Four weeks ago Chava (a friend from the BGU ulpan) and I
decided that we wanted to spend my last Shabbat at BGU in Jerusalem so that
we could go to Shira Chadasha, a synagogue in Jerusalem that identifies as a
feminist Modern Orthodox congregation. So last Friday, Haley,
Chava and I took a bus to Jerusalem and spent the early afternoon weaving our
way through the city, making stops at Machaneh Yehuda for some barekas and the
best chocolate rugalah I have ever had and at the old city shuk.
At a little after three we arrived at our hostel: the
Heritage House, a hostel for Jewish women located in the Jewish quarter in the
Old City. The Heritage House is a hostel with a mission. Even though they do
not force anyone to participate in any particular event, it’s hard to escape
its mission to connect you closer to ‘Hashem’: hand-drawn posters and laminated
signs hang on the walls and outside the bathroom to remind you that God loves
and watches over you, and, on Saturday mornings, the Madrechot (volunteer
hostel staff) wake you up at 9:30 to tell you that you have to be out by 10:30
and that we’re all going to the Kotel in an hour. (The Heritage House also
works to set people up with Shabbat meals. Those who were going to Shabbat
lunch with friends of the Heritage House were expected to meet their hosts at
11AM. So, to recap: we arrived at the Kotel at 10:45 and had 15 minutes to
pray. Although, I guess you can’t expect much more than that given the fact
that women can’t hold services at the Western Wall.)
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| Dormitory at the Heritage House. |
After settling in, we got dressed for Shabbat in
appropriately sneas-ed fasion: skirts below the knees and sleeves below the
elbows. I was dressed in a floor length skirt, a long-sleeve t-shirt and a
scarf: no elbows, no knees, no wrists, no ankles, no clavicle, no nothing.
Except for my choice of bright colors, I could pass for a seminary girl.
Services at Shira Chadasha were as wonderful as expected:
what better way to welcome Shabbat than by sitting and singing in a room with
hundreds of other people? Shira Chadaha’s M.O. is “to increase the
congregation’s participation in services, and particularly maximize the
involvement of women…all within the rules and rituals of Orthodox Judaism”[1]:
the machitza is mostly symbolic and is made out of the sheerest fabric I have
seen and, more importantly, women are allowed not only to sing loudly, but are
allowed to lead ‘optional’ parts of the service (for example, Kabbalat Shabbat)
have a Bat Mitzvah and read from the Torah.
We then made our way to our host’s house and, after several
rounds of show tunes and asking many people for directions (thank goodness so
many people in Jerusalem speak English!), we arrived at 7:15. A black hat,
black robe wearing man let us in. We apologized for being late, but he told us
it was not a problem because our hosts hadn’t yet arrived. We spent the next 45
minutes chatting with the guests who were already there and the guests that
kept arriving. They were all either seminary girls, black hatters, or the wives
of black hatters; all of them were Chabad. Needless to say, we three felt a
little out of place.
At 8:00, our hosts finally arrived and we started dinner.
First we sang a 5-minute version of Shalom Alechem (I should clarify: by ‘we’ I
mean the host and the other men. I took my cue from the other women: either
don’t sing or mumble inaudibly), followed by a rousing and upbeat version of
Eishes Chayil, a song that outlines the virtues of the perfect wife (for a
translation of the song: http://www.aish.com/sh/ht/fn/48966686.html). Then Kiddush
was recited three times (once by our host, once by his father, and once by
another husband). Then hand washing, the motzi, and finally the biggest meal I
have ever seen, all of it made from scratch by the hostess. The next three
hours were spent chatting with our host and the other guests and in learning
about each other and about Chabad philosophy. (A summary of the explanation
given to me: Chabad’s goal is to prepare the world for the coming of the Messiah
by practicing mitzvot and by encouraging others to practice mitzvot (the more
mitzvot, the closer the world will be to being prepared for the arrival of the
Messiah). But they don’t believe in practicing mitzvot without understanding
the reasons behind them, so they study Torah and Talmud to try to understand
God’s will and the commandments, realizing that even thought they won’t
understand everything, they should at least try.)
After what was quite possibly the largest 3-hour,
home-cooked meal I have ever seen, the three of us walked back to our hostel in
the old city debating the role of feminism in Judaism. After we returned to the
hostel, we talked (and debated) Jewish halacha with seminary girls into the wee
hours of the morning.
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* * *
* * *
* *
Saturday morning we ventured to the Kotel in lieu of walking
an hour to a synagogue (after all, when in Jerusalem…). I was interested in the
differences between the men’s and women’s sides, and I don’t just mean the fact
that the women’s side is smaller than the men’s and (still) has a giant ramp
that takes up half the space (I say “still” because that ‘temporary’ ramp,
which leads to the Dome of the Rock, was there when I came to Israel the summer
of 2005). On Saturday morning clusters of men are gathered in front of the
Wall. They are a monochromatic group, wearing only black pants and white
tallitot over their heads. Nobody sits, nobody idles near the Plaza; all are
standing and praying (and rocking back and forth) next to the Wall. The women
represent a more diverse group: some in long skirts and head coverings, others
in pants and some sit, while others stand.
On the men’s side there is seemingly no diversity in prayer:
every one has his tallit, every one has his siddur, every one sways, every one
recites prayers. The women are different. Some are davening from siddurim,
while others sit – some with siddurim on their laps – in admiration. A few are
in private meditation, their foreheads and palms pressed against the Wall,
their eyes shut, their lips whispering inaudible prayers. Even though the women
can’t sing, can’t pray together, can’t read Torah, there is still a spirit of devotion
and connection to Judaism.
