Changes Comes Slowly to Orthodox Synagogue Life

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By Lila Kagedan

I have learned that change comes ever so slowly to Orthodox synagogue life, but it does happen. When I was 12 years old, my shul launched a search for a new rabbi. My father, who was on the search committee, gave me an important job. He had me prepare questions to quiz the job candidates based on the weekly Torah portion. I diligently chose the toughest questions. I felt like my voice mattered as part of the committee in an Orthodox synagogue that seldom saw, much less heard, the voices of women in the community.

Ultimately, this rabbi became my teacher in several different educational settings and we butted heads to the say least. We argued over my ability to do rituals and celebrate my bat mitzvah in the manner in which I wanted. We argued about learning Talmud in high school. We argued about the role of women in the synagogue, politics, and we continued to argue about parsha questions. We pretty much argued for more than a decade. Then, I readied myself for what I thought would be the biggest argument of all: when I revealed to him that I had been accepted to get smicha /ordination as a student at Yeshivat Maharat.

While I saw this as the ultimate compliment to his years of teaching me as I was truly committing myself to a life of service and learning, I knew that there were limits and this would be the “last straw.” I decided that year on Rosh Hashana to casually mention my course of study after shul one evening. When I did, he didn’t really react. It was clear to me that I had crossed a line and that was that. It saddened me that he could not see my commitment to study as a positive, but I had long lived in a world where women’s learning was of little interest so I certainly was not shocked.

A few weeks later he said to my youngest brother, possibly jokingly or maybe he was testing the waters, “So your sister is going to be a rabbi?” It was clear to me that this was a positive step and I decided to pursue as many halachic conversations with him in casual short ways after services as possible when I visited home. I was never certain where he stood on the matter of ordination and we never discussed it.

This past Thanksgiving/Chanukah, this very same rabbi invited me give a talk at the shul on halacha and ethics relating to inclusion for differently abled persons. I was shocked. No woman had ever spoke about halacha in the shul setting before. I thought he disapproved of my studies and me. The invitation had been a simple email, no drama, no pomp just a simple and direct email invite.

When he introduced me at the lunch prior to my talk with over 100 people in attendance, he used the most complimentary of terms to describe my studies and I returned the compliment by introducing myself as his long-time student. It was an amazing, groundbreaking moment for the shul, but most all, it just felt normal. As the audience filed out of the room after the talk, the rabbi came up to me and challenged a few of my points and we talked some of them through. I thanked him for the invitation and told him that I would be sending him an invitation to my ordination ceremony when the time came. We both wished one another a Shabbat Shalom and I thanked him for being my teacher for several years.

Change can happen when you least expect it and in the most surprising ways. Patience would not have achieved this goal. The passage of time would not have brought me to this place. What brought me here was more than a decade of facing the issues and pursuing these goals. That’s what yielded these results. It would turn out to be a season of milestones for women in the shul of my childhood. After years of advocacy, women danced with a Torah for the first time on Simchat Torah and will read from the Megillat Esther on Purim. Now it is time to focus on what we want to do next.

lilakadeganLila Kagedan in a student at Yeshivat Maharat and a research associate at the Hadassah-Brandeis Institute. Her beloved father, Ian Kagedan referenced in this article, passed away on Feb. 17. May his memory be a blessing.

As part of a collaboration between the HBI’s Project on Gender, Culture, Religion and the Law and the School of Law at the School of Oriental and African Studies, supported by the Bridging Voices Program of the British Council, we present a series of invited reflections on the intersection of Gender, Religion and Equality in Public Life from activists and scholars around the world. Contributors have been asked to reflect upon the ways in which conflicts over gender, religion and participation impact their work and inform their understanding of events in the news. They are particularly asked to consider how religious norms around gender shape civil policy making, adjudication and women’s capacity to fully participate in public political and ritual life.

Blood Memory

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By Amy Powell

lisa_rosowsky_headshot_sm“Blood memory is a term I use to describe my experience as a member of the ‘second generation.’ I did not directly suffer or even witness the horrors of the Holocaust, but they live on in me nonetheless,” says artist Lisa Rosowsky, whose selected work is on display in an exhibit titled, “Blood Memory: A View from the Second Generation,” now in the Kniznick Gallery of the Women’s Studies Research Center at Brandeis University.

Rosowsky described childhood with her father, a French Jew, who was hidden by a gentile family during the Holocaust. Her father, Andre, had little notice before he was placed with his father’s boss and never saw his parents again. “Just before the invasion of France, they had a warning and they were able to put him into hiding,” Rosowsky said.

