The Orthodox Union (OU) recently issued a statement noting that it is “improper” and “an unacceptable breach of Jewish tradition” for a woman to lead Kabbalat Shabbat before a congregation of men and women. The OU did not offer halakhic justification for their position. Rather, the fact that this is a new practice was deemed sufficient to disqualify its use. As Orthodox feminists, committed to halakha, we find this statement troubling.
As you will see from the article below, written by Dr. Debby Koren, there are persuasive halakhic arguments to permit this practice. There are also numerous examples in our history of both new practices and new prohibitions being introduced and old customs being abandoned or adapted to address new circumstances. A major strength and beauty of the halakhic process is that it offers the flexibility to incorporate innovation as long as it is in accord with the legal requirements.

Some find the notion of innovation as it relates to the expansion of women’s ritual role in Jewish life to be so unsettling that all change is barred, even if it is clearly permitted by halakha. But this is neither appropriate nor honest. Please study the accompanying analysis, which we are certain will help you understand our position. Our hope is that you will become educated about the issue and share your thoughts with your community. We recognize that “one size fits all” is not appropriate for every Orthodox community, and some may legitimately decide that they are not ready for an innovation of this nature. But, for those who are, we hope this gives you the strength to experience a tefillah that integrates women to the full extent possible while remaining true to halakha.

Women Leading Kabbalat Shabbat with Men Present
Dr. Debby Koren

Introduction
     The custom of Kabbalat Shabbat was initiated in the middle of the sixteenth century by the kabbalists in Safad. Unlike many of our other prayers, it is a relatively modern development. Therefore, the question of whether women can lead the Kabbalat Shabbat service for both men and women requires analysis quite different from that of other t’fillot. Thus it was disquieting to see a recent statement issued by the Orthodox Union as to the impropriety of a woman leading Kabbalat Shabbat when men are present, and interesting to note that the statement did not include any halakhic discussion or analysis.
     What are the possible reasons that it would be considered improper for a woman to lead Kabbalat Shabbat services with men present, and for such a practice (in the words of the Orthodox Union) to “constitute an unacceptable breach of Jewish tradition”? We address a number of possible concerns below.

Custom
     There is a certain irony in claiming, as the OU did, that a lack of precedent for women leading Kabbalat Shabbat is precisely what makes it improper. If precedent were required for every innovation in Jewish practice, even more specifically, innovation in the synagogue, then this discussion would be moot. Even Kabbalat Shabbat itself had no precedent as a part of synagogue liturgy, and yet has become part of weekly t’filla.
     Our rabbinic literature is replete with cases of customs that have changed over the centuries, whether new prohibitions and stringencies have been introduced – or whether old customs have been abandoned or adapted to new circumstances. Space limitations permit presentation of just one excellent example – that of mourner’s kaddish. (See JOFA Journal, Spring 2008,”If They are Not Prophets, Then They are the Children of Prophets”) Like Kabbalat Shabbat, mourner’s kaddish was not always part of our liturgical service, and it is merely a custom. The only possible Talmudic precedent that could be suggested for it – applying a lot of creativity – is the statement that a son can bring credit to his father (Kiddushin 104a). The customs surrounding the kaddish have changed radically over time (how many times it is said, who says it, whether it is said in unison). The most recent development in the custom of mourner’s kaddish, is the growing number of women who choose to say it and the growing number of Modern Orthodox communities in which this has become acceptable.

Concerns of Fulfilling the Obligation of Individuals on Their Behalf
     It is a well-known principle of Jewish law that certain (but not all) personal obligations can be fulfilled on behalf of someone else, but only if the one performing the obligation has at least the same level of obligation as the one on whose behalf it is being performed. (Mishna Rosh HaShana 3:8) Therefore, given the fact that we know that women’s obligations are sometimes not identical to men’s obligations, one might ask if any such issue arises in the case of a woman leading Kabbalat Shabbat services. However, because there is no personal obligation in Kabbalat Shabbat, there is no issue of a leader fulfilling an obligation on behalf of others.
     As stated in the opening paragraph, Kabbalat Shabbat is a custom that originated in Safad and then spread to Jewish communities all over the world. However, it is not obligatory, and, in fact, because of the non-obligatory nature of Kabbalat Shabbat, there are some congregations that make distinctions between Kabbalat Shabbat and all other tefillot, such as having the leader stand at the bima (where the Torah is read) rather than at the amud (from where prayers are led). And, most tellingly for our analysis, in many congregations, it is common to have a minor lead Kabbalat Shabbat. Thus, there need be no examination of a woman’s obligation in Kabbalat Shabbat and whether it is the same as a man’s obligation. It is the same — because there is none. Furthermore, we know that a woman’s obligations relating to Shabbat are identical to a man’s, which is why she is obligated in kiddush. (B’rakhot 20b)

