthodox spectrum to dream, even realistically consider pursuing a path of religious spiritual leadership.  What do you think the future holds? Is the Orthodox community more likely to hire and accept Mahara”ts as their spiritual leaders? Or is the only legitimate path to advocate for women to be called rabbis?

Mahara”t Sara Hurwitz

I learned an important lesson from a member of our community this past Sukkot.   Dr. Levy (pseudonym) who is blind, came to the lobby of our shul to buy a lulav and etrog.  There he was picking out his set, with a bunch of frightened Bnei Akiva teens trying to figure out how to help a blind man choose an etrog. He ran his hands over all the etrogim for a few minutes and then picked one up. Someone walked over to him and told him that it was the most beautiful etrog and asked him how he chose it. He said something I will never forget.  “People spend hours with a magnifying glass searching for the perfect etrog – looking for spots and specks. But they are missing the entire point. The goal is to be turning that magnifying glass into yourself. We spend so much time looking at a fruit, when we should really be looking into ourselves.”

People do spend a lot of time and money on their lulavim and etrog.  The gemara says that one should spend one-third more of their earnings on an etrog, and after that, God will reimburse you!  However, perhaps the lulav and etrog should be seen as an extension of ourselves.  There’s an often quoted midrash that says that each of the four species correlate to parts of our bodies—the lulav is likened to our spine, the hadass—the eyes, the aravah to the mouth, and the etrog is likened to our heart.   Rather than spend so much time finding the perfect species, we should figure out how to be better people.  We should stand up for others who cannot stand up for themselves. We should use our mouths to praise God and others, we should use our eyes to see the good in this world, and open hearts one third more than we usually do.

The ritual object—the lulav and etrog—is meant to help enhance our performance of the act.  We strive to pick beautiful lulavim and etrogim not for the sake of retaining bragging rites for having the best etrog around town. But as a means to help each of us serve God and others in a more complete way.

On a separate note, there have been some questions with respect to Yeshivat Mahara”t. To read a little more about the Yeshiva, check out http://www.thejewishweek.com/viewArticle/c36_a16923/News/New_York.html

Mahara”t Sara Hurwitz

There are few named women in the Talmud. One of the few is Yalta, the wife of Rav Nachman, a third generation Babylonian Amora, and the daughter of the Reish Galuta, a wealthy and well-respected figure. When I first learned about Yalta, it was like discovering a timeless friend — a soul mate.  Learning the stories in the gemaras that she appeared in was like laughing knowingly, with someone who was trying to break through a cement ceiling in a patriarchal world.

A few stories about Yalta:

The Talmud Bavli Beizah 25b brings an anecdote about Yalta being carried on a “sedan chair” on Shabbat.  As surprising as this may be, the Gemara lists other limited circumstances when it would be permissible to be carried.  An older person can be carried on a “sedan chair.”  And if a number of people need the person for religious guidance, they can be carried.  Also, a well-respected member of the community can be carried.  Therefore, it logically follows that the reason why Yalta was being carried on Shabbat must be because people needed her.  And indeed, Tosefot suggest: “people required her guidance,” and therefore, she could be carried on Shabbat.

The Talmud in Bavli Brachot 51b describes how Ulla refuses to send the “cos shel bracha” the cup of wine over which birkat hamazon (grace after meals) is made.  Yalta gets up “in a passion” and breaks four hundred jars of wine.  What audacity. What waste.  And yet, the Mahrasha says that she was not angry because of the wine per se. She broke the wine to show that drinking the wine was not important to her.    אלא על כוס הברכה שלא שלח לה כעסה

“rather, she was angry because the cup of benediction was not sent to her.”  Yalta wanted to participate in the ritual of blessing the wine. She wanted desperately to be involved—not for the sake of drinking wine—but to bless and honor God in the same way that her male companions were doing.  Yalta refused to accept status quo.  Her reaction, while extreme, is a tribute to the passion she felt towards religious ritual.

Finally, the Talmud Bavli, Nidah 20b, describes how Yalta influenced the psak– Rabbinic dispensation– with regards to a question related to the laws of niddah (family purity). Yalta knew that her bedikah (checking) cloth was clean and rendered her able to be intimate with her husband.  Yet, despite the fact that she had the knowledge to determine her own status, she still went to the Rabbi’s (as one was supposed to do at that time) to get an authoritative decision.  Yalta could have circumvented the Rabbinic system altogether, and made her own decision. However, she took her predicament to the Rabbi, dialogued about it, and in the end, successfully influenced the rabbinic decision. Yalta saw a problem with the rabbinic system, and rather than reject it, she worked within the system towards changing it.

Read together, all three stories weave together a picture of a woman who was well respected for her scholarship, passionate about religious ritual, with the fortitude to encounter and influence rabbinic authority for the better.

How could any women —or any person for that matter– trying to participate in Jewish religious leadership not look to Yalta for strength?

Mahara”t Sara Hurwitz

The Jewish holidays evoke in many a fear of sitting in shul. Again and again. Hours on end.  I have been trying to craft a spiritually uplifting and meaningful prayer experience at my shul,. As I do so, I have been acutely sensitive to the fact that people want that spiritually uplifting and meaningful experience in less than 2 hours.  Balancing the beauty of the High Holiday liturgy, with a need to get through them quickly is a humbling experience.

