`Dismantling or Renovating?’ The Perspective of an Orthodox
Jewish Feminist
When I was invited to attend this conference, the premise of the conference was presented to me
through a quotation from the late Caribbean-American poet and feminist theorist, Audre Lorde.
Lorde wrote an essay called, "The Master's Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master's House".
The Jewish feminist theologian, Judith Plaskow, using concepts also found in the work of Audre
Lorde, has written:
Like women in many cultures, Jewish women have been projected as Other. Named by a male
community that perceives itself as normative, women are part of the Jewish tradition without its
sources and structures reflecting our experience. Women are Jews, but we do not define
Jewishness. We live, work, and struggle, but our experiences are not recorded, and what is
recorded formulates our experience in male terms. The central categories of Torah, Israel, and
God all are constructed from male perspectives.1
The question was then posed to us, whether patriarchal traditions could be renewed from within.
I found this to be a challenging question for engagement and reflection. I have chosen to call my
paper, “Dismantling or Renovating?” I’m continuing to use the metaphor of the master’s house,
but I’m trying to renew and renovate it, rather than tear it down. In so doing, I am suggesting
that although as a feminist, I am aware of the patriarchal nature of the societies in which Judaism
has been developed, I am sufficiently committed to most of its major foundations that I seek to
change it from within. I think that many of us find great strength in the traditional religions or
cultures in which we have grown up—they are sources of identity, a sense of belonging and
community, texts and stories and customs and festivals and other cultural artifacts that have
become precious to us. And yet sometimes these very artifacts and treasured traditions cause
within us a sense of alienation.
I do believe that it is not necessary to dismantle the traditional Jewish civilization or religious
culture, in order for women to take active and equal roles within it. I will attempt to propose a
five-pronged strategy for Jewish women, that my Jewish feminist colleagues and I have been
working on for almost four decades. If this strategy in some way applicable to other religious
1
Standing Again at Sinai: Judaism from a Feminist Perspective, Harper & Row: San Francisco, 1990, p. 3.
1
cultures, or can at least be useful to our Christian and Muslim sisters-- that would be wonderful.
I know that my own Jewish feminism has been enriched and enhanced by encounters with
feminists from other traditions.
1) The Hebrew Bible, in its very first chapter, posits a belief that all human beings were
created in the image of God. Genesis 1: 27 explicitly states, “…male and female
created He them.” My belief in the equality of all human beings as created in the
Divine Image means for me as a feminist two major things: a) any movement that
strives the enhance the dignity of human beings, such as, for example, the feminist
movement-- I must take very seriously as a religious Jew, and b) that I can not simply
reject out of hand something that was produced by men. If the field under discussion
were music, I would not want to deprive myself of the exquisite pleasure of listening to
works by Mozart or Beethoven simply because they were men. There are Jewish
traditions developed by men that I most assuredly love and cherish.
2) Among these Jewish traditions developed almost exclusively by men is "the tradition
of intellectual pluralism within the normative halakhic (Jewish legal) community
fostered by its skeptical approach to truth-claims." Our tradition is one of debate and
wrestling with texts. A classic Jewish joke maintains that if you put two Jews in a
room, you already have three opinions.
The "houses"—in modern parlance, schools--- of Hillel and Shammai –sages of the
Mishnah--were constantly arguing over points of Jewish law. The Talmud 2 records that
finally, a Divine Voice came down from heaven and declared: "These, and also these, are
the words of the Living God, and the Law is according to the house of Hillel."
I find that passage interesting in three ways: first, it seems to support the notion of plural truths.
Another Rabbinic passage makes this point perhaps even more sharply, in interpreting the Biblical
statement, “The words of the wise are given from one shepherd”:3
"These are the sages who sit in assemblies and study the Torah, some pronouncing unclean and
others pronouncing clean, some prohibiting and others permitting, some declaring unfit and others
declaring fit. But a person might say: How, then, shall I learn Torah? Therefore the text says, all of
2
3
Eruvin 13b
Ecclesiastes 12:11
2
them 'are given from one shepherd.' One God gave them, one leader proclaimed them from the
mouth of the Lord of all creation, Blessed be He…So you listen with great attention and seek to
acquire an understanding heart to grasp the words of those who defile as well as of those who
purify, of those who forbid as well as of those who permit, of those who reject as well as of those
who accept.”4
Thus, we might say that though there is one divine source—the source of Truth with a capital T—
there exist many truths on the human level.
