I can clearly remember where I was sitting, in the midst of my Bible class during my final semester at Stern College for Women. We were learning about Miriam’s death in the book of Numbers and the subsequent loss of water for the Jewish people. The well dried up. Why was that? The slew of commentators makes it clear that the Jewish people did not properly mourn Miriam’s death. They did not give the proper kavod, honor, to one of the greatest leaders of our nation.
One by one, students raised their hands to defend the Jewish people’s decision. “Well…Miriam was really behind the scenes.” “Well…she did not have a role like Moses and Aaron.” I kept hearing excuse after excuse. I looked at the clock and decided that I would wait ten minutes for someone to defend Miriam’s honor. I waited those ten slow painstaking minutes, and then I raised my hand. I questioned why medieval commentaries were more progressive and supportive of the role of women than my classmates in the twenty first century.
I could not help associating this experience with the recent public responses to Rabbi Moshe Kahn’s shiur, lecture, about the halakhic parameters of delaying procreation. I read Hannah Dreyfus’ take on the event published in the Jewish Week, and Blanche Haddad’s response printed in the Observer. I then listened to the shiur itself and would recommend reading his article “Halakhic Matters in Delaying Procreation” which was published in Yeshivat Chovevei Torah Rabbinical School’s Meorot Journal.
In first reading the back and forth, I was frustrated. I felt like little had changed since my time on campus in 2003. It seemed that a number of the students were insistent that the fact that birth control is permitted by halakha is not related to feminism. Haddad stated that she is “not arguing that halakha and feminist ideals are inherently separate and can never be reconciled; to me, this is rarely the case. However, the two are not inherently linked in our case of postponing the mitzvah de’oraita [biblical obligation] of procreation; rather, there is space within halakha for a couple to make the decision to delay procreation due to a couple’s pressing concerns, and not a ‘feminist ideal of personal choice.’” Rabbi Kahn, empowered students to make their own decisions about family planning girded with the knowledge shared in his shiur and article.
When people, especially relatively young people, try to dissociate certain liberties, including birth control, from the feminist movement, I feel that there is often a lack of hakarat hatov, proper gratitude and recognition for those rabbis, lobbyists, feminists and other supporters who went to great lengths for all of us to have more choices. It wasn’t until 1972 that access to birth control was legalized for all Americans. I questioned this mindset—the absence of hakarat hatov– when I was a senior in college, and I initially felt that way in reading these articles about the shiur.
By last night, I had considered a new lens for viewing the sentiments of these students. Perhaps access to birth control, at least in the Modern Orthodox community, is a given at this point. At what point in time do we stop declaring that this is a fight to be won? When have we reached the moment when we are so far past the line in the sand, that what was once controversial a battle to be won has not only been won, but it is now accepted, normative, and no longer questioned.
One might argue that these students have moved beyond their predecessors’ outlooks and are not looking at the world with rose colored glasses, rather they are looking at the world with their realities, their truths.
While this may be applicable for example, in regard to the Civil Rights movement, in that many battles have been won, such as integrated seating on busses, I’m not sure that the same can be applied to women in Orthodox Judaism. It is not a given that a woman can sit wherever she chooses on a bus in Brooklyn or Israel. It is not a given that a woman will feel that she can make personal, financial, or life-changing decisions without the psak, decision, of a rabbi. It is not a given that women can serve as a synagogue president.
In some ways, I am gladdened that these students view choices, such as using birth control for family planning, as their rights and as normative, but it is important to understand the halakhic premise for these rights as well as detractors’ arguments as Rabbi Kahn aptly spoke to in his shiur. Access to, and halakhic permission to use birth control, is not a given for all Orthodox women.
I was moved by the women portrayed in the film Be Fruitful and Multiply who shared their stories of feeling overwhelmed by their perceived obligation to have well over a dozen children because they were not provided with the choice to control their reproductive system. Viewing this film and hearing first-hand accounts from women who have struggled with the commandment to “be fruitful and multiply” might be a good follow up exercise to take place at Stern and in other communities. In today’s world, regardless of your own personal religious practice, your place of employment may have control over your body as well as was heatedly debated in regard to the Affordable Care Act and Hobby Lobby.
