A Little Bit of Blood

(If you can't tell from the title, this post is going to deal with "feminine matters" [read: periods]. If such things are unappealing to you, move onward...)

For the first time in my life today, I saw a male gynecologist. My doctor was out of town and I had a matter that needed to be taken care of. (No, I am not pregnant.) Although I see nothing wrong in having a male gynecologist per se, it was something I always avoided. Because, quite frankly, they don't have the same parts... and they don't know what it feels like.

Now maybe this isn't a fair way to make this decision. But my prejudice (it is that, I'll admit) was slightly bolstered today, when I asked the doctor if a particular procedure would hurt and he answered with a smile, "Well, I've obviously never had it but..."

The whole experience got me thinking about niddah, taharat hamishpacha, and rabbis. I remember when I found out the particulars of this system as a high school student. That if a woman bled in between cycles she had to bring a sample of the stain (likely on her underwear) to a rabbi to determine whether or not it was kosher. I was horrified. With all the talk of tzniut, this was considered acceptable? And not only acceptable, but necessary? Granted, her husband could bring it for her, etc., etc., but it still seems so immodest and even demeaning to have some guy who's not your sexual partner know about the color of the stains in your underwear.

Now I know that female yoatzot are increasingly taking up this role, which (in my mind) is a good thing. But for hundreds of years the above scenario was the norm. And in more right-wing communities, it still is today. (Though why a yoetzet would be considered threatening to the tradition is really beyond me.)

My train-of-thought went further and somewhat away from the male-rabbi-issue. I'll be open about the nature of my visit (ah, the luxury of anonymous blogs!). That is, for many months now, I've been having abnormal bleeding. To be specific, I've been "spotting" ALMOST EVERY DAY and bleeding heavily twice a month. (Probably due to fibroids.) Not fun, sure, but it would be even less fun if I was Orthodox. Because if I was Orthodox and (therefore) keeping the laws of Taharat Hamishpacha, I wouldn't have been able to touch (let alone sleep with) my husband for the past few months.

I remember the discussions of Taharat Hamishpacha in high school and seminary. How it was a perfect system because it allowed for a "honeymoon" each month where the husband and wife longed for each other like it was the first time since they hadn't been able to touch for the two weeks prior.

All well and good for women with normal cycles. But the punishment for those women with abnormal cycles and their husbands is colossal. (There is a really interesting example of this in Anat Zuria's film Tehorah.)

I have (as of yet) no conclusion to draw from the above rant. It is just that. A rant. But I do have to say that given my situation, I am quite happy not to be Orthodox at this point in my life. I imagine a world in which I would have to deal with a rabbi in addition to a gynecologist, where this medical stress in my life would be coupled with a lack of intimacy with my husband - and I am particularly thankful that I am where I am today.

The Old & New Faces of Orthodox Womanhood ...I hope?

So, this week I read two articles that seemed diametrically opposed to each other.

The first was about an agunah who was finally freed after 48 years from her "chained" status by her former husband's death at the age of 73. See the full article here.

The second was about the first ordination of a female Orthodox rabbi. (Okay, fine, "rabbah.")

The optimist in me would like to think that this is the beginning of a long path on which Orthodoxy will eventually give women equal status to men. If this is true, these stories might be seen as representative of the old and new faces of Orthodox womanhood, respectively.

Of course, there are still limitations. Rabbah Hurwitz can't serve as a witness (something I find seriously offensive to my morals) and she won't be counted in a minyan. In all probability, she probably also will never be a pulpit rabbi. After all, as someone has commented, "Where would she sit?" and "What Orthodox shul would hire a female rabbi?"

Again, I want to be optimistic and say that even these inequalities will be ironed out in the years to come. Maybe not in this generation, maybe not in the next, but certainly at some time in the future.

That said, there really does appear to be a severe backlash. After all, the RCA are calling Rabbi Avi Weiss (the rabbi who ordained Rabbah Hurwitz) before their disciplinary board over the ordination. And there are rumors that they are considering kicking him out -- a move that, for many Orthodox Jews, is tantamount to calling his status as Orthodox into question.