Secondly, although the passage legitimizes both approaches as being “the words of the Living
God,” it does specify that in action, the law follows the House of Hillel. In other words, even when
plural truths are recognized on a theoretical plane, a decision must be taken regarding lawful
behavior in the real world. Otherwise, there would be no sense of community and society would
degenerate into chaos.
Third, the passage seems to fly in the face of another equally well-known passage from another
tractate:5
Again R. Eliezer then said to the Sages, "If the Halakhah agrees with me, let it be proved from
heaven." Sure enough, a divine voice cried out, "Why do you dispute with R. Eliezer, with whom
the Halakhah always agrees?" R. Joshua stood up and protested: "The Torah is not in heaven!"
(Deut. 30:12). We pay no attention to a divine voice because long ago at Mount Sinai You wrote in
your Torah at Mount Sinai, `After the majority must one incline'. (Ex. 23:2)" R. Nathan met [the
prophet] Elijah and asked him, "What did the Holy One do at that moment?" Elijah: "He laughed
[with joy], saying, 'My children have defeated Me, My children have defeated Me.'"
In commenting on this passage, my friend Professor Barry Holtz writes, “…even if Heaven tells us
differently, the human process of interpretation is what matters…Human agency, even at the
expense of ‘truth,’ is what really matters…And of course, like the parent who must accept the
child’s own autonomy, God is delighted.”6
So, do we listen to Divine Voices or do we not? Perhaps we can say that in general, we do not.
Rational discussions are held on the basis of texts and the majority rules. But at one point in
Talmudic "sacred history," it became necessary for a Divine Voice to come down from heaven and
lend its sanction to the idea of plural truths.
4
Hagigah 3a-b
Baba Metzia 59b:
6
Finding Our Way: Jewish Texts and the Lives We Live Today, Schocken Books: New York, 1990, p. 21
5
3
3) Throughout the millennia of Jewish history, there have been significant historical
changes in response to changing social conditions. The scholar who has perhaps
stressed this point most in her work is Professor Judith Hauptman, of the Jewish
Theological Seminary. In her Rereading the Rabbis: A Woman's Voice,7 Hauptman
maintains that "Law tends to develop over time in the direction of the more humane
treatment of the underprivileged."8 Her assessment of the Rabbis is that they conducted
a "benevolent patriarchy." 9
The rabbinic sense of justice and of the Torah as unfolding the will of a merciful and benevolent
God were responsible, according to this approach, for changes in the laws, in the direction of
greater protection for the rights of women. This can be seen perhaps most clearly in laws
relating to marriage, divorce and inheritance.
It should be noted that at least on one occasion, the Talmud records that the rabbis made a
Halakhic decision—to allow women to participate in the ceremony of Semikha, laying hands, on
the festival sacrificial animal—"in order to cause pleasure to the women."10 My own academic
work has revolved around the tremendous revolution that has taken place in more recent times
with regard to Jewish women’s Jewish education. Women were exempted by the Rabbis from
the commandment of Torah study.11 Various explanations have been offered to account for this
exemption. Some have compared it to the general exemption from certain positive
commandments that might interfere with practical considerations for the woman's domestic role
in society. A feminist analysis might explain the exclusion as an attempt to exclude women from
the centers of power and decision-making in traditional Jewish society. Beyond that, certain
classical religious authorities posited sources of women's inferiority in their inferior cognitive
skills or in their inferior moral natures. Positions such as these tend to spawn self-fulfilling
prophecies; if you don't educate girls, because you think they are not intellectually suited to
learn, then they will never be given the opportunity to develop their skills and understanding.
More critical than the reason for the exemption is the question: "Does being exempt from the
7
Westview Press: Boulder, Colo., 1998.
Ibid., p. 5.
9
Ibid.
10
Hagigah 16b.
11
See, for example, Vanessa Ochs, Words on Fire: One Women's Journey into the Sacred , Harcourt, Brace
Jovanovich: San Diego, 1990
8
4
study of Torah mean being excluded from it as well?"12 There were some communities in which
it was forbidden to teach Torah to girls, from books. But since women must keep many of the
commandments, and since if a Jewish wife didn't know anything, it would be difficult for her
husband to live with her,13 girls had to be given at least a rudimentary education. This could be
accomplished informally in the home, through observing what their mothers or other older
female relatives were doing. Thus, the norm in most Jewish communities and in most periods of
history was that while girls did not generally attend institutions of formal learning, they were
also not kept totally ignorant. A second norm developed, as well, that we can call "the
exceptionally learned woman."14 Again, we find a few examples of this in almost every
community and in almost every period—girls who either were taught by their fathers or were
self-taught. But we might view them as the exceptions that proved the rule.
