Life is a tapestry. We humans are only able to see the back of the tapestry, replete with knots and hanging strings interwoven amongst sections of intricate beauty. To the naked eye it might seem that it is nothing more than a jumble of threads strewn together in a haphazard disconnected mess. It is our job to remember though that we are only looking at the back of the tapestry. There is a Master Tapestry-maker who can see the other side and is busy creating the most exquisite picture for all of mankind.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Eyal, Gil-ad, Naftali... May we not find comfort.

I won't bother stating the obvious about Eyal, Naftali and Gil-ad.  There is no point in commenting on the pain... It is a shared heartache throughout Klal Yisrael.  I, just this minute, finished watching the funeral live online. Rav David Lau did inspire me and did bring me a modicum of comfort... But I need only look at the faces of those parents to return me to my original state. To gaze upon the bodies of children, murdered children, cut down before they even had the chance to really begin... There is no comfort in that. There is no comforting a nation who has watched time and again as the other nations of the world seek to destroy them. 
Some twenty years ago I had the unfortunate privilege to sit beside the aron of my friend Gail's sister, Alisa Flatow, at her levaya. Alisa was also murdered in Israel by terrorists. I was just about the age of Gil-ad and Naftali. Alisa was about the age of Eyal. I remember staring at that simple pine box draped in the flag of Israel and wondering how my life would ever be the same again.  The answer was simple... It would not ever be the same again.  I would not ever be the same again.
And here I am, almost twenty years later, gazing from 6,000 miles away upon the bodies of more children murdered for the sin of being a Jew. I am twenty years older but somehow feel none the wiser. I feel lost as I did back then. I am seeking out comfort as I did back then... Hoping beyond hope that I might find some crumb of wisdom that will magically make it all make sense. I looked to my friends comments on Facebook to see if anyone had anything that would help... But all I found there were more lost souls such as mine.  People seeking out answers, seeking out comfort. I went to update my own status in an effort to join my nation in our shared grief.  The only words I could come up with were עד מתי ה׳, עד מתי????  Until when G-d, until when???
There are no answers, and frankly I pray that we all feel no comfort.  We are a nation bereft... And so it should be. I pray that we remain united as a people. I pray that the achdut and unity that was displayed over the last 18 days remains with us. Sadly, I believe that for now, it is only with broken hearts and with those three sweet faces vivid in our collective minds eye that such unity will live on.  In galut that's the way it is.  We seemingly have only our pain to unite us.  Perhaps that is what we should mourn most of all.
I don't know... I just don't know. In some ways these last few weeks have brought to light a feeling of "mi k'amchah Yisrael" ("Who else is like the nation of Israel?") like few other things have... And yet in the pit of my stomach I still have that same unresolvable, lingering question of "ad matai Hashem, ad matai?"  And so today I pray not that we be comforted, but that we hold onto our pain, hold onto our grief, and keep the faces of those sweet boys at the forefront of our consciousness!  May we clutch closely to our hearts the ache that lives deeply within us so that we might remember, forever, the pain that unites us.  May our pain today and the pain of twenty years ago never be forgotten.  May we strengthen ourselves and unite amidst the grief, and may we use that commonality to breech the rough waters that often divide our small nation.  May the memories of Eyal, Gil-ad and Naftali forever be a blessing, and may they be the inspiration for us all to remain a united people for all of eternity; and in their merit may we all continue to be united in happier times.   


Sunday, January 26, 2014

Women and Tefillin


In recent days there has been much media attention given to the New York-area day schools that have formalized their policies in favor of allowing female students to don tefiillin during school hours should they choose to do so.  There have been countless articles and statements made by men and women alike exalting these schools and the young ladies in their student bodies who are choosing to take on this iconic mitzvah.  Social media has been abuzz with chatter about the schools, their decisions and the idea of moving the Modern Orthodox Jewish world into more modern times. 

Seemingly, donning tefillin has become tantamount to burning ones bra in the most halachic of terms.  The new face of the suffragette is one with black leather straps framing her face and a small holy box crowning her head; but why?  What, if anything, about wearing tefillin makes women feel so much more connected to G-d? 

Living in the world today, we in the Modern Orthodox Jewish Community are faced with many issues which both challenge and guide us in the further development of our nation.  In the United States we live in a world where the “rights” of humans are many, but do not always coincide with our “rights” as dictated by Torah law.  My rights as an American, which give me the ability to practice my religion as I see fit, are the cornerstone to the foundation of this country and I am endlessly grateful for them.  They allow me to be a practicing Jew, to keep Shabbat, to learn Torah and to generally be the person that I choose to be. 

Having these freedoms allows me to be a Torah Observant Jew, and it is the Torah itself, which I choose to follow, that dictates exactly how far my freedoms may go.  It provides a totally different sort of freedom; one that we as a nation chose as we stood at the foot of Mount Sinai. A nation unified in our dedication to G-d and all that He asks of us.  As a people we chose to except upon ourselves a different sort of Chairut (freedom.)  We chose the freedom of rules, the freedom of structure and the freedom to follow the Creator of the World in whatever way He sees fit.  Jewish freedom is not defined by one’s ability to do whatever it is that we choose, it is defined by our ability to choose Who to believe in and Who to guide us through this world.