And let's not forget that, even with all of the public outcry and publicity that the agunah issue has had over the last few years, the issue is still far from being resolved. Indeed, as the first article mentions, a 2006 international convention to discuss the issue was called off by Israel's chief rabbi only five days before it was slated to begin. This is widely believed to be due to pressure from the Ultra-Orthodox community.

But if the Ultra-Orthodox community can't stand behind an issue so widely understood as problematic as the agunah issue, can we really expect them to legitimize Rabbi Hurwitz's ordination? I'm inclined to say no.

Increasingly, this appears to me to be the very beginning of yet another break in Judaism between the RW and LW Orthodox -- one which might very well become the start of a new movement that is no longer called "Orthodox."

Still, the optimist in me can hope, right?

Here's to a filtering through of Orthofeminism...

Wow

The Jewish Press (!) recently published an article called, "Orthodox Women Clergy?"by Michael J. Broyde, in which the author contends that the times in which we live warrant the Orthodox Movement both training women as clergy and giving them recognition as such.

To be honest, this seems way more radical than anything I expected to see in the Orthodox world during my lifetime. But really, really exciting. Yes, he says that women shouldn't be called "rabbi" because of "reasons ranging from formal authority (serarah) being limited to men, to the title being given only to those who can serve as witnesses or function as chazzanim, to it simply being a matter of tradition," but I still think that it would be a huge step for the movement.

I am ridiculously excited that some in the Orthodox movement recognize that women today are capable of holding and should hold clergy positions (and that, in truth, women already perform the duties that warrant them being labeled as clergy). And that this is true to the effect that an Orthodox newspaper like the Jewish Press is willing to publish an editorial to that effect!

This is a huge step from the (Modern Orthodox) world in which I was raised where, a mere 15 years ago, my school gave the girls cooking, sewing, and typing classes while the boys took gemarah and mishnah.

Being the Anomaly

Fortunately (perhaps!) for my parents, not all of their spawn turned out to be quite the skeptic that I am.

In fact, all of my siblings became even more "observant" than we were raised to be (and more frum than my parents are now), which has made for some interesting table talk between me & said siblings/siblings' spouses.

But the wide gulf separating me and my siblings has never been quite so glaring as now, when their children are becoming old enough to become aware of said gap.

Today, I was informed by my three-year-old niece that I was still a "little girl" because I wasn't an "Ima." This is perhaps not as funny (can I call it that?) as my five-year-old nephew asking me why I was wearing pants if "only boys wear pants." He then proceeded to ask me if I was Jewish! (Probably the only explanation he could come up with for my outfit of choice.)

Of course, these are children -- and children, it's true, tend to think in absolutes. But my siblings are certainly encouraging those absolutes in the way they're raising their kids. Which makes my position all the more interesting. I am the one person in these kids' lives with whom they will have constant contact over the years who does not fit neatly into the way their parents want them to see the world.

Now my siblings wouldn't cut off contact with me (I think). But I do present this problem that requires an explanation. And in that way, my presence opens up the door to the potential of questioning the absolutes of Orthodox Judaism very early on in their lives.

Not sure what to make of this observation, but it's certainly an interesting position to be in...

Tradition in Non-Traditional Ways

Recently I went to a Conservative Friday night service. Excluding one Conservative bar mitzvah I went to as a kid (and a Reconstructionist funeral...not sure if that counts), this was the first non-Orthodox service I've ever attended.

A girl I'd met a few weeks ago who grew up Conservative had asked me if I wanted to come with her to services once in a while. I told her I was all for it. I'm definitely curious to see what other ways I can continue to feel connected to my Jewishness that might be more in line with my beliefs.

So she took me. She'd never been to this service. It caters to the 20s-30s set, is egalitarian, led by a female rabbi, and sees itself as traditional.

