Female religious leadership

THE Orthodox world has been taken by storm over the issue of whether women should be conferred with a title indicating an official rabbinic leadership role.

It started with Rabbi Avi Weiss of The Hebrew Institute of Riverdale. He has trained a woman to serve in the capacity of rabbi and conferred an official title on her, first maharat, then rabba.

It all came to a head when, as a consequence, the more right wing Agudath Israel Organization took the stand excluding Rabbi Avi Weiss from Orthodoxy and the more middle of the road modern Orthodox Rabbinical Council of America reaching a compromise with him that he will continue to develop the role of women, but without the conferral of an official rabbinic title.

Members of the community on the left feel Rabbi Weiss capitulated, while members of the community on the right feel it was a weak and insufficient concession.

Across the Jewish world we all know Rabbi Avi Weiss. He is the face of the Jew who is there at the side of random Jews, officially strangers to him, in their time of need. Be they Soviet Jews or Israelis suffering from terrorism.

Whether you agree with him or not, whether you feel his politics are radical or not, you know Rabbi Weiss. You know he is not quiet about what he believes. Although he is personally a gentle person — you know he does not take the soft approach to change.

When he feels something is wrong, he does everything he can right the wrong he feels is taking place. With Rabbi Avi Weiss it is boldness, thunder and lightening, not the fine quiet voice of a demama daka. Read the related news coverage

This time, with Orthodox female rabbinic leadership, it is no different. This is no longer a quiet revolution taking place in the Orthodox community. Rabbi Weiss, if nothing else, has brought this issue and question of what the evolution of the female role in Judaism is to the fore, in a way that has forced the entire spectrum of Orthodoxy to confront and engage in conversation.

I believe Rabbi Weiss acts from a place of integrity and being true to himself.

OVER the years I have met him here and there, but only once did I have a meaningful interaction with him. It was very brief — but very powerful.

It was in a hospital — an extremely tense, end-of-life situation I found myself witnessing. Where every minute could literally count. Our interaction was by phone, not even face to face, but it impacted me a lot. Those brief, insightful words of his? They changed the course for a family in crisis.

Here were two of the most devoted sons you will ever meet, devoted to one another as simply and deeply as the famous Jewish folktale of the two brothers who, despite being as discreet as possible, meet up in the middle of the night in their wheat fields. They were each going to help the other in what they perceived to be what the other lacked.

Tradition teaches that G-d, so inspired by this model of devoted brotherhood, decided that such a holy loving place would be the site of His Temple.

And the two real brothers I was witnessing in the hospital, united devotion to their parents? You have never seen anything like it.

If Chazal (our sages) had known these two brothers, I wouldn’t be surprised if they had used their model and not Dama Ben Netina’s for kibbud av ve’em, for how far devotion in respecting parents goes.

Where did this all come from? From the model these two sons witnessed in their parents’ devotion for each another.

So, here it was, their mother was dying, and they were paralyzed about how, or even whether, they should tell their father about her passing.

Here were the two most beautiful sons you could ever meet, actually considering withholding the news of the death of their beloved mother from their father.

It was going to be an elaborate ruse, but it was being seriously considered.

They asked me what I thought they should do. I really didn’t feel it was my place, but they pressed and wanted to know my gut. I thought they should tell him, and even give him the chance to say goodbye to her.

This was all so tense. Their mother lying, dying before them. Their unwell father at home alone. They, painfully paralyzed by the need to make such a decision and know the pain and damage the news would cause their dear father.

I sensed these two sons should tell their father and give him the chance to say goodbye, or at least choose how he would remember her for the last time. I humbly shared this with them.

But I had no idea how to shepherd them through this process.

I called my father. His immediate reaction was: Call Rabbi Avi Weiss. When it comes to pastoral matters, there is absolutely no one like him.

The family in the hospital I was with is almost chasidic, a classic Eastern European family. Let me put it this way. They have a “roov,” not a rav, and definitely not a rabbi.

I did not want to call Rabbi Weiss without talking it over with them because I know he does not represent their religious worldview, and might even be offended. I explained that I would be calling for emotional-rabbinic guidance, not for halachic guidance.

The brother who was there at the time agreed. I called. I spoke with Mrs. Weiss and explained the situation. I have never met her. She was very gracious and said she would see what she could do. Rabbi Weiss, probably one of the busiest rabbis around, and I am not even a congregant — basically, a total stranger to him —  called me back.

Within a conversation spanning not more than three to five minutes I learned so much from him. He gave me the wise words and perspective with which to cope with this most intense life-and-death situation, right there in the hospital. He gave me the strength and confidence to be a messenger for this family.

I KNOW this is all somewhat tangential to the issue at hand of female leadership. I just felt I really couldn’t mention Rabbi Weiss without sharing the one personal interaction I have had with him.

In terms of the substance of the issue, I am kind of sitting on the sidelines, watching, just curious how it will all play out through the years, through the generations.

Remember, the Bat Mitzvah equivalent of the male Bar Mitzvah, was initiated about 100 years ago by Mordechai Kaplan, founder of the Reconstructionist movement. For a long time a Bat Mitzvah was a marginalized, secular oriented happening. Today, I don’t know anyone in the Orthodox community, across the spectrum, who does not in some way acknowledge this milestone as a religious rite of passage for young girls. And remember, until cherem d’Rabbeinu Gershom, polygamy was accepted. My point is, Torah principles remain the same and immutable, but over time, some things happen. That is part of the brilliance of Yiddishkeit and Halachah. I don’t know that the current effort should or will change anything, but I do know that ignoring the dynamic dimension of Yiddishkeit in the face of such a discussion is oversimplifying things.

Also, we do have a tradition of Devora the Prophetess, of Chulda the Prophetess, and of Bruria. Granted, they were most unusual, but this model of female leadership and scholarship, and of men consulting with them in this capacity, is still a proud part of our history.

I think both sides have strong arguments, and maybe it is good that the envelope is being pushed by both extremes in order to arrive somewhere in the middle, at Maimonides’ golden mean. If the mitnaggedim had not vehemently opposed Hasidism the way they did, perhaps Hasidism would today be a sect resembling Judaism, but not Judaism.

I really don’t know the halachic nature of this issue. I understand it is complicated. Plus, there is the sociological issue of how Jewish changes come about, slowly, quietly, over time, with consensus, if and when they do.

This really all started, in a very basic way, with the revolutionary decision of the holy sage, Rav Yisrael Meir Kagan, known as the Chafetz Chaim, when, in his deep understanding of the changing roles of woman in society, he allowed and encouraged Jewish education for women,to help attach them to Yiddishkeit. The more direct foundation for the current discussion is the decision of Rabbanit Chana Henkin over a decade ago to train women to act as halachic decisors in the laws pertaining to intimacy between husband and wife.

What is important is the conversation Rabbi Weiss has brought to the fore: What exactly is the role, or will be the role, of women in our religious society?