When I was little, among my favorite stories to be read was one about the lovably eccentric Ernie and his uptight roommate Bert. In this particular book, Ernie goes about placing contents in all the wrong containers, e.g. the goldfish in the vase, the flowers in the cookie jar, the cookies in a baseball cap and so on (I can't remember exactly why, maybe the first one broke?) and Bert nearly has a nervous breakdown over it. The reason it was one of my favorites was entirely because of how my mom read it, with hilarious voices and exaggerated reactions. (Happy Mother's Day, Mom!)
Even the most spontaneous and adventurous of us must admit that we all benefit from order. In that childhood story, Ernie found places for all of his objects that technically worked. The problem, as Bert was trying to point out in between popping Xanax, was that he had now started a never-ending chain of disorder--by utilizing a cookie jar as a vase, not only was the original purpose of the objects losing meaning but it was going to make their lives more difficult when they wanted a cookie and had no idea where to find it.
I currently find myself in the minority at my synagogue, where the two designated leaders (male and female) are arguing for women as Rabbis. And boy do I feel it--no room for difference of opinion here. Apparently, I am fifty shades of wrong, backwards, oppressed, you name it. But I will not be bullied into silence. I hope that anyone who reads this will carefully consider my arguments and walk away with a greater understanding of why I and others oppose the ordination of women, rather than demonize me, the RCA, or anyone else.
First off, I've said it before and I'll say it again: equating empowerment with imitating men is a huge mistake. Let's go all the way back to our spiritual ancestors, Abraham and Sarah. Abraham was the first monotheist; G-d spoke to him directly. The man also originated chutzpah by arguing with G-d against destroying immoral cities. And yet, when Abraham hesitates to send away Ishmael, probably wondering if his wife is simply overreacting, as men are wont to do when they don't want to admit that we're right, G-d tells Abraham to hearken to what she says. Tradition tells us that she was even a greater Prophet than her husband. Viewed through the lens of today's argument, how could this be? Shouldn't G-d have spoken directly to her as well? Why should Abraham have that honor and not her? The answer, then and now, is that it simply isn't needed.
We are teachers, whether we have that title or not. And G-d talks to us every day: it's called women's intuition. Unfortunately, we live in a society that likes clear markers of success. We measure a person's worth by financial status, intelligence by education level, and entertainment by ratings. There is even a "Top 25" list of Rabbis, as though a news organization has any place evaluating the spiritual leadership of Jewish communities. It is my strong belief that this cultural influence has permeated the Orthodox world and convinced some women that they need recognition and a title in order to matter.
Our real success is staring us in the face, and it is larger than any title or plaque on the wall could ever be: It is the existence of the Jewish people. From Sarah, that very first Jewish mother who knew what her child needed to be a mensch, the Jewish woman has instilled in her children the values that defined and preserved us even as we wandered in exile. Because we believe that a convert has a Jewish soul, can it be regarded as a coincidence that Moses, the greatest of our teachers, had not one but two Jewish mothers? Both his birth mother and his adoptive one (Batya, who subsequently converted to Judaism and left Egypt with the Israelites) helped to shape him into the humble yet great leader he became--not any Rabbi, a title which would not exist for many centuries. Our position is such that, hypothetically, a man could get his Ph.D. in Religious Studies, graduate from the most prestigious yeshiva with honors, be ordained a Rabbi by the Chief Rabbi of Israel himself, and still not be a Jew, if he was not born of a Jewish woman.
There has been a lot of talk of equality on this subject, as though we have been lagging behind men and allowing us to become Rabbis will finally permit us to catch up. As I see it, this will actually create inequality in status among women: If we follow the current model used by men, only those women who choose to be ordained will be viewed as leaders, and the "system" will ignore the education, natural wisdom, or inherent leadership qualities of other women. Additionally, a woman who utilizes her knowledge of halacha to participate in a male-dominated or egalitarian profession does a disservice to women who would seek her advice on matters in an informal, private environment, but who must now compete for her time with the demands placed on her by her new position.
Speaking of demands, there is no denying that women today are torn in a hundred different directions as we attempt to have it all. Contrary to popular belief, Orthodox women are encouraged to have any career they like, with one vital difference from secular society: if they choose to stay at home with their children, they are appreciated, not devalued for it. (Shout out to Oprah for being the rare high-profile woman who gives full-time moms their props!) As with all moms, even the most fulfilling job is not a safeguard against the feelings of guilt and failure when the demands of motherhood and career collide. Judaism does not ask a woman to choose between being a good Jew and a good mother; it reconciles the two in the most beautiful way. To take care of a child is one of the most spiritual things a person can do, because it emulates G-d Himself. For this very reason, a woman is exempt from praying at specific times, and some Rabbis go so far as to discourage women from praying with specific words, believing that while men need guidance in what to say, a woman's spontaneous prayer will be holy on its own. And therein lies the rub: How can a woman, who is not required to pray formally, be responsible for gathering a minyan of men who are?
Here is the part where I feel I must absolutely be blunt. There is a reason why the RCA referred to sacred continuity of tradition in its response to women attempting to become Rabbis. To disregard the leadership responsibilities given to women in order to step into the (admittedly more prominent) role of Rabbi is to put the goldfish in the vase, the cookies in the baseball cap. It is a disturbance of the order which has kept the Jewish people intact for thousands of years, and a devaluation of the women who lead every day, without a certificate or a spotlight. One of my mother's favorite and oft-cited quotations is John F Kennedy's, "Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country." If you can't tell, I'm a bit passionate on this subject, but it is because I think it is a downright shame that women are more concerned with obtaining honorary titles than with using their G-d-given abilities to lead without them. I look through Jewish history and I see such leaders. Judith did not waste time insisting upon the right to become a general; she used her specifically feminine insight to simply get the job done. Today, I am inspired by such women as the ones behind Jew in the City, Fashion-Isha, LadyMama and Out of the Ortho Box. I have no idea as to the extent of their Jewish education, nor do I need to; they are leaders of this generation of Jews regardless. Alison of JITC will often share feedback from readers who are inspired by her site to become more observant. If one needs a measurement of success in the Jewish world, that would be it.
It may not make me very popular or politically correct right now, but I remain convinced that women do not need to be Rabbis to make an impact in the lives of other Jews. Our power comes not from speaking from the bimah, but from our binah, a birthright which has been handed down from Sarah and through every Jewish woman since. Let's please not diminish it by imitating men.
cbg
*Note: I have used the term 'Rabbi' rather than the titles which have been invented for these new roles, because I consider the required study and ordination of women to be a direct imitation of the Rabbinical process.