Thursday, June 24, 2010

What about Devorah?!

On the comments for Frum Satire's post that I discussed in my previous post, on the issue of female leadership being against Halacha more generally, one person asks, "What about Devorah?"

So what about Devorah?

How does her presence in Tanach not present a huge problem for poskim who say women can't be in leadership positions, women can't be rabbis, women can't be witnesses (and certainly not judges!)?

Devorah's position as a shofet (i.e., a judge) made her responsible for applying (and thus interpreting, because the former really necessitates the latter) the laws of the Torah to specific cases in Israel. This is certainly a position of leadership.

With this as a precedent, how can anyone said its halachically forbidden?

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Female Presidents at MO Shuls?

This post on Frum Satire's blog really intrigued me. He says:


Dov Bear has a post about a shul in Syracuse (I know the rabbis kids from yeshiva, and have davened there many times) that is being kicked out of the NCYI National Council of Young Israel, because it has a woman president. I always thought that Young Israel was supposed to be “modern” orthodox, yet they have such a rule on the books. Can anyone really say it’s wrong to have a woman as shul president? It just sounds like another rule to prevent women from being leaders in orthodoxy. Although I doubt having the ability to get up at shul and announce the times for mincha that week would be justified as being a leader.
Anyone know if this is true? And why on earth it would be inappropriate to have a woman as a president of an MO (or even an O) shul?

I never even really thought about this as an issue. I just never even considered it. But while I would expect the hoopla over a female rabbi (I didn't even think I'd see such a daring move in my lifetime), this type of reaction over a female president doesn't make sense to me at all.

The "President" position of a shul is certainly a secular invention.... so what's the big deal? And then, when I think about the larger Orthodox organizations, it seems that none of them have women in leadership positions unless its a woman's organization (Am I right about this? I might not be).

Sexism within religion is more justifiable, I guess (I don't really think so, but all I'm saying is that people can claim that this is how "God" or "the rabbis" wanted it...and it's hard to disagree with a God who doesn't [seem to?] communicate back or with people who are long dead), but I don't see how sexism within the secular aspect of the culture can be justified. Especially when there are so many highly educated, highly accomplished women.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Follow-Up Question: Is Saying Tehillim for the Sick a Gender-Specific Activity?

I ask this only because it seems like it's always women organizing to say Tehillim, saying Tehillim, etc.

But maybe that's just the people I know?

Does anyone else know if this is the case? And if so, why? It seems like this would be equally within the male & female domain..

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Things that Amaze Me: The Belief in the Power of Tehillim

Recently, a girl with whom I went to seminary (10+ years ago) was diagnosed with a bad illness. This made me feel really bad (for her, her kids, her husband, her family) and sad because she is truly a great person.

But what amazed me (and what amazes me in other situations) is the barrage of Facebook messages that I got (and status updates that I saw) asking people to commit to saying a number of Tehillim on her behalf.

I guess I shouldn't be so amazed. Once, a long time ago, when I was 13, and I found out that my grandfather had had a stroke, I sat on the couch in our living room reading perek after perek of Tehillim, trying really hard to focus, to concentrate so that maybe God would do something to reverse this.

But it's been a really long time since I was 13. And I can't imagine that even if I was religious now, I would believe that reading prakim of Tehillim had some sort of power to heal the sick.

Because that's what it is, right? There's this pervasive belief that these words have some deep seated power (over God?) to heal... Thus the rush to get enough people to say them so that maybe it'll do something.

And I understand the impulse or the desire to believe this completely. There's nothing worse than feeling like someone you care about is sick or dying and there's nothing you can do. This gives people a feeling of power over the situation, like they're doing something to help. That doesn't minimize my amazement, still, at how deeply people believe.

Anyway, related to this, here's my quandary. I've been asked to commit to say p'rakim of Tehillim on this girl's behalf. I obviously care very much about her, want her to know that I'm thinking of her, etc. But it feels hypocritical and rather silly to say Tehillim for her, because I don't believe it has any effect at all...

That said, it clearly means something to this girl... and it's not like it would hurt me to say it...

Not really sure how to respond.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Thing That Makes Me Nauseous #1: Jewish Femininity Books

Especially: Gila Manolson

...but I've read lots of them, mostly for theoretical papers in graduate school.

It's cool if you want to feel that way about being a woman in Judaism. If you want to feel empowered by a "return to femininity" and being modest, etc.. But really?! Why do we need to tell other women that this is how they ARE instrinsically because they are women and to deny it is to deny some essential piece of themselves.

