After a few months of nose to the grind studies and pop-rocks
chocolate-fueled evenings knee deep in Hebrew grammar, I had a week that really
merits sharing, and most of all with those I love. Lest this year ever start to
feel routine or mundane, I found myself in the presence this week of over 200
of the most innovative progressive Jewish leaders in Jerusalem. Many came from
North America to celebrate the 25th Anniversary of Women of the Wall, some
came to see a deeply devoted cohort of 4 Israeli Reform Rabbis become ordained
on our campus, and some, in fact came to meet the incoming class of HUC
Rabbinical and Cantorial students. (Oh
goodness that means me!)
My ears are still ringing with diverse range of voices of
progressive Judaism that I’ve had the great honor of hearing -among them Anat
Hoffman of Nashot Ha Kotel, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vaaj8INViDQ&feature=player_embedded, Rabbi Gilad Kariv of the Israel Religious
Action Center, and David Ellison, the outgoing President of HUC. Each are
standing, in unique ways, for a vision of a pluralistic Jewish society that
frees everyone to express themselves Jewishly (and humanly) in the way that personally
resonates whether that expression is at the Kotel, in the knesset, or at the
shuk. It’s a vision that sounds simple,
and at the same time, especially in the Israeli public sphere, where every
facet of life from the time your birth certificate is issued to the time your
plot is picked requires a qualification of Jewish identity, it’s deeply radical
and the realization of safe spaces for pluralism is an uphill battle. This week, however, seeing a glimmer of this
vision actualized in an unexpected place and gave me reason to hope:
Several months ago, when I wrote about the monthly gathering
of Women of the Wall (Nashot Hakotel) that meets to pray in public at the kotel
each Rosh Hodesh, I described feeling drowned in a sort of spiritual assault
that came from opposition to women’s prayer at the wall. At least women’s
prayer that includes singing outloud, wearing a tallit, or reading from the
Torah. Heckled and jeered, I felt lost, and silenced. It felt like a social
protest, but it was not a spiritual service.
This past Monday morning could not have been more different.
Surrounded by a sea of women across every level of observance and denomination,
and supportive males as well, led by a fierce cadre of Israeli female rabbis (a
rareity that does exist here) whose voices rang out, sang, clapped and prayed, I
found my own voice was right there in lockstep. It was not lost, but instead
singing with abandon. And friends-I am not a public singer. Of course there were
boos, there were whistles, and perhaps there will always be, from those for whom others’ expression can never
be anything but an existential threat to their own. But swept up in prayer, I
noticed it only as a silly afterthought.
We spent the entire day together, learning, davening, dining
and dancing to Miriams’ song. We sang for a day when no Israeli woman or girl’s
expression of Judaism would be compromised or silenced. My horah (that
grapevine dance thing) could really use some work, but there wasn’t an inch of
me that wasn’t glowing to be in that kind of company. I have some powerful,
practical 1-inch heels to fill. (Lets be honest, rabbis aren’t known for their
stilettos). ..
It hasn’t all been highs here, and lest you get any
impression otherwise, the day to day is still very much about celebrating small
victories: winning the HUC costume contest by dressing as Heinz condiments with
our friend’s 2 year old as a ketchup packet, recognizing a teeny tiny dot in a
letter of the Torah that miraculously changes the entire meaning of the
sentence , dissecting the essays of Ahad Ha’am, buying the right kind of
detergent, or at least pretending you actually wanted dish soap anyways if
that’s what you got….
But I felt this week, praying on my feet in cheap Isaeli
sandals, hearing leaders speak for pluralistic expression-which is absolutely
not without sacrifice, struggle and discomfort, that ultimately, the doubt
dissipating about what I’m doing here, and the excitement stirring about what
is yet to come on this well trod
learning path.
"Pursue some path, however narrow and crooked, in which you can walk with love and reverence."
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