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TAKING DOWN
THE WALL |
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Rebecca Phillips |
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Like so many Jewish college students seem to be, I am a confused Jew,
mainly about where I stand religiously. I had always been one of the more
religious people I knew at home. I realized when I arrived on campus that
I had always considered myself "more religious" because I kept kosher.
Upon coming to Columbia and being surrounded by many Jews who pray three
times a day and who strictly observe the laws of Shabbat, I felt
religiously inadequate. I began to consider myself a hypocrite for
following the laws of kashrut but not the laws of Shabbat. My Jewish
identity continued to mean as much to me as it has throughout my life;
Judaism continues to be the most important aspect of my evolving
identity. I have become less sure, however, of the distinct type of
Judaism in which I should participate.
Although I realize now that these distinct lines are in actuality very
blurry, I began last year a quest to learn more about the major factions
of Judaism--specifically the Conservative and Orthodox movements--to see
which one fit my needs and goals for the development of my Jewish life.
I feel the need to become more religious--keeping kosher and attending
services on occasion just isn't cutting it for me. I don't want to lead
a Jewish life distinct from the remainder of my life--I want to live my
life Jewishly.
My attempt to figure out where I belong religiously began with
observations about the Columbia Jewish community, observations that were
superficial at first. I was left with the impression that turning to
Orthodox Judaism was my only option in attaining a more religious
lifestyle. The Orthodox Jews I saw here were the only ones (and I know
now that I made some vast, unfortunate generalizations) who truly seemed
able to live complete and honest Jewish lives while attending college.
While their lives do not revolve solely around Judaism, they seem able to
express their Judaism in certain ways that the rest of us can't, simply
because of the laws they follow. They express their Judaism in what they
wear as well-- kippot for the men and, often, but not always, skirts for
the women. I know that becoming more religious will mean major changes
in my assimilated lifestyle. If I decide in the end that this is what I
need to do to improve my life spiritually, I am ready to make these
commitments.
I know, however, that I wIll never go so far as to consider myself an
Orthodox Jew. I am not able to reconcile a change to Orthodox Judaism
with my being a woman. In the past year, I have read about and have
begun to understand the role traditional Judaism prescribes for women.
It's not nearly as bad as I had previously thought, and I realize that
many Orthodox women are able to live complete and fulfilling lives. It is
reassuring to know that many Orthodox women do not consider themselves
treated as second-class citizens. I have been witness, however, to many
women who do. These women may not realize it, but their acceptance of
the unequal roles in traditional Jewish practice leads them to
spiritually deficient lives.
This summer when I went to Shabbat morning services at an Orthodox shul,
I was struck by how many women miss out on a vital aspect of Judaism
because of their lack of participation in the service. My extended family
is largely Orthodox; my mother was one of the few among her many cousins
and siblings to leave the Orthodox fold. Orthodox Judaism and the
different roles of men and women it necessitates has been far from
foreign to me throughout my life. I consistently go to synagogue with my
Orthodox grandparents every time I visit them, so the experience of
praying in a synagogue with a m'chitzah, the wall dividing the men's
section from the women's section, has become almost as natural as
worshipping in the Conservative synagogue at home.
Praying with a congregation divided by a m'chitzah never affected
me as
it did this past summer. Before, I had always simply accepted my place
as a ConservatIve Jew. When I began to doubt if the ConservatIve
movement was really for me, I was able to see exactly what about
Orthodoxy turned me off: the m'chitzah.
The m'chitzah at the shul where I went was one that divides the men and
the women into the front and the back. I realize that many Orthodox
synagogues are not like this -- instead the m'chitzah in these
synagogues divides the sections into right and left sides. Either way,
it is clear who is supposed to participate in the service and who is not.
In the Orthodox synagogue where I went, the men in the front did
everything and the women did nothing. Some women followed the service,
but most spent the entire time of the service talking with each other, as
if they were totally removed from what was happening on the other side of
the m'chitzah..
It is a sorry situation when the role of women in services has been
relegated to that of conversationalist. The men greet each other hello
and some make small talk, but they know why they're there. The main
reason for going to the service is to pray, not to chat with the other
synagogue members. The accepting attitude of many Orthodox women toward
their secondary role in the service is perhaps worse than the existence
of the m'chitzah itself. Women should realize that the news exchange
should take place after the service, not while the congregants, including
women, are supposed to be praying.
Although it is the one thing about Orthodox Judaism that truly disturbs
me, I know that there is a lot of good in the m'chitzah itself and what
it stands for. I know that I am guilty of all the perils that come along
with praying without a m'chitzah. I am always scoping out members of the
opposite sex during services, and it is sometimes hard to bring myself
back to where the service should rest - on the words of the prayer book
and what I feel about them. But it should be up to me to determine what
my level of spirituality will be. Men are not by nature more spiritual
than women, even if halakha throughout the ages has made it seem that
they are. Unfortunately, it often seems to be only men who understand
that they are in synagogue to pray. Women need to be allowed to develop
their spirituality, and with a m'chitzah dividing them from what is
going on in the service, this is impossible.
Even separate seating without a m'chitzah would be acceptable for now.
This would enable women to become more involved in the service, send the
message that they are important, and start the trend toward greater
participation for women. Women can continue to wear only skirts, they
can continue to be the ones to cook the Shabbat meals, they can continue
to function as religious women. They can continue to do all the things
that traditional Judaism prescribes for women. But they must not also be
forced to sacrifice their spiritual development because of the existence
of a wall.
Orthodox Judaism encourages traditional values and a sense of security
that the other denominations of Judaism do not always have, and which
many Jews, myself included, seek and need in a world lacking values and
security. At a time when so many people are turning away from Orthodox
Judaism (although many do continue to turn to it), the Orthodox
leadership should want to do all it can to attract people. And many more
people would be attracted if more equality was shown to women. The first
step towards this equality, even if it never goes so far as to ordain
Orthodox women Rabbis or have women read from the Torah, is to take down
the m'chitzah, to allow more participation in the service for women.
I consider myself a Conservative Jew now, but I am not always
happy
characterizing myself with this denomination of Judaism. Although I am
not currently an extremely observant Conservative Jew, I would like to
be in the future. There is little help in this quest to become more
observant from within the movement I belong to. It is difficult, for
example, to aspire to become a more religious Jew when I am a member of a
movement in which only twenty-seven percent of the members report that
they keep kosher. I will have to learn to live with this inadequacy,
however, because I cannot accept the secondary role Orthodox Judaism
relegates to women during services.
This hypocrisy I see among Conservative Jews also mirrors the inadequacy
I see among so many Orthodox Jewish women. These women consider
themselves more religious, or at least a part of a more religious
community; but when their role reduces them to talking during public
prayer, the possibility for spiritual development is minimal.
The m'chitzah, in the end, is not just a wall that divides men and women
in Orthodox services. It is for me symbolic of so many of the problems
that Jews today face - how women can begin to achieve equality in
Judaism, how we determine religiosity, who is considered more religious,
and how we can begin to deal with the inadequacies of the various
denominations of Judaism. These are hard questions, questions many Jews
struggle with everyday. I don't know if the problems can be solved, but
in order to live my life completely as a Jewish woman, I have to try to
answer them.
Rebecca Phillips is a Columbia College sophomore.
Comments?