Friday afternoon, I had the absolute pleasure to watch my cousin Hannah rehearse all her prayers for her bat mitzvah. She sung beautifully, and I looked up at her in wonder, amazed at how what was once a two-year-old wandering my uncle’s house in a tutu could become the amazing young lady she is today.
She was saying the morning prayers as I heard her say the line: “Baruch atah Adonai, elohenu melech ha’olam, sheasani bat horin.”
I lingered on this line in my head, enjoying my cousin’s beautiful voice. Hannah will probably learn one day, as I did, that in the Orthodox version of this line for men boils down to, “Blessed are you, G-d, lord of the universe, for not making me a woman.”
There are many interpretations to this line – supposedly, the rabbis felt that women would be too busy so they would be unable to fill all of the mitzvot, or commandments. In fact, there are three mitzvot women are commanded to do: bake challah, light Shabbat candles and family purity (don’t get me started on that subject; you don’t want to go there with me). Then there’s the concept that women are spiritually higher than men, so therefore they are also not obligated to do as much. So men must thank G-d for being able to perform more mitzvot
No matter how you approach it, being a Jewish woman is not an easy task. It is multifaceted, filled with potholes, loopholes and any other type of hole you can imagine. We have a strange place in the Jewish community as mothers and/or daughters, but at the same time, we are still trying to find a place. This struggle comes with confusion, obligations and difficulties.
I have been at different services, ranging from Reconstructionist up to Ultra-Orthodox, where the dividing line between men and women, or mehitzah, is so high that you can’t even see what’s going on, and all you can hear are the children running back and forth and talking loudly to all their friends, with their mothers trying to quiet them. I grew up in the Conservative movement, so sitting an area where I can’t pray, but rather get to listen to everyone’s screaming children run around and slam doors isn’t exactly my cup of tea. But for some women, they have their glory behind this barrier, and enjoy it. Being a woman in prayer behind a wall isn’t where Jewish womanhood is for me. And so, I worry.
I worry about if I have a daughter in the future, and she would have to be a part of this. How do I explain to her the confusing absence of Miriam and all the amazing prophecies she had during the Exodus from Egypt in the Torah text? How do I explain that women supposedly “aren’t required” to perform all the mitzvot the men are? What do I tell her when she hears stories of boys getting their grand bar mitzvah at the Western Wall in the heart of Jerusalem with cheers and celebration, and the girls being regulated to a tiny and quiet party in some obscure corner of the state of Israel?
Then there are the interactions she may have with the Orthodox community. How do I explain that, after a certain age, she is no longer able to sing in front of men as loudly as she wants to, no matter what she feels in her heart? How would she feel while the men danced in joy and the women were just left to clap quietly, and she is dying to dance, too? Would she understand the mehitzah? What do I tell her about this strange barrier, or why boys and girls aren’t even allowed in the same classes together in Orthodox schools?
It’s during this that I think about two things. One is the prayer of Eshet Chayil, or “Woman of Valor,” which is sung in many Orthodox communities on Friday nights. I happen to love this song, as it acknowledges women as being the backbone of their households, working hard and strengthening the children and their husbands (Interesting fact: In ancient times, since men were supposed to study Torah all day, it was the women who often dealt with commerce and trade and made the living for their families). It is amazing that a song, that talks of women as being the ones who make all the difference, although their difference seems small.
The second is something that was mentioned at the recent women’s weekend that I went on. At one point, one of the girls asked if there were men’s weekends as well.
“They tried to keep it up, but they just couldn’t,” one of the women who had been there since the beginning of these retreats. “We women are organizers.”
There are many things that women have that men don’t seem to quite get. We organize and we are able to bond. We share in laughter, tears and everything that the world wants us to shut ourselves off to. We understand life and love on a level that seems to enter the realm of men. Men have to learn love of Torah, while I have found that some women just grip onto it, not letting go of the joy.
It’s why it makes me so happy that Orthodox women are starting to host women’s-only services, complete with Torah readings, dancing and celebration of the Holy One. I personally don’t think it’s enough to say to women that you’re holy enough. We need to pass this on to the girls of the Jewish people and make them feel involved in this incredible legacy that they are going to get from their mothers and grandmothers. They should not be silent; they should never be silent. They should enjoy, pray, laugh, sing, celebrate and love the Torah with all of their hearts, souls and mights.
Since this is a special holiday, there will be no recipe, but rather a video that will make all women laugh heartily. Let’s just say that that Dodge’s commercial of man’s last stand has nothing on us ladies.
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