This situation began to change in the mid-15th century, with the invention of the printing press,
making printed books available en masse and, therefore, accessible to women. New genres
arose, particularly in Yiddish, for women, and sometimes, by women. Among these were the
"t'chiness"—supplicatory prayers in Yiddish.15 One of the important documents in Jewish
women's history—the diary of Gluckel of Hameln—here in Germany--dates back to the late 17th
century (specifically, 1691-1719.)16 We can learn much about the lives of Jewish women in early
modern times from reading this work.
In the late 18th and early 19th centuries, the German Jewish community started a system of
schools for girls. The schools had only a very rudimentary curriculum, stressing traditional
women's crafts, alongside basic literacy skills. They were enriched through the work of Samson
Raphael Hirsch (1808-1888), a German rabbi, most notably, of Frankfurt-- educator—
12
Rachel Biale, Women and Jewish Law: The Essential Texts, Their History & Their Relevance for Today,
Schocken Books: NY, 1995, p. 33
13
The husband would have to depend on the wife's knowing some of the laws of ritual purity and of Kashrut, or, at
the very least, what questions to put to a rabbi.
14
Abraham Grossman, Pious and Rebellious: Jewish Women in Medieval Europe, Brandeis UniversityPress:
Waltham, MA, 2004,pp. 162-5.
15
Studied in depth by Chava Weissler. See for example, her Voices of the Matriarchs: Listening to the Prayers of
Early Modern Jewish Women, Beacon Press: Boston, 1999.
16
The work was originally written in Yiddish and has been translated a number of times. Perhaps the most
successful English edition is the updated version of Marvin Lowenthal's translation, The Memoirs of Gluckel of
Hameln, Schocken Books: NY, 1977. Much more recently, Chava Turnianski of the Hebrew University has put out
an annotated edition in Hebrew, Merkaz Shazar: Jerusalem, 2006.
5
philosopher and the founder of the neo-Orthodox movement within Judaism. Under his
leadership, even some coeducational schools were started, and the education of girls became a
value in and of itself.
But in Eastern Europe, the bastion of Jewish Orthodoxy and ultra-Orthodoxy at the time, there
were still no Jewish schools for girls, under religious auspices. The Eastern European rabbinic
authorities respected Hirsch and his project, feeling it appropriate for Germany, where both
assimilation in the form of intermarriage and conversion to Christianity, as well as acculturation,
in the form of liberal religious movements, were on the rise. But, they maintained, this
innovation could not be adopted or emulated in their own, more traditional communities.
Meanwhile, the religious ideal was for men to occupy their time in the study of classical texts.
Thus, the responsibility of earning a livelihood often fell on the shoulders of their wives and
unmarried daughters. Many Jewish women began to acquire extensive linguistic and vocational
skills, which helped them to support their families. In Poland, Jewish girls would sometimes be
sent to study in Catholic schools, run by nuns, with the result that sons and daughters within the
same family might grow up living in totally different cultural worlds. Many of the girls began to
question the religious values and traditions which they had been taught by their parents. There
developed a discrepancy between their secular accomplishments and their relative ignorance of
Jewish sources.
In 1903, at a rabbinical conference in Krakow, the Admor (Hasidic leader) of Zvirtche proposed
establishing religious schools for girls. He was shouted down and his proposal was almost
unanimously defeated. The arguments used against him were of the sort that maintained that "My
grandmother never went to school, so why should my daughter go to school?"
It took fourteen more years, a World War and a dedicated and courageous young seamstress
from Krakow to change the picture and find a solution to the problem. Sara Schenirer had lived
in Vienna briefly during the War and been exposed there to the disciples of Hirsch. Upon her
return to Poland, she founded a women's educational movement known as Bais Ya'akov ("the
House of Jacob.17") Not only did this movement grow rapidly throughout the Jewish world, but it
17
This was a traditional Midrashic term for Jewish women —see Rashi's commentary on Exodus 19:3.
6
also spawned many imitations. By the 1920's, Jewish education for girls had become a value
espoused by all the Jewish movements, even the ultra-Orthodox, and not because of any laws of
compulsory education. It was, simply put, an idea whose time had come—born out of social and
economic necessity. 18
Within the ultra-Orthodox world, to this day, the separate schools are not necessarily equal.
