I’m now reading Dani Shapiro’s memoir, Devotion. Shapiro grew up in an Orthodox family, but left religion behind long ago. It was the harshness of life that compelled her, as an adult, to explore anew the world of spirituality generally and Judaism specifically. 9/11 brought a new anxiety into her life: How can one live with global uncertainty? Giving birth to a sick child (now recovered) brought pain into her life: How can one cope with fear and anticipation of loss? Together these questions–inescapably collective and tragically personal–sent her exploring spiritual pathways for sitting with the deep instability at the core of human experience.

The stories of these two women represent to me two places that the spiritual quest can begin: in wonder and in fear. They also represent two modalities of engaging spirituality: through mystical intuition and through raw vulnerability. Impelled from within or compelled from without, these women opened themselves up to the vastness of the Jewish tradition and there they found inklings of a Godly voice waiting to meet them.

Though these stories come from beyond the Orthodox world, they remind all of us that we might ask for more out of our religious lives: not just to orient our behaviors, but to guide us toward a more reflective and more grounded existence. My hope is that women of all stripes can bring this awareness back into the center of our Jewish world.

So, I started down the path of leading questions: why do you think God has a wife? Is God really like our parent?  Somehow, we even got to the “Sabbath queen” (who, in our Disney-themed mad house, has a tribe of Sabbath princesses too!)  But, for all the provocative questions, I understood my daughter’s instinctive query.

I will admit that I initially had a moment of wondering whether her progressive upbringing was all for naught. Why, after all, didn’t she ask, “Who is God’s husband”?  Though I understand that  ”Who is God’s husband” is not a question any of us tend to ask. Because once a child – or adult – has gone beyond God as corporeal, turning God into a woman just doesn’t resonate, no matter what our feminist inclinations might be. (Or was the question, in fact, super-progressive, because it assumed that God had to include the female?  Any kabbalists out there with a view?)

I also realized, a bit sadly, that this conversation about God’s wife was a rare moment for me. To actually ponder the nature of God.  We were not talking about whether women can leyn in shul, or how to arrange a mechitza to be more equitable, or any of the countless important conversations on how to make Orthodoxy more progressive.  At times I wonder if all the working for change has made me forget about the spiritual urge that encouraged the progressive activism in the first place.

So, despite the fact that I am not prone to ponder God, and, as co-chair of the conference programming committee, I was instinctively more drawn to sessions on leadership, scholarship and social justice, I now find myself – as the conference approaches – eager to attend some of

the spirituality sessions at the conference and ponder together, with, among others, Tamar Ross,  R. Mimi Feigelson and  Nessa Rapaport.  Whether or not, we will answer the question of “who is God’s wife?” is yet unknown.

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