Kol B’Isha Erva
     Needless to say, Kabbalat Shabbat can technically be led without singing or chanting. However, given the almost universal custom to sing parts of the t’filla, we briefly address the issue of kol isha below. In Masekhet B’rakhot we read Sh’muel’s declaration that the voice of a woman is erva (perhaps nakedness, lewdness, sexual impropriety). Various interpretations are offered by the rishonim, resulting in a dispute among them, some of whom maintain that there is a general prohibition for a man to hear a woman’s voice and some of whom maintain that the prohibition applies specifically to recitation of sh’ma (and perhaps t’filla, the silent prayer).
     Opinions also vary as to whether the prohibition refers to any voice, or particularly a singing voice, whether the prohibition applies to any type of song, or only to sexually suggestive songs, and so forth. This brief statement cannot possibly cover the various interpretations and halakhic conclusions that resulted from Sh’muel’s statement. However, we can state that the practical result is that within the Orthodox world there is a spectrum of attitudes and practices regarding the concern of kol isha.
     Therefore, it becomes clear that whether kol isha would be a concern, in particular regarding Kabbalat Shabbat, depends upon the community in which such a service would be held. A community that has accepted Rabbi Yehi’el Weinberg’s approach (S’ridei Esh 1:77), and many Modern Orthodox communities fall into this category, whereby religious hymns do not inspire licentious thoughts, should not be uncomfortable with women leading Kabbalat Shabbat. The S’ridei Esh stated that “whatever one does not do in a manner of affection but is only done for the cause of Heaven is permitted.” The S’ridei Esh cited the S’de Hemed (Ma’arekhet HaKuf 42 IV:485), who cited in the name of R. Aharon De Toledo (Divrei Hefetz, Salonika 1798 p. 113b), that it is permitted for men and women to sing z’mirot together, “because there is no suspicion of sinful thoughts with hymns.” One might argue that this reasoning only applies to men and women singing together, but in fact R. Aharon De Toledo wrote is that as long as a woman is not singing sensual love songs, and as long as a man does not intend to derive pleasure from her voice, there is no prohibition, such as if she is singing praises to God for a miracle, or is singing a lullaby to a baby, or is wailing at a funeral.
     To augment this approach, let us also consider R. Ovadia Yosef’s explanation as to why it is permissible for a woman to recite birkat ha-gomel in a minyan of men (Y’have Da’at 4:15). R. Yosef brings several proofs that kol isha is not of concern where there is trepidation before the Sh’khina. Lest one think that his statement only applies to a speaking voice and not to a singing voice, it should be pointed out that among his proofs regarding birkat ha-gomel are the reading of the m’gilla or the Torah with trope, the former being permitted, in his opinion, for women to fulfill the obligation for men; the latter being permitted, in his opinion, under extenuating circumstances, and only forbidden because of the dignity of the congregation, but not because of singing of the trope.
     This, of course, is not to imply that we can conclude that R. Yosef would be in favor of women leading Kabbalat Shabbat (or that it would be his preference for women to read m’gilla for men), but rather that he would need to have another reason to disapprove of such activities.

Modesty: Kol K’vuda Bat Melekh P’nima [All the princess’s belongings should be led within]
     Though the above fragment of a verse from Psalms (45:14) is frequently used to anchor the position that Jewish women are to avoid appearing in public or to take public positions, that is certainly not the literal translation of the verse, which is that the princess enters (her palace) accompanied by all of her possessions. In Psalm 45 it is likely that the princess referred to was Gentile, who was taken as a wife by an Israelite king. Literal or not, this model of modest behavior for Jewish women has been held as an ideal, though examination of our sources and history makes it clear that Jewish women were out and about in the market place, by the river, in the beit midrash, in court, etc.
     A Jewish woman’s place in public roles is subject to community norms. In Maimonides’ community, where women rarely ventured out, it might have been acceptable to limit their appearance in public. Today, in Modern Orthodox communities, people are accustomed to seeing women, including observant Jewish women, in all sorts of professions in public. We have become accustomed to women giving divrei Torah in synagogues, serving as principals of schools, teaching groups of men and women, and more. We cannot pretend that the concept of women’s public roles has remained constant throughout the centuries. Leading Kabbalat Shabbat would not make a woman any more “public”.