Next we headed to our second hosts, an orthodox family with
five young children, where we were again treated to an impressively large,
home-cooked meal. (I must comment on the kitchen, because I have never seen
something like it. The kitchen not only had separate sinks for meat and dairy,
no, the kitchen, which is certainly larger than the living room in my house,
had two sides, each with its own counter space, island, cupboards, cookware and
refrigerator.) The rest of the afternoon was spent in a nearby park, part of
which gave us a clear view of the wall that divides Israel from the West Bank.
The evening (what Chava calls “motsesh” [motse-Shabbat]) was
spent on Ben Yahuda street where Hayley and I had the first shawarma I’ve had
since arriving in Israel and where I later bumped into the one unmarried black
hatter whom I had met at dinner the night before…and he asked me for my number
so he could call me later that night. And thus ensues one of my most interesting
Israeli experiences.
At 11PM he calls. After a quick exchange of greetings, he
launches into a 30 second spiel about this friend of his, which concludes with
him asking: “are you at the point in your life where you’re ready to be set up
on a shidduch?” Silence.
“Um…No. I don’t
‘shidduch.”
“Oh. Well, do you date?” Date? Of course I date.
“…Yes.”
“Oh…well, I’m confused. Where are you with your
Judaism?” (I should note that it was
only after this phone conversation that I learned the meaning of his definition
of date. Dating, to him, basically means having my resume prepared, and meeting
religious men…who I would potentially marry shortly thereafter.)
“Well, I’m a Conservative Jew…………………and I’m very comfortable
with my Conservative Judaism.”
“Oh. Well, you were dressed like a religious woman……”
“Well, we went to Modern Orthodox services for Kabbalat
Shabbat and then we didn’t know where we were going for dinner, so we wanted to
be dressed appropriately…”
Long pause.
Him: “Oh. Well…ok………………………… I hope this wasn’t awkward for
you.”
Another long pause.
Him: “Ok. Well. Bye.”
I proceeded to spend the next hour calling everyone to tell
them this story.
* *
* * *
* * *
* *
Sunday was uneventful – I wandered around Jerusalem and
spent a while listening to music from street performers whose pe'ot rivaled my hair in length:
and then had a lovely dinner with my aunt and uncle, who
were in Jerusalem for a few days for a conference. Later that night I also
learned that the next day (Monday) was Rosh Hodesh, and that the Women of the
Wall would be praying at the Kotel in the morning. This was something I
couldn’t miss.
The Women of the Wall is a feminist group whose goal is “to
achieve the right, as women, to wear prayer shawls, pray and read from the
Torah collectively and out loud at the Western Wall (Kotel) in Jerusalem, Israel.”[2] Every
Rosh Hodesh they come in tallitot to pray at the Kotel to make a religious and
political statement, and the service often ends in someone getting arrested
(since it’s illegal for women to wear tallitot at the Kotel, or to pray
collectively and out loud).
On Monday morning I went to the Kotel and joined a group of
about 50 women (about 15 of whom were wearing a tallit; two of whom were also
in jester hats – I can only assume because it was the beginning of the Jewish
month Adar [the month in which Purim takes place] and apparently it’s Israeli
custom to get dressed up pre-Purim on Rosh Hodesh in Adar) who were singing out
loud at the back of the women’s section. Police were stationed around with
video recorders. After about five minutes, a women from the organization
announced that we were going to change locations for Torah services because we
weren’t allowed to read Torah at the Wall (even though this seemed a little
counterintuitive to the organization’s mission). As we were walking through the
security gates the two women who were leading our march were taken aside by the
police and arrested. Rather than continue to our intended Torah service
destination, we headed to the police station near Jaffa Gate in the Old City
(the location where the two arrested women were being detained) to hold the
Torah service. Torah services were accompanied by a camera crew paparazzi and
at one point by a black hat man who tried to take the Torah away from us women.
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| Torah Services outside the police station near Jaffa Gate. |
Overall, it was one of the most culturally enriching (and
one of the best) weekends I have ever had.
It's great to see that you're sharing your experiences through a blog. I happen to be a fan of that. Living in India, I often find myself taking a condescending attitude to the way women are treated here, but it's not so different from religious, socially conservative communities anywhere else in the world. The pressure for women to cover up, the lack of involvement in certain traditions, and the constrained nature of male-female interactions can be found in many places. Of course, that doesn't make them acceptable. Thanks for helping me remember that sexism isn't limited to a single culture.
ReplyDeleteGripping account! I'm so happy that you are sharing these stories on a blog. (This really could have been three separate posts!) I do hope you will give us more.
ReplyDeleteI once stayed at Heritage House in 1999 - my wallet was stolen on the beach near Ashdod, and I needed to be in Jerusalem, and since it was free it was the best option. I got up and left really early so that they could not rope me into staying the whole day for the whole range of Chabad-approved activities.
And kol hakavod for being proud of your Conservative (capital C - the Conservative / Masorti movement) tradition! Remember that what we do is genuine and legitimate, regardless of what those to the right of us might say/think. I wish that all of those that come through the ranks of Temple Israel of Great Neck would be as forthright as you in standing up for the way that we approach Judaism and Jewish life.
Keep up the good work.