And yet, perhaps, the driving foundational issue, that keeps people from being glued to their seats is a sense of boredom with Judaism and religious ideals in general.  A few weeks ago, Erica Brown, the scholar-in-residence at the Jewish Federation of Greater Washington wrote an article in the Jewish Week, “Boredom Is So Interesting.” http://www.thejewishweek.com/viewArticle/c55_a16513/Editorial__Opinion/Opinion.html

In it, she proposes that the problem with Judaism is not the rituals, the culture, or history. Judaism remains a rich tradition.  Rather, it is us, the individual who is to blame. She quotes the poet Dylan Thomas, “Something is boring me. I think it’s me.”  When boredom strikes, she says, “it’s time to look in the mirror.”

On Yom Kippur, we will read the story of Jonah and how God called out to him.  But Jonah ran away, trying desperately to escape God’s call by hiding in the deepest recesses of a ship, and then falling into a deep slumber.  Jonah attempted to escape God’s presence. Shun God’s calling. 

Many of us, if we would just open ourselves to the possibility, have a keen spiritual sense; we can sense the presence of God.  The question is, what do we do with that calling. Do we try to run away, unshackle ourselves from the weight and responsibility of a religious call?  Or, do we move towards the calling—like Moses, who beseeched God,  “Show me your glory” (Shemot 33:18), right before God’s presence passed before his face.  

Perhaps we should each challenge ourselves, this Yom Kippur, to think about the reasons that we are drawn to Jewish community, and then think of the reasons that we want to stay away. Is it because we are spiritually numb? Alienated? Feel out of place? Or experience a disconnect with synagogue ritual and liturgy? 

Then consider figuring out how to re-engage.  How each of us can re-invigorate our Judaism to make it both more intellectually and spiritually stimulating.

Mahara”t Sara Hurwitz

Rosh Hashana is a Listening Holiday.

In contrast to the other Holidays, which I would classify more as seeing holidays. Let me explain.  In the Biblical times, for the festivals of Sukkot, Shavuot, and Pesach, the Jewish people are commanded to go on a pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem.  It is the pilgrimage to the Temple which forms the central act of observance.  And on their journey, the Jewish people are commanded on these three occasions to see the divine, — “reiyat panim.” To see God’s face.

And, if you think about the holidays, the rituals associated with Pescah, Shavout and Sukkot all involve seeing—the lulav and etrog on Sukkot are supposed to look a certain way.  The seder plate must appear at the center of the seder table on Pesach, and seeing the inside of the Torah is central to Shavuot.

In contrast, the fundamental principle of Rosh Hashanah is listening as manifested through the requirement to hear the shofar. The shofar– the central ritual of Rosh Hahsana. 

The truth is, it wasn’t always so clear that the primary obligation of the day is to hear the shofar. 

There’s an interesting disagreement about whether the blessing we say before blowing the shofar should be a blessing on blowing the shofar or a blessing on hearing the shofar.  Is the primary obligation to blow the shofar or to hear the shofar.  The blessing of course is :

“Blessed are You, Hashem,Our God, King of the world, who sanctified us through His commandments and commanded us to hear the sound of the Shofar”

ברוך אתה ה’אלהינו מלך העולם אשר קדשנו במצותיו וצונו לשמוע קול שופר

It is a blessing over the sound—the cries of tekiya, shevarim and truah.

The essence of the mitzvah of shofar is not the blowing in of itself, but it is about hearing the sound emanating from the shofar. 

And yet, the first day of Rosh Hashana coincides with Shabbat, and there is no shofar. On Shabbat, we don’t blow shofar lest we come to carry the shofar and desecrate Shabbat observance.  The holiness of Shabbat overrides the shofar blast.

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Mahara”t Sara Hurwitz

Today is the opening day of Yeshivat Mahara”t, a day I believe, that will go down in history.  It is the first program open to Orthodox women that is willing not only to train, but to ordain women as spiritual leaders— as rabbinic leaders— in the Orthodox community.  This is the message that I hope to impart to the inaugural class: 

At the conferral ceremony just a few months ago, where I became a Mahara”t, almost everyone who rose to speak declared with joy, “zeh hayom asah Hashem, nagila v’nismacha vo.”  This is the day God has made, let us rejoice and be glad on it.  And it truly was an inspiring moment, a day to rejoice and be glad. But for me, this day, today, September 10, 2009, 21^st day of Elul, 5769, carries far more import. This is the dream that I have been waiting to see come to fruition. It is the dream, to quote this week’s parsha, of “kulchem:” “Atem nizavim hayom kulchem lifnei Hashem.” You are standing today, ALL of you, before God.”  Kulchem includes all people, elders, officers, men, women, and children all standing together to accept and be included in God’s covenant.

The Alshich, a Biblical commentator living in the 16^th century in Safed, notes that everyone—kulchem, were standing “equally in the presence of the Lord, simultaneously.”  What an idyllic image, where one’s gender or status was irrelevant; for men, women and children, old and young, rich and poor, alike were standing together, in partnership before God. 

Women’s learning and leadership has made tremendous strides over the past century.  This space, this place that we are sitting in now, Drisha Institute for women, has been on the forefront of fortifying and nourishing women with knowledge, courage and confidence to become Jewish scholars.  But, we cannot stop there.  The time has come, the day has come, for women to transform their knowledge into service, to be able to stand together, with our male counterparts, as spiritual leaders of our community.  And not because women should have the same opportunities as men – although they should – and not because women can learn and achieve on par with men – although they can.  But because women, as Jewish leaders, have so many singular and unique gifts to offer, so much to contribute to the larger Jewish community.

So let us not let this day pass by without taking a moment to acknowledge and celebrate how much we have actually achieved, and to look forward to the achievements and milestones to come.