I grew up in a Reform community. It was the only Jewish community that served not only my city but also the larger county and even parts of the neighboring country.
When I was in college, after visits to Israel, I found myself increasing the amount of religious observance in my life. Having been a vegetarian for many years, kashruth was not a concern. Fundamentally I was keeping kosher. Observing Shabbat, marking the end of each week was a new experience for me. That meant both participating more fully in Hillel activities for Friday night and also making my room a Shabbat observance space - walking places, not turning lights on and off, no computer, no phone. It was a good opportunity to recharge during the hectic atmosphere of college.
After college I found myself participating in a large, Conservative synagogue and thoroughly finding my place, feeling that what I needed from Judaism, what I needed from prayer was being met.
Then I got married (in a Conservative synagogue by a Conservative rabbi) and we moved west. And we found ourselves moving towards the Orthodox community because that's where the families who kept kosher and kept Shabbat were. They weren't at the Conservative synagogue. We missed our east coast community. But we liked the people in the Orthodox community and found a bit of a home. We made it work, more or less.
And then we moved to Israel. And I have finally reached a point where I can no longer pretend that the Orthodox prayer environment, the Orthodox prayer experience works for me in any way shape or form.
Prayer, for men, in the Orthodox world, is mandatory and whenever possible communal - at least on Shabbat, if not daily. Prayer, for women, in the Orthodox world is solitary, at home, secondary to tending to the children if needed. At least that's what I've observed and experienced. There's an acceptance of this status quo. Someone has to tend the children, after all.
To stand in a balcony or behind a screen in the back is not only isolating it's demoralizing. The message is clear - I don't need to be here, my presence is voluntary, at best. I'm not part of the community. And more so, by being separate from my husband and children (typically with him for services), my prayer experience is less dynamic and vivid because I'm not able to share it as part of our family experience.
I am not participating in passing on this beautiful tradition and obligation to my children, whom I have brought into the world with my own body.
Tonight, my middle son, danced on his school stage (a national religious school), with his father's tallit - the one he got for our wedding. I stood in the crowd watching my almost 10 year old dance with such seriousness and intensity with his male classmates as they celebrated 50 years of a reunified Jerusalem.
It brought me to tears. Not just the "immigrant mom" hormones that seem to hit me at every school event since we moved here. More deeply - I saw my little boy, on his way to growing up, dancing with purpose, with ownership of that tallit. It should have been too big on him, but it wasn't. It fit him.
And it hit me. It hit me hard how much I miss participating in regular, meaningful, Conservative Shabbat morning services. Those services that if you closed your eyes and just listen sound like an Orthodox service, but when you open your eyes and look around you see men and women sitting together. That being the only difference - the equality, the pluralism, the welcome to all to take part of the prayer experience.
I miss that. I want that. I need that. And it's nowhere to be found.
It's a shame that Modern Orthodoxy here in Israel is so backward thinking. Each and everyone of us should have the opportunity to deeply connect with prayer and the prayer experience - not to ever feel excluded or unwanted.
You men, who have created such rules and strictures would be nothing without women - literally you would not exist if it were not for your mothers who brought you into the world. So how can you push the women off to the side and deny us a fair and equal, and rightful, place together in prayer?
Prayer, and the prayer experience, should enhance our lives. It should be a highlight of our day or week, or both. For everyone. But all too often it is not.
Religion and the beliefs that come with religion are dynamic. To deny that is irrational. We live in a constantly evolving and developing world - we have since time immemorial. Yet somehow we have attempted to freeze prayer in time and hold it in a sacred way that is exclusionary. It needn't be. It shouldn't be.
So what now?
When I was in college, after visits to Israel, I found myself increasing the amount of religious observance in my life. Having been a vegetarian for many years, kashruth was not a concern. Fundamentally I was keeping kosher. Observing Shabbat, marking the end of each week was a new experience for me. That meant both participating more fully in Hillel activities for Friday night and also making my room a Shabbat observance space - walking places, not turning lights on and off, no computer, no phone. It was a good opportunity to recharge during the hectic atmosphere of college.
After college I found myself participating in a large, Conservative synagogue and thoroughly finding my place, feeling that what I needed from Judaism, what I needed from prayer was being met.
Then I got married (in a Conservative synagogue by a Conservative rabbi) and we moved west. And we found ourselves moving towards the Orthodox community because that's where the families who kept kosher and kept Shabbat were. They weren't at the Conservative synagogue. We missed our east coast community. But we liked the people in the Orthodox community and found a bit of a home. We made it work, more or less.
And then we moved to Israel. And I have finally reached a point where I can no longer pretend that the Orthodox prayer environment, the Orthodox prayer experience works for me in any way shape or form.
Prayer, for men, in the Orthodox world, is mandatory and whenever possible communal - at least on Shabbat, if not daily. Prayer, for women, in the Orthodox world is solitary, at home, secondary to tending to the children if needed. At least that's what I've observed and experienced. There's an acceptance of this status quo. Someone has to tend the children, after all.
To stand in a balcony or behind a screen in the back is not only isolating it's demoralizing. The message is clear - I don't need to be here, my presence is voluntary, at best. I'm not part of the community. And more so, by being separate from my husband and children (typically with him for services), my prayer experience is less dynamic and vivid because I'm not able to share it as part of our family experience.
I am not participating in passing on this beautiful tradition and obligation to my children, whom I have brought into the world with my own body.
Tonight, my middle son, danced on his school stage (a national religious school), with his father's tallit - the one he got for our wedding. I stood in the crowd watching my almost 10 year old dance with such seriousness and intensity with his male classmates as they celebrated 50 years of a reunified Jerusalem.
It brought me to tears. Not just the "immigrant mom" hormones that seem to hit me at every school event since we moved here. More deeply - I saw my little boy, on his way to growing up, dancing with purpose, with ownership of that tallit. It should have been too big on him, but it wasn't. It fit him.
And it hit me. It hit me hard how much I miss participating in regular, meaningful, Conservative Shabbat morning services. Those services that if you closed your eyes and just listen sound like an Orthodox service, but when you open your eyes and look around you see men and women sitting together. That being the only difference - the equality, the pluralism, the welcome to all to take part of the prayer experience.
I miss that. I want that. I need that. And it's nowhere to be found.
It's a shame that Modern Orthodoxy here in Israel is so backward thinking. Each and everyone of us should have the opportunity to deeply connect with prayer and the prayer experience - not to ever feel excluded or unwanted.
You men, who have created such rules and strictures would be nothing without women - literally you would not exist if it were not for your mothers who brought you into the world. So how can you push the women off to the side and deny us a fair and equal, and rightful, place together in prayer?
Prayer, and the prayer experience, should enhance our lives. It should be a highlight of our day or week, or both. For everyone. But all too often it is not.
Religion and the beliefs that come with religion are dynamic. To deny that is irrational. We live in a constantly evolving and developing world - we have since time immemorial. Yet somehow we have attempted to freeze prayer in time and hold it in a sacred way that is exclusionary. It needn't be. It shouldn't be.
So what now?
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