Looking Reform/Conservative
     A common argument that is used when there is no specific halakhic justification for forbidding an innovation is that it is similar to a Reform (or Conservative) practice. Inherent in this argument is the fear that if we do something like they do, then the level of observance of actual halakha in our communities will deteriorate. To ascertain whether there is any truth to this fear, there needs to be a serious analysis, beyond the scope of this piece, of cause and effect in religious observance, particularly during the historical period of the enlightenment and the emancipation of Jews.
     In this brief discourse, it is worth pointing out that some of the innovations of the Reform and Conservative communities that were prohibited, often with extreme vehemence, in the Orthodox community have become, over time, the norm. Among these are sermons in the vernacular, celebration of the bat mitzvah, and in the case of mourner’s kaddish, reciting kaddish in unison (in Ashkenazic communities; it was always the norm in Sephardic communities).

Slippery slope
     Another commonly used public policy concern is that of the “slippery slope”. Though, technically, something may not be halakhically forbidden, the argument is put forward that if it were permitted it might lead to other actually forbidden acts. This type of argument actually is sometimes used in the Talmud, using the term atu, meaning “on account of.” To protect against a transgression, sometimes the Sages would decree a rule as a matter of public policy. One example is the prohibition to drink Gentiles’ beer (Avoda Zara 31b), which was expanded by the Rabbis to encompass even those types of Gentile beer that technically need not be forbidden.
     A recently learned page in the daf yomi cycle (Avoda Zara 64a) provides an example of the Sages being concerned with a slippery slope in another direction. In spite of the serious prohibition of deriving any benefit from objects of pagan worship or from yeyn nesekh (wine that could have been tainted with pagan libation), the g’mara cites a mishna (D’mai 6:10) which states that if a convert to Judaism and his Gentile brother inherit property from their Gentile father, the convert can say to his brother: “You take the pagan objects, and I’ll take the money” or “You take the yeyn nesekh and I’ll take the crops.” Though the convert derives benefit from forbidden objects in this manner (space does not permit elaboration of how, but see the discussion surrounding Avoda Zara 64a), Rav Papa explains that a convert’s inheritance is different; the Sages were lenient and decreed that a convert is permitted to make such an arrangement, lest he return to his Gentile ways in order to acquire the inheritance.
     A lesson can be learned from this latter example. Slippery slopes can slide in many directions, and at times certain halakhic stands must be taken to keep Jews engaged and committed. In considering the situation of women leading Kabbalat Shabbat in a mixed communal setting, would prohibiting it drive some women out? Would permitting it bring more women into the synagogue? Clearly, in some communities, these are valid concerns, and we hope this article will be a springboard for fruitful dialogue regarding the issue, a dialogue informed by halakha and a desire to ensure that all of K’lal Yisrael, men and women alike, is welcome within our community.

In screening films for JOFA’s upcoming Film Festival, I watched many films that are conversation-starters. While some of the films are mostly for fun (a great one about going on a wrong blind date), many prompt deeper questions that leave you talking long after the credits have rolled. I continue to think about the following two issues:

How do we negotiate between our personal needs and halakhic mandates? More specifically, would you do something that you know will make you absolutely miserable because some interpret the halakha to say you must? Could we not find an interpretation in order to spare someone suffering? Would such an interpretation be more available with more women serving as halakhic decisors? In watching the movie Shira, in which a woman has five daughters and wants to wait before having another child, but her husband says no, I was left wondering. Would a woman trying to advise her have better understood her suffering? I was moved by her suffering, her husband does not seem to understand it.

What is the best approach to making change in our communities- from within or from without? In a powerful film about a woman seeking change in a mosque, I saw many parallels to life in Orthodox synagogues (balconies for women, attire expectations, etc.). How do we make our communities great places for women? I have been interested for a long time in synagogue change and creating welcoming communities, and this film pushes me to think about how Orthodox synagogues can help women feel that the synagogue is ours too. Especially as we watch the activity across an often-high mechitza.

 This past Shabbat, a young woman volunteered to deliver one of the weekly text studies in our shul. In honor of Tu Bishvat, she led us through sources she had studied about the significance of trees in Torah and midrash. Six months ago she had celebrated her Bat Mitzvah with a women’s tefilah service and by delivering a drash. We were all amazed by her poise during that celebration, and we were proud of the openness of our community to some innovation. But this past Shabbat was particularly moving for me. Beyond creating an inclusive and empowering lifecycle moment for this young woman and her family six months ago, this past week, our community proclaimed that her voice was welcome and that her ideas deserved a platform. I smiled, watching her confidently share her thoughts, and seeing the younger girls look up to her, maybe envisioning themselves in her place one day.