There still exists a cultural gap between the girls, who receive a more substantial secular
education, and the boys, who focus almost exclusively on classical texts and laws. But in the rest
of the Jewish community, especially in the last quarter of the 20th century, there has been a
significant growth in Jewish educational opportunities for girls and women. In some
communities, almost full equality of opportunity has been achieved. In today's Jewish
community, there is still some gender inequality with regard to Jewish education. Unfortunately,
in many segments of the community, both boys and girls are equally uneducated, or inadequately
educated. In the more traditional circles, it was really only during the last quarter of the 20th
century that girls' education became a priority. Jewish women have quite a bit of "catching up" to
do in order to be on a fully equal footing with their male counterparts.
An outstanding young educator in Jerusalem named Yael Unterman19 has written the following:
Being treated as intellectual equals by their father was a formative experience for several unusual
women. In some cases, like that of Henrietta Szold,20 this occurred in the absence of male
children and was therefore perhaps more of a default; in others, such as in the Leibowitz home21,
it was more a matter of principle or culture. A leading contemporary female Torah scholar,
Aviva Zornberg22, was also taught intensively by her father, her most important teacher.
18
For more on this topic, see: Weissman, “Bais Ya'akov as an Innovation in Jewish Women’s Education: A
Contribution to the Study of Education and Social Change,” in Walter Ackerman (editor), Studies in Jewish
Education Vol. VII, Hebrew University (1995).
19
See:Unterman, Nehama Leibowitz: Teacher and Bible Scholar,Urim Publications: Jerusalem, 2009, esp. pp. 269-
307.
20
1860-1945, b. US, immigrated to Israel, founder of Hadassah, Zionist leader and thinker.
Latvian Jewish home that produced two of the 20 th century's outstanding Jews: Nechama Leibowitz, 1905-1997,
great Bible teacher, and her brother, philosopher-scientist Yeshayau. Leibowitz, 1903-1994.
22
b. Scotland sometime in the 1940's, immigrated to Israel, world-renowned teacher and author.
21
7
The late feminist scholar and educator Chana Safrai (1946-2008) once said, "Behind every
feminist of my generation is a feminist father." 23She was also talking about herself, her father
having been a great Talmudist at the Hebrew University.
4) In our study of Jewish history and tradition, we should pick out role models from the
past. These can be outstanding women or creative interpretations of sources. In this
section, I would like to point out two or three examples, in addition to what we have
already mentioned. If we mistakenly assume that opposition to sexist stereotyping is
only a contemporary phenomenon, we have the example of Bruriah in the Talmud to
help us understand that this opposition has a rather long history. In at least two cases
mentioned in our sources, Bruriah mocks the rabbinic dicta that make light of women
and our intellectual capabilities.
A medieval Spanish commentator focused his attention on Genesis 30:1-2, when the barren
wife Rachel, envious of her prolific sister Leah, cries out to her husband Jacob, “Give me
children, or else I die,” sometimes interpreted as, “or I might as well be dead.” Jacob
becomes angry. The reasons for his wrath are not readily apparent. After all, when a similar
situation arose in I Samuel 1: 8, Elkana had tried to comfort his barren wife, Chana, by
saying, "am I not better for you than ten sons?" Jacob did not try to console Rachel, but
rather became angry with her. The piece in question is the explanation by 14th century
Spanish Rabbi Isaac Arama (known through the name of his major work as the Akedat
Yitzhak.)
Arama suggests the following:
The two names “woman” and “Eve” indicate two purposes. The first name [in Hebrew
Isha, similar to the word for “man,” Ish] teaches that woman was taken from man,
stressing that like him you may understand and advance in the intellectual and moral field
just as did the matriarchs and many righteous women and prophetesses and as the literal
meaning of Proverbs 31 about “the woman of worth [valor]” indicates. The second
alludes to the power of childbearing and rearing children, as is indicated by the name Eve
– the mother of all living. A woman deprived of the power of childbearing will be
deprived of the secondary purpose and be left with the ability to do evil or good like the
23
As quoted in Naomi G. Cohen, "In Memoriam: Chana Safrai (1946-2008), Friend and Colleague," NASHIM No.
15, Spring 2008, p. 197.
8
man who is barren. Of both the barren man and woman Isaiah (56,5) states: “I have given
them in My house and in My walls a name that is better sons and daughters,” since the
offspring of the righteous is certainly good deeds…Jacob was therefore angry with
Rachel when she said, “Give me children or else I die,” in order to reprimand her and
make her understand this all-important principle that she was not dead as far as their joint
purpose in life because she was childless, just the same as it would be, in his case, if he
would have been childless.24
I would like to suggest that this is most likely not the simple meaning of the Biblical text.