Stern College provides a place where women can engage in deep halakhic discourse, academic pursuits and flourish in a variety of resources outside of the classroom. I say this out of love and the utmost respect for my colleagues and soon to be colleagues. We are extremely privileged. Privileges can never be taken for granted. Much of what may seem permanent is not as stable as some of you may think. In order to hold our ground and continue to have personal choice as Orthodox women, we need to continue learning halakha, being aware of detractors and their rationale, and understanding and embodying gratitude. Without gratitude for those who we owe a debt for setting the stage that we can walk on today, those who currently support and empower us, I fear that there is much to be lost.
I subscribe to a variety of listservs, Facebook groups, and news outlets across a wide range of the religious spectrum, in order to have an understanding of local issues in different circles of the Jewish community. One group, which I have found to be informative, although I may not always agree with most of the opinions posted in the group, is a Facebook group for female Jewish outreach professionals. Most of the members, nearly ninety-five percent, would not consider themselves to be Modern Orthodox. They are right leaning, which is what made their reaction to recent news all the more inspiring to me.
As I was following the story of Angela Merkel being photoshopped out of the front page photo in the Hareidi newspaper, HaMevaser, I was somewhat torn about my reaction. I was most concerned with those who had just lost their loved ones, and I did not feel like it was the time to give attention to fanaticism in Orthodoxy. I felt uneasy pushing an agenda, shedding light on the likes of HaMevaser, when I should have been mourning or praying.
What really surprised me throughout this ordeal was the conversation that ensued among these generally right-wing women outreach professionals. The conversation opened my eyes, and I hope that their sentiment is heard as a call for action. It is not only left-leaning people who feel disenfranchised and dare I say, enraged, by the omission of women in leadership during such a difficult time. The women who are hosting challah baking and strongly identify as traditional Orthodox Hareidi women, are enraged as well. They worry about their public roles diminishing because of their absence in the media.
They are frustrated that their faces will not be in public relations material or their annual dinner’s video simply because they are women. They worry that they will not be able to do their jobs because a Judaism without women is inauthentic, extremist, and not what they signed up for. They see HaMevaser’s tactics as fanatic and one woman in this group suggested that this portrays Orthodox Jews as radicals, specifically as being no different from the Taliban.
While a number of photoshopped images made their way across my Facebook newsfeed as a way of protesting or calling out HaMevaser’s censorship, one photo said it all for me – the photo highlighting that only three women had to be erased from a group of world leaders.
When all of us women feel this way, across the board, how do we take a stand? How do we make sure that we have a voice in all publications? How do we ensure that we aren’t erased and that we have a role and an impact? It seems that following the example of the newly minted “Bezchutan” party could be a great place to start. Maybe it is time for ultra-Orthodox women to become editors and decision makers in Hareidi publications. If they are not given those opportunities, then it’s time to start a new newspaper and create more jobs and opportunities for women to have a voice.
We can also spread awareness in other ways, similar to the photoshopped image which crops out all of the men. One woman in the group suggested, in a joking manner, photobombing images–making sure women are included in all photographs of male rabbis or politicians. Maybe it is time for us to unite in a photobombing social media campaign. The National Council of Jewish Women recently funded a successful advertising campaign with women’s images on busses in Jerusalem. What I would like to suggest, or rather affirm, is that women’s exclusion is not a Haredi problem, it is our problem. There are men and women, some who identify as liberal, and others who identify as Hareidi, who see this as an opportunity to call for change. Let’s heed that call and empower all women.
“Are you going to fast on Yom Kippur?” “Are you going to try not to eat until chatzot, midday?” These were the questions my friends and I were discussing around the age of 10 and 11. We had never considered that there would be a period of time in our future when we would have to ask those questions again. As an 11-year-old, I proudly shared that I fasted before I was obligated. It wasn’t until over a decade later that I would begin grappling with these questions again.
Although the questions remain the same, the circumstances and process for coming to an answer has changed. As a child, I did not ask a rabbi what I should be doing. I knew the general custom and practice amongst my peers, and made my own decision accordingly. I did not feel an ounce of guilt if I broke my fast early. Ironically, the process looks very different for adult women who are either pregnant, nursing, or trying to conceive.
As Yom Kippur is rapidly approaching, a number of articles and posts on this topic have arisen. Maharat Rachel Kohl Finegold, who has spoken on this issue in the past, recently published “Pregnant and Nursing Women Fasting on Yom Kippur-Reflections” on Morethodoxy.