Society outside of the Jewish world would dictate that in order to be equal we must all be the same.  As an Orthodox Jewish woman I do not believe this to be the case.  I do not believe that all human beings are required to follow the commandments of the Torah, but I think no less of those not born into our nation.  I do not believe that those born outside of the tribe of Judah are destined to be the kings that lead our nation, nor do I expect to see Israelites stand before our congregation in blessing us during birkat kohanim (the priestly blessing.)  I recognize that no one human being can ever fully participate in each one of the 613 commandments set forth by G-d.  The Torah is a plan for a nation, and only united can His plan ever be truly fulfilled. 

Why then, I ask, has the mitzvah of tefillin for women become so all important?  Is there some primal need and desire for a woman to strap a leather box to her arm and head that makes her feel closer to the Creator of the World?  Were it not for the commandment, I would even go so far as to venture a guess that men themselves would not have come up with such an initiative.  There is little that I have come across that leads me to understand or believe that the desire to lay tefillin is one of a natural spiritual progression, rather it seems to stem from a desire to follow halachah as dictated by the Torah.

So then why, again, are women feeling such a pull and a need to lay tefillin?  It is seemingly not a natural spiritual desire such as prayer, where one reaches out to G-d as if in conversation.  As far as I have been able to deduce the desire to wear tefillin comes from the desire to follow G-d’s law.  But, for thousands of years women have lived highly spiritual and religious lives without the need to fulfill this commandment on the whole. 

Some will contest that for thousands of years the halachot surrounding tefillin have been misunderstood and twisted and it is therefore the job of the Modern Jewish Woman to “take back” the law and reintroduce this concept into mainstream Judaism.  It is widely known that the holy daughters of Rashi himself were said to have donned their own tefillin; and I certainly cannot speak to the finer halachic points regarding a woman’s ability to wear tefillin as I am not nearly well versed enough to make such a determination.  Truthfully though, my question is not whether or not we can, my question remains, why do so many women want to?  I do not dare stand in judgment of anyone who wants to further their connection to G-d, I simply seek to understand how the mitzvah of tefillin aides in doing so.

Why has wearing tefillin itself become such a focus?  Have the other mitzvoth been perfected?  Why this particular mitzvah?  Are there not less controversial mitzvoth to which we women can dedicate our time?  The choice to wear tefillin does not seem to fulfill an intellectual need that has been awoken in women across the world.  It does not even seem to fulfill an innate spiritual need. 

To this one humble observer it seems to fill the need for many living in modern society today to be the same; and in being the same, they then consider themselves equal.  In Jewish life, however, to be equal is not always to be the same.

We can all agree that women and men were not, in fact, created the same.  This is not to say that they were created unequal, simply different.  There are biological and physiological differences.  Is it sexiest or unequal for a woman to seek out treatment from a physician who specializes in women’s health?  Is it elitist to want someone who recognizes that a woman is not simply a smaller man but a unique creation unto herself?  And what about doctors who specialize in Jewish genetic diseases?  Should we deny that such illnesses even exist in the name of being “the same?”  The answer to all of these ridiculous questions is “of course not.”  To deny the differences among people is to deny reality.  Why then do women across the world seek to be so similar to men?

Why did women fight for the right to wear pants yet men never seemed to, en masse, take on the cause of wearing dresses? Why are so many women in the world intent on being smaller men?  Why is it that to be a feminist in today’s day and age one needs to have the desire to do everything a man has traditionally done?  Why is there so little pride in what women have been able to accomplish in their more traditional roles?  

I don’t claim to have all of the answers and I certainly don’t stand in judgment of those seeking to improve their relationship with G-d.  I do however have a problem with those who stand in judgment of me.  Those who claim that I lack pride in my own gender or think I am “weak” for not having the same needs and desires as they do.  I am no less a feminist for not feeling the need to wear tefillin then they are for wanting to do just that.  I am a proud Jewish woman; strong, intelligent and spiritual.  My desire to be different from men does not make me subservient or unequal.  It is simply my admission that G-d in His infinite wisdom has created me different then my male counterparts, and I don’t need to earn societies respect by pretending otherwise.


I recognize and dare I even say celebrate the differences between men and women.  Who is to say that women aren’t the stronger of the two sexes?  Muscle mass is not the only measure of strength.  Women have been recognized since the beginning of time as being the spiritually dominant gender.  Why then do so many seek to have the same spiritual requirements of the “lesser sex?”  Again, I can and do respect all people who desire to reach their greatest potential in every area of life. I only hope that someday soon women across the world, Jew and non-Jew alike, will recognize that our worth is not measured in terms of how much of a man we can be, but in how much of ourselves we can be.