While there are times when I wish my community could be more progressive in terms of ritual inclusion, I am aware that in small Jewish communities, even progressive Orthodox synagogues must often serve a broad spectrum of Jews. In many of these communities, where maintaining and strengthening unity is of vital importance, ritual innovation is not the be all and end all of feminism. Our challenge is to find ways, beyond ritual inclusion, to welcome women’s voices, scholarship and leadership and to convey to young women, and to all who attend our synagogues, that everyone truly counts. 

For so many years I felt all alone with my feelings. Sitting in balconies watching the services go on below as if I were a spectator at the event instead of part of it.

I listened to rabbis give their sermons and for the most part felt excluded. I remember in particular one time when the rabbi stood up in the pulpit and said: How can you tell who is a Jew?

And he answered: By bris milah and teffilin. My teenage daughter turned to me and said: I guess I’m not a Jew!

I had more awful experiences saying kaddish than positive ones.  But the positive ones showed me that little by little my Jewish world was changing. I also felt the change at my granddaughter’s bat mitzvah this year. I did not have one. For my eldest daughter I had to fight so hard that at one point I hung up the phone on the rabbi. My great-niece did a siyyum 9 years ago but was not allowed to say kaddish.

My granddaughter learned for almost 2 years, made a siyyum and said kaddish.

So little by little. With the help of JOFA and like-minded men and women we will move forward. And that gives me the chizuk to continue.

The upcoming JOFA conference invites people to Join the Conversation.  And it’s an important time to do just that.  In some ways, we are in an unprecedented time of opportunity for Orthodox women, and by extension, for Orthodox men.  We can see partnership minyanim starting up around the world, and with them, true chances for women to participate equally in communal tefilla, and we see women rising to new heights in ritual, rabbinic and communal leadership.  We are raising daughters and sons who see opportunities for girls and women where they never existed and we have started to explore deeply personal topics, like sexuality and sexual orientation, previously hidden behind closed doors.  Yet, with these developments, we have to continue to talk to one another about what these developments mean in terms of our relationship with the larger community and with ourselves, and we have to talk about who we have included and who we have excluded through these changes.
  
I myself always wonder whether more doors have been opened than closed through JOFA’s embrace of changes like partnership minyanim and women in rabbinic roles.  Have we made Orthodox feminism more inclusive or exclusive?  I wonder what the value is of change that does not fully extend into the suburbs and smaller communities and I wonder whether we are getting our message out if with each development, we run the risk that fewer people will be willing to listen. Do we stop moving so that others can catch up or in doing so, will we lose those who desperately need to keep moving? How often do we need to check the pulse of the larger Orthodox community when that community seems to move increasingly to the right with every passing day?  Yet, if we don’t check that pulse and question whether we are in time, don’t we chance separating from that community altogether.
  
Conversation brings with it a dynamic, exciting energy and Orthodox feminism needs that energy.  We need a conversation between men and women, between older and younger thinkers, between those who embrace the changes and those who reject them.  We need to identify the topics that are in need of conversation – the personal and the communal and all those in between, and we need to reach deep down within ourselves to find the words that we must exchange.  We each need to Join the Conversation and I look forward to the opportunity to do so.

When my daughter was about 3 years old, we visited a shul where the men broke into joyous song and danced around the bimah during tefillah. She stood on her chair, clapping and swaying and suddenly turned to me and shouted, “I don’t want to be a ballerina any more! I want to be a rabbi!” Years later, when we planned her bat mitzvah, she insisted she wanted to read her entire parsha and haftarah, even though it was far from the social norm in her day school and there was no minyan in our neighborhood to accommodate her.  

Now, at 15, my daughter is vaguely indifferent about issues of Jewish feminism. She comes to the partnership minyan we started (at her urging!) but has to be coaxed into leading pesukei dizimarah  and reading Torah. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t want to be associated with a cause her parents have championed. Or maybe it’s because she goes to a Modern Orthodox school where there are few opportunities for girls to take leadership roles in tefillah. As a result, her peers are largely uninterested in taking on more responsibility in a minyan, fighting inequities or eliminating double standards. The status quo is comfortable and most teenagers don’t want take an unpopular stance alone. That’s why, as a co-chairwoman of the programming committee for this year’s conference, I believe our middle school track and sessions geared to high school students will be a great opportunity for teens to discuss, among other issues, what they believe and how their actions are shaped by peer pressure. Who knows? Maybe my daughter will wander in and be inspired. I hope so because she’d make a great rabbi. Besides, she hasn’t practiced her pirouettes in some time.