This piece followed her shiur, “Fasting for Two: Who Makes the Call?”, disseminated by JOFA this past Tisha B’Av. Her shiur spurred a great discussion on my personal Facebook wall. Women shared stories of reluctantly fasting, nervous of the effect that it would have on their unborn children or their nursing supply. I recall one woman in particular giving an hourly update of the wails of her nursing child. She had decided that since her child was almost one year old, and eating supplementary food, that she would fast. For whatever reason, her child was refusing solid food on that particular day. The mother had made her decision before the fast, and despite the change in circumstances, would not revisit her decision. It was painful to read her account on that day.
We all make our own decisions of what to eat when pregnant, how to exercise, what to exclude from our diets, whether or not to nurse, etc. Fasting while pregnant or nursing seems to be a decision unlike others. This is one area with which many observant women, throughout the spectrum of the Orthodox community, grapple and are left feeling uneasy no matter the outcome. Guilt is always the result. Women feel guilty for “breaking the fast early” or for not properly nourishing their children. Even if breaking the fast entails eating according to defined shiurim (a halakhic measurement of food permissible according to biblical law) once an hour, the guilt remains. If one chooses to fast for the duration, the guilt remains.
One cannot ignore the spike in pregnant women being admitted to the hospital during and following Yom Kippur. While it may be “okay” to fast while nursing, it can, and has, lowered or diminished milk supply for many women, including a number of women that I know.
A good friend of mine was eagerly following the Facebook discussions born from Maharat Kohl Finegold’s shiur. She had already been nursing her then nine-month-old, and decided to fast on Tisha B’Av. She knew that she wanted to wean him in the coming months, and figured that it would seem inauthentic to eat on Tisha B’Av with that in mind. She was uncomfortable because she felt as if she was trying to rationalize why she should not have to fast without any strong support for this decision. This led to her coming to a stringent decision to completely abstain from water and food throughout the fast day. While she had been nursing her child three to four times a day, her child refused to nurse from the tenth of Av and on. She is not positive why it ended, but, most likely, it was because her milk supply had diminished. Anecdotally, my friend’s story is far from unique.
As children, we were confident in our decisions whether or not to fast, because we were not halakhically obligated. As noted in the articles cited below, there are both halakhic and health factors that mothers should take into consideration. Just as mothers research strollers, baby gear and the like, we should put effort into researching and coming to a decision on whether or not to fast. Mothers asking this question should read the articles mentioned below and think about this decision in advance of the fast day. Making the decision at the last minute contributes to a sense of uneasiness and urgency.
While I am not a medical or halakhic authority, below are a number of items to consider and questions to ask your trusted physician and halakhic authority:
- How far along are you in your pregnancy?
- Is your pregnancy high risk?
- See your doctor or midwife before the fast to ensure that your baby’s prenatal vitals are in good shape.
- Ask your doctor if there is anything else that they think you should know. Are there any risks involved in fasting? Any relevant studies?
- What risks are involved for the child of a nursing mother? For a pregnant mother?
- How old is the child that you are nursing? Does this affect your decision?
- If you need to drink/eat any amount during the fast, what should you drink/eat? (I would suggest a protein drink or the like.) Where should you drink/eat?
- What halakhic options are available to you on general fast days? How do things differ on Yom Kippur?
- While you have a “game plan,” what should be your action plan if your situation changes during Yom Kippur? Will you eat or drink? Will you decide to stay home? What are options or issues that may be a consideration?
Some suggestions to make the fast easier:
- Prepare by drinking extra water the day before the fast.
- If possible, make sure that you will have extra help for your children and any other responsibilities that would put extra strain on you during the fast day.
It is time for us to recognize that our bodies and our children are holy vessels. The same way that we make decisions about where and how to pray, what minhag, custom, to follow, and how to observe halakha, we need to take ownership over this decision.
It has pained me to read and hear the words of women sharing their level of pain or discomfort, or the cries of their nursing children who are hungry. Women who ask rabbis whether they should fast are sometimes told to fast until they become sick or until it would affect their milk supply. Most women, most people, cannot answer that.
The halakhic process is best lived out when we are in dialogue with modern medicine, attuned to our own health needs and have access to well trained, compassionate, and knowledgeable poskim and poskot, halakhic decisors. There is an ever expanding network of Maharats, Rabbis, Yoatzot Halakha and other klei kodesh, spiritual leaders, who welcome a genuine and mutual conversation on these important and sensitive subjects. When we, as women and mothers, are empowered in this conversation the entire halakhic process benefits.
