The essays cover these women’s exploration of what it means (to them) to be Jewish. Some attempted to seek traditional roots, only to find that Orthodox and Conservative Judaism make no room for women to actively participate. Some sought an example in Zionism, only to find oppression of women and Palestinians. Some created their own versions of Judaic ritual, with mixed results. Not one of the essayists waited for change to occur – each acted as her own change agent.
Although Judaism (like any other major religion) was designed and is run as a patriarchal social construct, nevertheless modern feminists can reverse-engineer this construct in order to build a better spiritual vehicle without sacrificing their need to connect to a higher power. Religion is a set of beliefs about life – which created it, how to live it, and what comes after it. Out of this set of beliefs comes dogma – core principles that govern the interpretation of the set of beliefs. Out of dogma comes canon – religious law, undisputed by the faithful. Looked at in this way, religion is a machine, composed of wheels within wheels, whose engine drives the faithful alone the road of life. What if the machine that carries you is uncomfortable? What if you feel as though you are strapped to the hood with bungee cord, an obvious afterthought to the engineers who designed this cruiser? Sure, the core set of beliefs seem to have ‘always’ been there – they show up in every major religion in the world; but the dogma and canon law vary according to principle and setting. But, who made the machine surrounding the core?
Judaism is a religion shaped and controlled by patriarchy. The writings and interpretations of the underlying belief system and its applications have, until recently, been the exclusive domain of male authorities. Women have been excluded from the study and practice of most of the significant rituals involved in Jewish religious life. Until recently, the only choices women had were to passively accept the patriarchal design and shape of Judaism or leave the synagogue (which also meant being separated form family, friends, and community). That is no longer the case. Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia, has this interesting entry: “Reverse engineering (RE) is the process of discovering the technological principles of a mechanical application through analysis of its structure, function and operation. It often involves taking something (e.g., a mechanical device, an electrical component, a software program) apart and analyzing its workings in detail, usually with the intention to construct a new device or program that does the same thing without actually copying anything from the original. A telling analogy of RE is that the research of physical laws can be seen as reverse-engineering the world itself.” Now, third wave Jewish feminists can take apart this ‘machine’ and rebuild it in a comfortable fit, without losing any of its functionality.
Several essayists have chosen to wear religiously significant clothing, traditionally reserved for males, in the practice of their ritual prayers. This is one example of reverse-engineering as applied to Judaism. The women examined the rituals requiring a tefillin and broke them down to their component parts, asking what purpose the practice and restriction served, then reclaiming the ritual for their own use. This may mean openly touching the Torah, which means banishment form the synagogue in some cases, or performing the ritual in the privacy of one’s own home. Women today can pick and choose the elements of Judaism that suit their spiritual needs and redesign the daily practice of their faith.
This is in no way easy. Modern third wave Jewish feminists are struggling with defining their identity in terms of faith and cultural ethnicity. What does it mean to be a secular Jew? How does one reconcile the horrors of the Holocaust with the horrors of incest? How does one choose between reclaiming a much-needed safe haven and respecting the people who were living there until your people shoved them out? How does one respect the Law of Moses when it calls you unclean? How can you pray in a temple whose rules demand that you are neither seen nor heard?
Question everything. Take nothing for granted. Yiskah (Jessica) Rosenfeld’s essay examines the way we view Lilith and Eve; her exercise in reverse-engineering reveals a deeper meaning to be found and applied to the story of Adam’s spouses. Women can look at Eve and see a lonely nurturer, excluded from the intimate father/son relationship, whose conversation with the serpent (Lilith in disguise?) leads her to attain growth and knowledge, which her love inspires her to share with Adam. It is a different view from the original (Eve was not submissive, so she was punished) and the feminist version (Eve was spineless and easily led), though constructed from the same materials.
“Once, while in college, I took a friend who had never heard of the joyous, raucous holiday of Simchat Torah to services at the seminary. As soon as we arrived, he was handed a Torah scroll and welcomed enthusiastically into a crowd of euphoric, dancing, singing men. As usual, I had to stand in the back, watching with the women. After an hour, I could no longer control my rage and I simply threw myself into the crowd of men and started dancing, too. A rabbinical student angrily grabbed me and demanded, “Who gave you permission to dance?” Calmly, I replied, “God.” He threw me out” writes Susannah Heschel in the Foreword. Why couldn’t the women dance? Possibly one or more of the men may have made a vow to God to allow no woman but his wife to touch him. If so, why didn’t the man or men in question sit out dances? Why not have dancing circles for women, if one must segregate the sexes? The women were deprived of joy, detached from this holy celebration.
“For many American Jewish women under thirty, the question is not “Is it acceptable for me to wear a kippah or read Torah as a woman?” but instead “Is it possible to be a thinking individual and an observant Jew at the same time?” or “Can I have a personally meaningful spiritual life and simultaneously take part in Jewish tradition?” (161) writes Emily Wages. If one does nothing to alter the components and/or meaning of Jewish tradition, then the answer to the last two questions must be “No”. Thinking individuals inevitably question tradition. I am a recently-converted Catholic and the first thing I did when I heard about the Vatican requesting all Catholics boycott Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code was go out and buy two copies – NO ONE gets to tell me what I can or can’t read. I gave one copy to my RCIA sponsor. Does this mean I am not a good Catholic? Maybe, if your definition of a good Catholic requires unquestioning obedience. I don’t think feminists today are capable of unquestioning obedience – and I am glad.
Judaism, like any other major religion, is not the exclusive property of men. A love it or leave it attitude should not apply. If you want to keep your belief system without the baggage of patriarchy, reverse-engineer it; take it apart and rebuild it without the misogyny. As with any other machine, right is running- if it’s running its right. Although Judaism is run as a patriarchal social construct, feminists can reverse-engineer this construct in order to build a better spiritual vehicle.
Work Cited
2001. Ruttenberg, Danya (ed.). Yentl’s Revenge. Seal Press.