For me, the whole experience was a lot less strange than I thought it would be. Maybe it was because it felt more like an informal prayer group than a formal service, maybe it was because I was seated next to women, but for some reason davening without a mechitzah did not feel weird at all. (Even more bizarre, because when I was at my friend's Christian wedding a few months ago, sitting next to men did feel weird.) In fact, it was nice to feel like I counted, nice to feel like I was really part of things.

Nor, for that matter, did it feel strange to have a female rabbi. Again, this might have been because of the informality of the service. Still, I really liked her. She seemed so excited about everything and she gave a d'var torah that was actually interesting. Not to say that I've never liked a male rabbi before. But there's always been that distance that I've had to keep from them - not a "respect the rabbi" distance (which I did feel with this rabbi, too), but a gender distance, which was suddenly gone.

Two other things did strike me, one of which I liked, and one of which I didn't.

The first - and this, although I found it a bit jarring, I liked - was the addition of the word "imahot" wherever "avot" is usually said, as well as the names of the imahot, wherever the names of the avot are said. Yeah, it made me stumble over chunks of davening, which I've long ago memorized and can repeat by rote. But that feeling was nice because it made me think about what I was doing and what I was saying... And also, though I identify as a feminist, I'd never even noticed how many times it says "avot" or their names without mentioning the imahot. Admittedly, it feels kind of artificial, but not in a bad way. And if I went to such services enough, I'm sure it would begin to feel pretty natural.

The thing I really didn't like (interestingly enough, my friend didn't like it either) was the fact that this service switched off between English and Hebrew. I understand that idea behind it. I get it, I really do. But it sounds awful and it feels awkward... And yeah, I'm spoiled in a way, because I know Hebrew so I understand what I'm saying even when it's not in translation. But I think if I'm going to find one of these groups in which I feel comfortable, it'll have to be entirely in Hebrew.

A Feminist Orthodoxy

This post is inspired by a conversation I’ve been having in the comments thread on XGH's blog.

This is not going to be about my struggles with gender and Judaism. Believe me, I’ve struggled with these. In my teenage years and adulthood, I’ve become painfully aware of what the “separate but equally as special” dictum that many traditionally minded OJs hold really means for women.

But that story and analysis is for a different post and a different time.

This post is about potential and the future.

I’ll reiterate one point first: my problems with OJ (which, granted, I haven’t gone into in any real detail here yet) are NOT limited to gender-related issues. They stretch far beyond this.

That said, if my problems were limited to gender, I think that in 2007 I might have some hope.

It is still quite far from solving everything for me, but I see a lot of promise in the recent introduction of feminist ideology into OJ. Organizations like JOFA and women like Blu Greenberg and Tamar Ross, to my mind, are pushing in the right direction and making much needed advances.

Whether or not they are directly influenced by feminist theory, many OJ women feel a divide between their lives in the secular and religious spheres. These are educated, intelligent women who want to participate more actively in their religion – in addition to their mitzvot they are already performing as women.

Furthermore, they are women who see a real benefit in having a more active female presence in OJ overall. The ordination (?not sure if that’s the right word?) of yoatzot is one example of how this is true.

In the aforementioned conversation that I was having with “Dude” on XGH’s blog, “Dude” said that a feminist OJ is silly/childish, goes against the historical Jewish perspective, and ultimately makes a mockery of halachic flexibility.

I argued that there are precedents for this kind of female role – think Devorah, Bruriah – but they have just been downplayed. With the story of a female judge in Tanach itself, how can anyone argue that there can’t be any place for a woman in Judaism outside her home?

What I find most discouraging is that fact that Dude’s attitude isn’t an anomaly; rejection and disparagement of a more feminist OJ is widespread. The only reason I can come up with for this is knee-jerk sexism; these people feel afraid – like their world, religion, etc., is going to fall apart if such changes are made.

The craziest thing to me about this attitude is that feminist OJ’s changes don’t (in general) violate halacha. In fact, these women have such great respect for halacha that they really only institute rituals that are okay by halachic standards – after speaking with rabbis – when some of them would really want much more radical changes.