I remember being in seminary and listening to teachers tell the class the exact sentiment I expressed above. And all I remember thinking is: okay, but what if I don't feel that way? Does that mean there's something wrong with me? Maybe there's something wrong with me...

Society does it enough anyway implicitly. We're made to feel somewhat lacking or weird if we don't want to have a pretty white wedding/go shopping a lot/get manicures and pedicures/have babies. OJ society also does it implicitly in its own special way. So why the need for these overt statements in books?

Just tells us why we should be shomer negiah, religious, etc. (not that I will, but for those who are interested in being convinced), without reverting to gender stereotypes, please!!

And you can say, well OnHerOwn, then don't go reading those books... (Well, I'm a compulsive researcher/reader, I'll read anything that comes into my reach, but that aside) But people that I know will read them regardless and then come spewing that same stuff out at me in arguments. And it really makes me sick. I do want to not believe that OJ is dependant upon gender stereotypes to survive and/or thrive.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

A Non-Traditional Pesach: The Report, A Wee Bit Late

I ended up at two seders this year, instead of the one as I had originally thought.

Neither seder was Orthodox and one was a lot less traditional than what I'm used to. The former was Conservative/Traditional; the latter involved a hike out into a huge, open field (in imitation of the Exodus) and lots of talk about EcoJudaism (which I appreciate, in theory, though I don't really always see as clear a corrolation to traditional Judaism as proponents of the movement seem to espouse).

After that, I didn't keep kosher for Passover. Sure, I ate some matzah, even a macaroon or two. But I also ate bread and bread-related products.

For me, this was almost a test: what does it feel like if I completely my own ties with Orthodoxy?

It was a pretty extreme move for me, because no matter how un-Orthodox I've been in the past, I've always cleaned my house for Passover, almost always at least made the effort to keep kosher for Passover (I think I'd cheated on that front once or twice), and always gone to Orthodox seders.

And that first bite of bread, to be honest, made me feel a little bit weird. As did the fact that when I got to my kitchen initially, there was chametz all over the place. But the weirdness quickly subsided and, after the first day, it didn't even phase me.

Which isn't to say that I forgot it was Passover. On the contrary, I remembered pretty clearly. And the non-Traditional seders were much more memorable and interesting than any Orthodox seder I've ever been to (though I will not presume that there aren't many Orthodox seders that far surpass those I've been to, in terms of being interesting).

The "Eco-Seder," in particular, was truly fascinating for me. I liked the way that it gave new meaning to the same paragraphs I've read over and over again, year after year. The seder felt fresh and new, which was really cool. And there was something particularly awesome about starting the seder out in the outdoors (we moved inside after "Avadim Hayinu").

Plus, the questions, connections, and insights people came up with were really thought-provoking. It felt alive.

This stands in stark contrast to the seders I've had with my family in the past, where my dad/siblings will read the same D'var Torahs written on the bottom of their hagaddot at every seder for years. It never really felt dynamic to me. (Again, this is in no way meant to suggest that all Orthodox seders are similarly boring.)

Pesach has long been one of my least favorite of the Jewish holidays (second only to fast days) - the seders dragging on for hours when it seems even those "expounding upon" the text aren't even interested in what they're saying, the unpleasantness of eating a matzah & potato starch diet for eight days...

This year, non-traditional though it may have been, I actually enjoyed it.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Two Things (Pesach & Marriage)

THING 1. I'm not doing Pesach this year.

I thought I wanted to do it. I had the whole idea planned out. And then one morning, I realized that I didn't want to do it. I'm not sure why.

Or, scratch that.

It's not entirely true that I'm not doing Passover. I'm just not doing Passover in the traditional sense, for really the first time in my life.

I am going to a seder. A non-traditional seder. And only one seder.

I can't really explain why this happened and I don't know what more to say about it.

THING 2. For now, I've decided not to do the Jewish wedding.

I can't figure out a way to make it fit with my belief system. And, quite frankly, I don't feel like I should have to compromise my belief system so much for something that directly affects me.

A wedding/marriage is all about me and my spouse. Nobody else. True, other people will get satisfaction from seeing it. But should they really be getting satisfaction from something if it makes me so unhappy? I'm going to say no. I love my parents, I love my family, but on this particular issue, they're going to have to learn to see things from my perspective.