I believe that Jacob became angry with Rachel as a form of psychological displacement.
In other words, he was distraught at not having progeny with his beloved wife and rather
than directing the anger at himself or at God, he directed it at her. Nevertheless, if we
keep in mind that this interpretation was offered by a rabbi who lived almost seven
hundred years ago, it appears to be remarkably progressive and even contemporary.
Another well-known example is that of Henrietta Szold, an important Jewish leader of the
late 19th and early 20th centuries. Szold was the eldest in a family of eight daughters. In
many Jewish communities, the custom had been for the Kaddish, the mourner’s prayer, to
be recited only by sons and not by daughters. When Szold’s beloved mother died, a
family friend offered to recite the Kaddish. She wrote him the following letter:
"It is impossible for me to find words to tell you how deeply I was touched by your offer
to act as "Kaddish" for my dear mother. I cannot even thank you—it is something that
goes beyond thanks. It is beautiful, what you have offered to do—I shall never forget it.
You will wonder, then, that I cannot accept your offer. Perhaps it would be best for me
not to try to explain to you in writing, but to wait until I see you to tell you why it is so. I
know well, and appreciate what you say about, the Jewish custom; and Jewish custom is
very dear and sacred to me. And yet I cannot ask you to say Kaddish after my mother.
The Kaddish means to me that the survivor publicly and markedly manifests his wish and
intention to assume the relation to the Jewish community which his parent had, and that
so the chain of tradition remains unbroken from generation to generation, each adding its
own link. You can do that for the generations of your family, I must do that for the
generations of my family.
I believe that the elimination of women from such duties was never intended by our law
and custom—women were freed from positive duties when they could not perform them,
but not when they could. It was never intended that, if they could perform them, their
performance of them should not be considered as valuable and valid as when one of the
male sex performed them. And of the Kaddish I feel this is particularly true.
24
Nechama Leibowitz, Studies in Bereshit (Genesis), World Zionist Organization Dept. for Torah Education and
Culture: Jerusalem, 1986, p.334
9
My mother had eight daughters and no son; and yet never did I hear a word of regret pass
the lips of either my mother or my father that one of us was not a son. When my father
died, my mother would not permit others to take her daughters' place in saying the
Kaddish, and so I am sure I am acting in her spirit when I am moved to decline your
offer. But beautiful your offer remains nevertheless, and, I repeat, I know full well that it
is much more in consonance with the generally accepted Jewish tradition than is my or
my family's conception. You understand me, don't you?"25
What a gracious and respectful way in which to educate and to lead in the direction of social
change. I would simply add that although respect and graciousness are important qualities, so are
having the courage of one's convictions and the ability to dissent from custom and even
normative practice, when deemed necessary.
We must recognize that there have been very promising changes in the last 40 years,
during which there has been an active Jewish religious feminist movement. Certainly
great strides have been since the late 1960’s or early 1970’s, in the Orthodox,
Conservative, Reform and Reconstructionist movements within Judaism. At first, the
main issues under consideration were those of law and leadership; by the 1990’s,
issues of theology and liturgy had moved into prominence.
The great challenge, I believe, is to recognize equality-within-difference. >From my
perspective, the non-Orthodox movements have often legislated equality-throughsameness. In other words, there are no longer any differences whatsoever between the
religious expressions of men and women. It appears that the fastest growing
“denomination” is “traditional egalitarian.” I believe this sometimes can become
carried to an extreme, when, for example, girls have a Bat Mitzvah at 13, because that
is when boys have a Bar Mitzvah. The non-Orthodox practice of doing the Bat
Mitzvah at 13 ignores the blatant differences between the physical growth rates and
patterns of the two sexes.
For a girl, traditionally, the comparable age is 12. The reason for the difference is obvious, if one
simply looks at a group of 12-year-old boys and girls. On the average, the girls of this age are
already young women, while the boys are still boys. Within a year, many of the boys have begun
to catch up. With physical maturity comes religious responsibility.
25
Ellen M. Umansky and Diane Ashton (eds.), Four Centuries of Jewish Women's Spirituality: A Sourcebook,
Beacon Press: Boston, 1992, pp. 164-5.
