The subject of women in Judaism, women's place in the synagogue, women's prayer, women's anything frankly in religion is a hot topic - and it's not cooling off. We're certainly making progress, but sometimes that progress is painfully slow.
I recently wrote about my thoughts that arose after my son's school performance, making me miss the experience of truly engaging with prayer in a community setting.
This past weekend our neighbors celebrated their son turning 13 and his Bar Mitzvah. They had the Shabbat morning service at the Orthodox synagogue down the street from our house. That's the synagogue where we don't go - that's a story for another time. They are our friends, the mom does not come from a religious background, so we made sure to get up and get there on time to celebrate with them.
I sat in the women's section - which also happens to be the back - of the synagogue. There is a mechitza, a separation between the men and women which happens to be made of wood with a curtain panel from roughly your bellybutton to above your head, if you are an average height woman. At certain times it is permissible to pull back the curtain to see more clearly to where the action is happening.
I found myself, as I often do in a situation of separate seating, fuming about the situation. Now, there are certainly synagogues, like Shira Hadasha in Jerusalem, that have found a way to make a more egalitarian division of the sexes - the mechitza is equal opportunity separation - right down the middle and both sides get a fair share. That's not what happens at this synagogue. It's women in the back, two rows of seats jammed on each other, and that's all. There is a door right into the women's section and every time it opens and closes the noise from the hallway rushes in to disturb. It opens often because the children are coming in first to find mom, of course.
So what we are left with sitting there in our two cramped rows of plastic chairs is that we really don't need to be there. The presence, the attendance, of men is far more important. So they have the comfortable chairs and 80% of the space. The door into their section is set off from where people are sitting a bit so the noise doesn't carry. And no one congregates outside that door anyway, so as not to disturb. The lectern and the Torah are all placed on the men's side and the Torah is read from there. The Torah isn't even brought over for the women to honor.
It is quite clear - things are separate and most certainly no equal.
And until that changes, the ability to grow and adapt will stagnate. As long as one side is kept down, or at the very least is not on even standing, that inequality will result in imbalance. We should strive to lead a life of balance, in all ways.
It's almost the holiday of Shavuot, the time when the Jewish people received the Torah at Mount Sinai. As far as I know, all six hundred some thousand Israelites stood together as a community to receive the law. There was no men's side and women's side. Even if there were, what is really important to note is that all of the Israelites stood at Sinai to accept the Torah, not just the men. To think otherwise is to delude ourselves. But I guess that's how it has to go to perpetuate separate that isn't even attempting to appear equal.
Chag Shavuot Sameach!
I recently wrote about my thoughts that arose after my son's school performance, making me miss the experience of truly engaging with prayer in a community setting.
This past weekend our neighbors celebrated their son turning 13 and his Bar Mitzvah. They had the Shabbat morning service at the Orthodox synagogue down the street from our house. That's the synagogue where we don't go - that's a story for another time. They are our friends, the mom does not come from a religious background, so we made sure to get up and get there on time to celebrate with them.
I sat in the women's section - which also happens to be the back - of the synagogue. There is a mechitza, a separation between the men and women which happens to be made of wood with a curtain panel from roughly your bellybutton to above your head, if you are an average height woman. At certain times it is permissible to pull back the curtain to see more clearly to where the action is happening.
I found myself, as I often do in a situation of separate seating, fuming about the situation. Now, there are certainly synagogues, like Shira Hadasha in Jerusalem, that have found a way to make a more egalitarian division of the sexes - the mechitza is equal opportunity separation - right down the middle and both sides get a fair share. That's not what happens at this synagogue. It's women in the back, two rows of seats jammed on each other, and that's all. There is a door right into the women's section and every time it opens and closes the noise from the hallway rushes in to disturb. It opens often because the children are coming in first to find mom, of course.
So what we are left with sitting there in our two cramped rows of plastic chairs is that we really don't need to be there. The presence, the attendance, of men is far more important. So they have the comfortable chairs and 80% of the space. The door into their section is set off from where people are sitting a bit so the noise doesn't carry. And no one congregates outside that door anyway, so as not to disturb. The lectern and the Torah are all placed on the men's side and the Torah is read from there. The Torah isn't even brought over for the women to honor.
It is quite clear - things are separate and most certainly no equal.
And until that changes, the ability to grow and adapt will stagnate. As long as one side is kept down, or at the very least is not on even standing, that inequality will result in imbalance. We should strive to lead a life of balance, in all ways.
Chag Shavuot Sameach!
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