‘Does Fasting Put Pregnant Women at Risk?’
BabyCentre on Fasting in Pregnancy
Doctors: Fasting during all but last weeks of pregnancy increases risks
Effect of a 24+ hour fast on breast milk composition
Fasting on Yom Kippur During Pregnancy by Hannah Katsman
Impact of maternal fasting during Ramadan on growth parameters of exclusively breastfed infants Journal of Fasting and Health. 2013;1(2):66-69
Teshuva from Rav Nachum Rabinovitz, Rosh Yeshiva of Maaleh Adumim
I still have not gotten situated to the long Shabbats of the summer. For sixteen summers, I was immersed in the beauty that is Camp Stone. At camp I looked at my watch not in anticipation of when Shabbat would end, but rather to see how many precious minutes of this beautiful time still remained. Camp was an environment in which I felt empowered as I thrived as a person; a Jew and a woman. It was a place where, at the age of thirteen, I could be entrusted with the welfare of my plugah, my fire pit work crew, at the machaneh chutz, the two night camping trip. By fifteen, I was carrying a canoe, without assistance, for over a mile on a week-long canoe trip. It was the place where, at the age of nineteen, I cared for campers as if they were my own. Despite my numerous positive experiences, I clearly remember serving as the Sganit Rosh Moshava, second-in-command at camp if you will, and leading an educational activity.
Overall, I found my job that summer to be invigorating. I was working with staff and campers, creating programming, solving problems and building relationships. There was one moment, however, that I will never forget. That young blonde haired girl, soon to enter sixth grade, mentioned that a woman could not be a Rosh Moshava, a head of camp. Although her statement was irrelevant to the educational conversation about prayer, her words lit a fire in me. She may not have even been born during the years that Ellie Schreiber and Estee Eisenberg had enthusiastically taken on the role. Truth be told, in nearly forty years of camp, only two women, in comparison with upwards of fifteen men, held the title of “Rosh Mosh.” A couple of years later, then serving as a woman Rosh Moshava, I winked at the camper, now entering eighth grade, as her bus pulled into camp.
This camper’s words made it clear to me that I had an opportunity to show her that camp is a place without glass ceilings. That it truly was a coincidence that the role of Rosh Moshava had been held by men in in the 2000s. Since 2008, two more women have stepped up to the plate as Rosh Moshava at Camp Stone. My serving as Rosh Moshava was only a piece of the puzzle.
Those in the camping world often describe camps with utopian language. Camps are set in remote locations allowing distance from the ‘negative’ influences from general society. While camp is an opportunity to negate gender stereotypes, it is also a place where stereotypes can be strongly reinforced. For example, while a healthy body image can be difficult to maintain with television, the fashion world, magazines and other media, camps can choose to allow such magazines into camp or they can create a culture where conversation about one’s weight is taboo. Camps, and the general community, need to take this powerful responsibility in. Camps can serve as catalysts for change.
I encourage camps to push further, past the obvious goals of ridding our youth of sexism. Camps can be the place to reinforce or reinvent norms and rituals of the Orthodox Jewish community. Camp is a place where girls sweat, get covered in mud, can let their hair and guard down and be anything but ladylike. Research has demonstrated this truth since the early twentieth century. What is special about camp is that the unique setting makes a woman saying kiddush on Friday night, for example, normative or mainstream within the Orthodox camp community. Why is that the case? Because camp administrators create a culture and what they say goes. I appreciated the way that Yaakov Fleischmann, former Rosh Moshava, put it while addressing camp staff. He explained that it does not matter if you fit in, what you are like at home, or what is popular outside of camp. Inside of camp, he enthusiastically expressed, “You define ‘cool.’” The camp administration trains camp staff in understanding camp values in such a way that staff can transfer those values to campers. It does not matter what is ‘cool’ back home, inside of camp, it is a whole new game. What may be considered questionable or controversial at a synagogue is the standard in camp.
What makes camp critical in effecting long term change, is when campers and staff bring their camp experiences to their home communities and question the status quo. Camp is a place where gender equity, gender balance, and inclusion of women in ritual have the most potent impact. The beauty of camps, in contrast with other settings, is that school and synagogue politics do not factor into decisions. When potential areas of improvement are identified, action can be taken expeditiously. Camp decisions are based on chinuch, on the welfare of the campers, resulting in an environment that is willing to listen and adapt to best meet the needs of our daughters, our future.