10
Within the modern Orthodox movement, there is a growing feminist movement, both in Israel
(represented by Kolech, the Forum for Religious Women) and the Diaspora, particularly North
America (represented by the Jewish Orthodox Feminist Alliance.) There are a number of
congregations on the fringes of modern Orthodoxy, both in Israel and abroad, which have been
experimenting with women leading certain parts of the traditional service or reading Torah
together with men. However, for a combination of Halachic and feminist-ideological reasons,
most of the modern Orthodox feminists have gone in the direction of “separate but equal”—
women’s Tefilla groups, separate women’s Torah reading, Rosh Chodesh groups, women’s
midrashot, and so on. I don’t believe in total separatism, but I do think that men and women
together should explore different models that exemplify equal value within the recognition of
possible differences. Women must be centrally involved in the decision-making process. No
longer can or should men dictate to women what the differences might be or how they should be
expressed.
A young Orthodox feminist scholar in New York expressed this view beautifully, I believe, in
considering the use of feminine images of the Divine, for example, in the portrayal of the
Shabbat as a bride or queen.
Although a close reading of these texts demonstrate that the traditional gendering of Shabbat’s
persona serves primarily to reinforce a passive model of femaleness, which may be disappointing
to those seeking paradigms of agency, the concurrent association of femininity with reverence,
majesty and adulation is surely of some value to contemporary feminists… At the very least, the
celebration of femininity as an attribute of God and its positive association with passion,
intimacy and connection, might encourage new avenues of spiritual expression for women and
men alike. Passivity and acceptance are not in and of themselves negative traits; indeed, the
feminine gendering of Shabbat was undoubtedly an attempt to convey the serenity of the seventh
day, in contrast to the turmoil of the work week. Gender roles are problematic when they are
binding, but the availability of alternate paradigms of being may prove liberating for
all…Rereading old texts in a new light should not delude us as to their original intent, but as it
has in the past, tradition may yet prove rich enough and resilient enough to sustain inventive and
contemporary interpretations.26
5) Finally, what are we to do with the negative texts, that do not seem to admit of any
positive re-interpretation? The first thing of course is to admit their existence. I would
like to make reference to the work of a great Bible scholar and teacher from the Hebrew
Rachel Furst, “Come, O Bride, the Sabbath Queen”: Decoding the Feminine Imagery of Shabbat, in JOFA
Journal, Vol. 8, No. 4, Spring 2009, p. 31.
26
11
University, Professor Moshe Greenberg. Greenberg was the first Israeli male Bible
professor I know of who took a deep interest in feminist scholarship and adapted his
syllabi to include feminist perspectives. He was also one of the founders of an interfaith
dialogue group in Jerusalem known as the Rainbow, of which I am a member. Several
years ago, the theme for the group’s discussions was “Embarrassing Texts in our
Respective Religious Traditions.” Greenberg opened the year’s discussions with an
outstanding presentation on the embarrassing texts in the Jewish tradition that relate to
non- Jews in a negative light. I would venture a generalization that all of our traditions
include certain texts we’d rather they didn’t.
So, what are we to do with them? Greenberg himself has suggested, "Even the choicest vine
needs seasonal pruning to ensure more fruitful growth."27 We can bracket them historically,
balance them with alternate texts, emphasize others at their expense—but, ultimately, we must
also admit that they do exist within our cherished traditions. Jewish educators must invest time
and effort in developing ways of dealing with the problematic texts of the Biblical, Rabbinic and
later, traditions—those that humiliate or insult women. We can not change the way Jewish
women were perceived and the way they lived in the past—but we must change the way they
live in the future. This can be done only through contextualizing the past and giving students a
way of coping with its difficulties. Changing Jewish education in a direction more sensitive to
feminist issues must involve the men as well as the women; the boys as well as the girls. Much
more work must be done in rabbinic preparation and in teacher education—both pre-service and
in-service training—in order to deal with this challenge.
In conclusion: a verse in Isaiah28 states, “…and all they children shall be learned of the Lord and
great shall be the peace of thy children.” A rabbinic Midrash on this comments, “Do not read it
banayich, thy children; read it bonayich, thy builders.” Israeli psychologist Professor Mordecai
Rotenberg29 added his own gloss on the Midrash: Children are the heirs to the past. Their task is
to receive the tradition from their parents. But “builders” implies that they take the tradition and
build upon it, molding and shaping it for the future.
27
As quoted in Seymour Fox, Israel Schefler, Daniel Marom (eds.), Visions of Jewish Education, Cambridge
University Press: Cambridge, 2003, p. 145.
28
54:13
29
At the annual Israel Prize ceremony on April 29, 2009, in Jerusalem.
12
I would say that we are builders and renovators, constantly renewing and re-shaping our
traditions.
Dr. Deborah Weissman
Jerusalem, May 2009
13