I have attended each one of JOFA’s conferences, both as a presenter and a participant. The earliest years were heady, deeply meaningful and exciting. We were thrilled to meet other like minded women, feminists who identified as Orthodox women. We spoke with great earnestness and openness about our spiritual, religious and institutional struggles.

And over the past 15 years we’ve made considerable progress. As Batsheva said in her post – her daughter had a bat-mitzvah similar to her brothers’ bar-mitzvha. Partnership minyanim are born at an alarmingly quick pace. The Maharat program has a beginning class. Even popular Israeli TV has women reciting Kiddush on Friday night. (S’rugim)

In the face of those gains, we need to find new inner resources to keep us energized for the future. I’m pleased that the focus of our next conference is to have multiple conversations. Each of us brings to the conference another set of interests. I’m particularly looking forward to the conversations on maintaining and enhancing spirituality in our modern lives. 

I look forward to seeing old and new faces.

At the second JOFA conference I gave the closing speech. It began with “Six weeks ago I a gave birth to a daughter. She came into a world so very different from the one I came into.” And she did. A few weeks ago, that daughter celebrated her bat mitzvah. The bat mitzvah she celebrated was so very different from the one I did, 36 years ago. She leined the parsha and the haftorah at a partnership minyan. I had an aliya. She wore a tallit. She completed seder nezikim and made a siyyum.   My “bat mitzvah” was a picnic lunch with three friends.

Actually, her bat mitzvah looked an awful lot like my brothers’ bar mitzvahs.

What a different world we inhabit today. And how lucky she is – to make her way in this “whole new world” of incredible opportunity for girls and women.   Of course, she and her peers will still have their own challenges ahead of them.  I often wonder how she will react when she hits her own  “brick walls,” but something tells me that she will be okay. We’ve given these girls the strength and confidence and learning they need. We’ve given them the tools to make their own way through the complicated labyrinth we call Orthodox Judaism. They’ll create their own pathways… and then perhaps we’ll be the ones to follow.

My main take-away messages from the four JOFA conferences I have attended are:

1. The excitement and energy of people grappling with issues and questions that they normally don’t deal with

2. The depth and breadth of knowledge that’s available

3. The new people you meet and fantastic conversations you enjoy and can eavesdrop on

4. The common sense that each person no longer feels alone

So, my job as Conference Chair is to keep this dynamic spirit going while making sure that we not only welcome our regular attendees but that  we continue to add new people — young, old, female, male, more and less observant — and that everyone  feels empowered and excited  to join  the conversation!

So, what are we talking about? How do we, both as individuals and as a community, increase the participation of women in ritual and life cycle events?  What rituals have traditionally been male oriented but halakhically can be open to women?   Does opening ritual to women weaken the affiliation of the core? Does inclusion strengthen the community? If so, how?  Should women create their own rituals? How do you do it?  What has been your most meaningful ritual or life cycle moment?

What does social justice mean to an Orthodox Jew?  Is it a religious value in our community? If so, has it been overshadowed by attention to details of ritual?  Should we be concerned about issues like human trafficking?  Do inhumane animal care practices matter to our concept of kashrut? Will a social justice perspective help identify new partners and rationales to create solutions for agunot?

What will be the future of women’s leadership in Orthodoxy?  Is women’s halakhic leadership a viable model? How can it be fostered? What will it mean for the community?  How do we make sure that communal non-Rabbinic leadership positions are afforded the same respect and compensation as Rabbis? How do we balance advances in learning with leadership?  Should your daughter ‘s dreams be different than your son’s?

Do religion, halachah and spirituality go hand in hand? Why do our Modern Orthodox lives often seem very busy yet spiritually lacking?  How do we find and carve out space to communicate to God more regularly?  How do we make tefillah (more) meaningful? How does spirituality in a 21^st C context differ from previous generations? How do you express your own spirituality?

These are some of the issues I think about and topics we plan to talk about at the conference.  But, don’t wait for the conference to join the conversation.  Ask your own questions in this space or help answer some of mine.

Let’s get the conversation started!

Audrey Axelrod Trachtman