Ultimately, Andre was raised in the U.S. by his Aunt Raya, his mother’s sister. He did not share his memories with his own children. As Rosowsky grew up with only the barest outline of what happened to her father, she filled in the blanks with her own imagination. But, when she was in graduate school at Yale and visited her aunt, she received a precious gift.

“I was almost out the door and she handed me a 40-page typed manuscript with all the memories,” Rosowsky said. Her father wrote it when he was in the sixth grade. “It was the most incredible gift for me, filling that hole I had all my life,” she said.

Rosowsky published the manuscript in hand-bound books for the family, but she was not finished. Later, she rented studio space and “thought I might have something to say.”

With little experience in fine art, she started to create. Her work felt “divinely inspired,” and every time she thought she had bottomed out, another piece of art formed in her head.

Creating art has had a healing and calming effect. “It has made me happier and more confident,” she said. The use of black, white and gray is “powerful for me and the soft tones allow the meaning to come out.”

lisa_angel_smThe Angel of Auschwitz looms over the gallery from the ceiling. With a wingspan of 12 feet, the Angel bears witness. The wings, made of barbed wire, bear the inscription, “Tod Macht Frie,” meaning “Death Will Set You Free.” It references the inscription above the entrance to Auschwitz, “Arbeit Macht Frei,” meaning “Work Will Set You Free.”

lisa_quilt_smThe Raitzyns, a quilt made of cotton voile, rayon, leather and suede, uses the family photos and incorporates the collection of gloves left to Rosowsky by her Aunt Raya, who raised her father. On the quilt are pictures of the 11 Raitzyn sibings along with assorted spouses and children. The white gloves indicate survivors and the black gloves are for those who perished. The lower right quilt block contains a listing of those in the family who were deported, their ages, convoy numbers and the dates they arrived in Auschwitz.

chair3_smToile de Camps is wooden chair with a fine cotton-linen upholstery containing sketches of different concentrations camps. The piece was inspired by Rosowsky’s trip to Auschwitz and Poland where she witnessed instances of Holocaust tourism, including “Hebrew signs and Jew dolls dressed like Chasids that were definitely not cool.” At the same time, this Holocaust commodification made her wonder if her own work differed.

“I made a piece that dealt with my emotions,” she said. “I made a toile with some black humor to it.”

Traditional toiles were fabrics, which celebrated and idealized scenes of everyday life, recognizable places or famous historical events and people. At first, this chair is another charming toile, but closer inspection reveals it’s dark side.

Blood Memories is on display until March 7. The exhibit is free and open to the public. For hours, appointments and more information, go to www.brandeis.edu/wsrc.

Amy Powell is the HBI communications director.

An Orthodox Woman and an Amish Woman Walk Into a Casino…

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By Rivka Neriya ben Shahar

Rivka Neriya ben Shahar

Rivka Neriya ben Shahar

I had spent a period of time living with an Amish family to conduct research that compared consumption of mass media by Old Order Amish Women to that of the Ultra-Orthodox women. I grew close to this family and learned a lot about their culture and ways of doing things.  Once I was back in Israel, I made plans to visit the U.S. again and wrote to “Anna,” not her real name.

I asked her, “What I can bring from the Holy Land?”

At first she told me she didn’t want anything, just to see me with my “hands empty and my heart full.” But, finally, she agreed to let me to bring her some water from the Jordan River. This is about two hours drive for me from Jerusalem and I asked some friends who were going there to bring back the water. Some suggested I just bring any water, that no one will know the difference. But I knew the difference and wanted to do it properly. I got water from the Sea of Galilee and the Jordan River and made a nice package for her, hoping these bottles would not break when I traveled.

When I presented the water, I was glad I had done it all properly. Anna and her family were so thrilled. I could see they were awed. “Jesus walked on this water,” she said to me over and over again.

As we talked, I explained that these bodies of water are really like streams, ponds or small lakes, that they are nothing like the Atlantic Ocean. That was when Anna told me that she had never seen the ocean. She was 56 years old and lived in Lancaster County, Penn., not far from the Atlantic, but she had never been there.

“I have a car. We will go. I will take you there,” I said.

Since they live in a near blackout of information from outside their community, none of the women in this family knew the closest beach. We asked some of the boys who worked for construction companies.  They told us the nearest beach was Atlantic City, N.J. or Ocean City, Md. We drove to the public library. It would be her first time seeing “the Internet.” I researched that Atlantic City was closest so we went.

I didn’t know anything about Atlantic City and neither did Anna. In my mind, it translated to “the city of the Atlantic,” so it must be a bountiful and clean beach. When I look back on this, I wonder why I didn’t Google it from the library. I think the reason is because I got into Anna’s mindset.

During the nice two and half hour ride with Anna and her daughter, we had very good conversations. I started wondering why, when we came close to the city, we saw many billboards about gambling with immodest pictures, but we didn’t think that had anything to do with us. When we arrived, we parked at a hotel garage and press “C” on the elevator thinking it was the way outside. The other options were just numbers. The elevator doors opened and we were in the level of the casino!

“What did you do?” she asked, again and again. I could see that she was terrified. “I don’t know!” I answered. “I thought that this is the way to the ocean!”

I am a modest woman and I had no idea what I had done or where we were. Anna told me that if anyone were to see her in such a place she would be excommunicated for at least six months.

Then, a kind person recognized from their clothes that Anna and her daughter were Amish.  This stranger understood my terrible mistake. I asked this kind person to take us to the ocean and she led us out of the casino and toward the beach.

Everything changed in the moment when she saw the sea. As the waves washed in and out, Anna and her daughter watched in awe. There were still billboards all around selling things, advertising things we did not want to look at, but there was also a good feeling from the heart.

As she watched the waves wash in and out, she asked, “How do they do that? From all the pictures I have seen, I didn’t know they could move. How can you not believe in G-d when you see this?”

We sat together, our legs in the water, and sang religious songs. They thanked God again and again for the opportunity to see the creation. When we sat there, I called my spouse in Jerusalem.

“Hi, we are at Atlantic City.”

“Are you crazy? He asked. “This is the east coast’s Las Vegas! You should know that this is a casino and immodest place.”

“I grew up as a ‘good Jerusalem’s girl,’” I answered.

In the end, the Amish women and I had the same knowledge about Atlantic City.

Dr. Rivka Neriya-Ben Shahar is a lecturer at the Sapir Academic College in Sderot, Israel, and was a Fulbright Post Doctoral Fellowship recipient for the year of 2011-2012 and a scholar-in-residence, at the Hadassah-Brandeis Institute.

Jews, Tattoos and Plenty of Controversy

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131212_cover_v8_i1By Michelle Cove

I remember one of my Jewish women friends telling me in tears about how her 20-something son got a tattoo (the first time). He did it without telling her, knowing she would be horrified and view the act as a betrayal against their religion. She did. There were many tears and screams. The two have gotten through it okay, but it took my friend awhile to find any kind of peace with this.

This past week, a colleague of mine, another Jewish mom, told me with sadness about her 18-year-old son coming home recently with a tattoo. While she was (somewhat) touched he chose a symbol to honor his deceased grandfather, she couldn’t help but feel that her son crossed a Jewish line. “It’s hard to put into words exactly what upsets me,” she confessed, “but I do worry he may be a little less connected to his Jewish heritage, or that the tattoo may be some kind of deal breaker for what could have been a future Jewish wife.”

All around the country Jewish parents and their grown-up children are having heated discussions around tattoos; the fact is, 40 percent of Americans age 26 to 40 have a tattoo now, according to Pew Research.

What’s the exact problem here? It depends on whom you ask. Some parents consider it against the Jewish law, referring to Leviticus 19:29, which states “You shall not make gashes in your flesh for the dead, or incise any marks on yourselves: I am the Lord.” Others find it, if not unlawful, then extremely disrespectful to the Jewish community. Some find it low-class, and plenty of parents just worry it’s an impulsive bad decision that will last a lifetime.

Here’s what’s fascinating: Many young Jews are getting tattoos as ways to solidify and strengthen their feelings of Jewish identity. They are choosing tattoos of a Biblical quote, Hebrew word, or Jewish symbol, such as a hamsa or Star of David. An increasing number of young Jews are even having the Holocaust number of a deceased relative tattooed on their forearm. Can tattoos make a young Jewish person more connected to their religion?

This question is creating a tremendous amount of discussion and controversy, and questions about what this latest trend means for the Jewish people. That’s why 614, the online magazine of the HBI, decided to devote the Jan/Feb issue to “Jews and Tattoos.” We hope you’ll read through the collection of essays, see where you stand, and join the conversation.

Michelle Cove is the editor of 614. Additionally, she is the author of I Love Mondays: And other confessions from devoted working moms (Seal Press, 2012) and I’m Not Mad, I Just Hate You: A new understanding of mother-daughter conflict (Viking, 2012), as well as the filmmaker of “Seeking Happily Ever After” and “One and Only”. Visit michellecove.com.

HBI Launches New Books

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By Amy Sessler Powell

lauraschorbooksigningNEW YORK – With a warm crowd filling the Brandeis House on a cold night, Dr. Laura Schor, HBI’s board chairwoman, launched her new book, “The Best School in Jerusalem: Annie Landau’s School for Girls, 1900–1960,” with a forward by Dr. Shulamit Reinharz, HBI’s founder and co-director.

In attendance was Dr. Oliver Sacks, best known for his role as neurologist and best-selling author. Lesser known is that Dr. Sacks is the nephew of the book’s subject, Annie Landau.

Dr. Sacks shared heartwarming anecdotes about his “Aunt Annie” from his childhood adding that she was small in stature but powerful in her presence. He recalled a time when he rode his tricycle on Shabbat and found himself stuck in a downpour. He recalled being scolded by Landau who reminded him “what happens when you ride your tricycle on Shabbat.”

Schor also shared anecdotes about Landau, including that she often brought her own interpretation to Orthodox observance. One such example was when she threw a masquerade party and danced with men.

The successful book launch was held just one month after the launch of two other books in the HBI Series on Jewish Women and Brandeis Series on Gender, Culture, Religion and Law published by University Press of New England: “Fertility and Jewish Law: Feminist Perspectives on Orthodox Responsa Literature,” by Ronit Irshai and “Marriage and Divorce in the Jewish State: Israel’s Civil War,” by Netty Gross-Horowitz and Susan Weiss. Together the three events drew approximately 200 different people.

Dr. Reinharz noted that though these books hail from an academic publisher, the books by Schor and by Weiss and Gross-Horowitz are accessible to readers outside of academia.

She drew ties between Landau’s contribution to education in Israel in the time of the Yishuv after coming England and the contributions to agunot activism made by Gross-Horowitz and Weiss after they moved to Israel from the U.S., she reflected that, “These books show how women who came to Israel from other places made a huge difference. They demonstrate what can be done,” said Dr. Reinharz.

Here are summaries of the three books.

Schor_BestSchoolJerusalem“The Best School in Jerusalem: Annie Landau’s School for Girls, 1900–1960,” recounts the remarkable tenure of Annie Landau as principal of the Evelina de Rothschild School in Jerusalem. A biography of both an extraordinary woman and a thriving institution, this book offers a lens through which to view the struggles of the nascent Zionist movement, World War I, poverty and unemployment in the Yishuv, and the relations between the religious and secular sectors and between Arabs and Jews, as well as Landau’s own dual loyalties to the British and to the evolving Jewish community.

marriageanddivorce“Marriage and Divorce in the Jewish State: Israel’s Civil War,” is a comprehensive look at how rabbinical courts control Israeli marriage and divorce. With no civil marriage or divorce in Israel, the interpretation and implementation of Torah law is in the hands of the Orthodox religious establishment, the only stream of Judaism that enjoys legal recognition in Israel. The rabbinic courts strenuously oppose any changes to this so-called status quo arrangement between religious and secular authorities. In fact, religious courts in Israel are currently pressing for expanded jurisdiction beyond personal status, stressing their importance to Israel’s growing religious community. Using case studies, this book shows how religious courts, based on centuries-old patriarchal law, undermine the full civil and human rights of Jewish women in Israel.

fertilityandjewishlaw“Fertility and Jewish Law: Feminist Perspectives on Orthodox Responsa Literature,” is a comprehensive comparative study of Jewish law on contemporary reproductive issues from a gender perspective. The book presents, from the perspective of feminist jurisprudence and feminist and liberal bioethics, a complete study of Jewish law (halakhah) on contemporary reproductive issues such as birth control, abortion, and assisted fertility. Irshai examines these issues to probe gender-based values that underlie the interpretations and determinations reached by modern practitioners of halakhah. Her primary goal is to tell, through common halakhic tools, a different halakhic story, one that takes account of the female narrative and its missing perspective.

For more information on the HBI books, visit http://www.upne.com/series/BSJW.html or http://www.upne.com/series/BSAJ.html.

Amy Sessler Powell is director of communications at HBI.