יש רבנים בציונות הדתית אשר טוענים שנשים קרייריסטיות הן סחורה פגומה. אני יודעת שהם טועים. אני עוסקת זמן רב בבעיות של נשים ויהדות: הנושאים שאנו מתמודדות איתם, הדרך בה אנחנו תורמות והחוקים שנכשלים בלהגן עלינו.
בשבועות האחרונים, זכיתי לשבת למשך שעות ארוכות ולראיין נשים שלומדות הלכה בעיון. נשים דתיות, הלכתיות, אשר הקדישו שנים מחייהן בכדי ללמוד תורה, אפילו במקביל לגידול משפחה ועבודה בכדי להתפרנס. הן עושות זאת כי הן אוהבות ללמוד, כי הן רוצות להפוך את היהדות שלנו ליהדות טובה יותר, כי אנשים שלא היו ניגשים לאף דמות תורנית אחרת, כן בוחרים להתחבר דווקא דרכן ליהדות.
כשסוף סוף הקשבתי לשיעור המוקלט של הרב אלי סדן במכינת ‘בני דוד בעלי’, המכינה היוקרתית והאהובה של הציונות הדתית והמקום שבו גברים צעירים לומדים תורה כהכנה לצבא, הייתי בהלם.
הרב סדן הקדיש את השיעור שלו, שהיה במסגרת שיעורי הכנה לחיי נישואין, לתפקיד האישה. בשיעור הוא יוצא כנגד הפמיניזם שהורס את הנשים כך שהן לא ראויות להתחתן, כיוון שהפמיניזם מקדם את הרעיון שנשים לא אמורות להיות תלויות פיננסית בבעליהן. הוא מסביר שללמד נשים להיות עצמאיות ולהרוויח שכר שמספק את כל צרכיהן, מקלקל להן את היכולת להיות רעיות ואמהות טובות. לדעתו צריך לחנך בנות מגיל 4 שהדבר הכי קדוש שהן יכולות לעשות הוא להתחתן וללדת ילדים.
בתור אשה שמוקפת בנשים שעובדות מחוץ לבתיהן וגם מצליחות להיות רעיות ואמהות מסורות, מאוד קשה לי להתחבר עם הקביעה הזו. אני לא יכולה להבין למה הוא מתכוון או למי הוא מכוון. איזה נשים מתקלקלות? איפה הנשים שלא מסוגלות לתפקד בתור רעיות של או אמהות רק בגלל שהן מרוויחות משכורת טובה? יותר מזה, בהתחשב בכמויות הנשים והילדים שנתקלים בקשיים כלכליים אחרי תום הליך גירושין, מחלה או מוות, שלא לדבר על נשים המוותרות על דמי מזונות רק כדי לקבל גט, המשפט של הרב סדן הוא לא אחראי בצורה קיצונית.
תפקיד האישה, לפי הרב סדן, הוא לא להילחם ולא לצאת למלחמה- לא בצבא, לא בקריירה, ולא בעולם התורה וההלכה. המיקוד של האישה חייב להיות אך ורק המשפחה. היא צריכה לבנות את הבית, לא רק לשטוף את החלונות ולהכין אוכל- למרות שזה גם טוב ורצוי- אך הגבר צריך לחזור לבית עם אווירה אחרת בשביל הבריאות והנשמה. אישה יודעת לעשות את זה הרבה יותר טוב מגבר… היא מכניסה שמחה ואור לתוך הבית… החטא והרוע של הפמיניזם המודרני הוא שהוא לוקח את הדברים המיוחדים האלה מהאישה. בעלה מפסיד והדורות הבאים מפסידים גם הם.
ואני תוהה לעצמי, איפה הנשים המקולקלות שעליו מדבר הרב סדן? מה הוא רואה שאני מפספסת? איפה הערב-רב הנשי הזה, שאינן ראויות לחתונה, לא מסוגלות לקיים בית נורמלי ונוטשות את ילדיהן לטובת קריירה? איפה המשבר עליו הוא צועק? כי אני לא רואה אותו.
לפי הרב סדן, אישה שיושבת ולומדת תורה זה גם סוג של מלחמה. לא נאסר על האישה ללמוד תורה. אם אישה אוהבת ומכירה את התורה ולכן ילדיה סופגים את זה מבית, זה מצוין! אבל מפה ועד לשאוף להיות גדולה בתורה זה כבר משהו אחר… זה משהו שדורש תכונות של לוחם… וההתמחות של האישה היא שלווה.
אני למדתי תורה מנשים גדולות בתורה. הייתי בתוך בתיהן. אני יכולה להגיד שהבתים שלהן מזמינים ומלאים באהבה, חיים וספרי קודש. המילים והלבבות של אותן נשים מלאות קדושה. וכן, הן גם לוחמות. הן נלחמות למען אנשיהם, ילדיהם, אלוקים והתורה.
הן לומדות כיוון שהתורה קוראת להן. כי התורה, אלוקים, היהדות וההלכה מאירים להן את הדרך ועל פיהם הן הולכות. הן לא מקלקלות את בתיהן, אלא בונות את הבתים יחד עם בעליהן- שתומכים לגמרי ב”התמודדות שלהן עם התורה”- ובכך מגדלים משפחות מעורות בעולם התורה והאמונה. הן מלמדות ועובדות בכדי ליצור קהילות טובות יותר, חזקות יותר, צודקות יותר.
קיוויתי כי השיעור שהוקלט לפני ארבע שנים היה משהו חריג בנוף של החינוך המאוזן והבריא של הציונות הדתית. אך לאחרונה יצאה לאור החוברת “אם בישראל” שהמשיכה לדון בתפקידים המגדריים. באחד הקטעים המוזרים שכתב מחברה, רב נוסף ממכינת עלי הרב יוסף קלנר, הוא ציין כי “מרכז הכובד האישיותי של האשה נשען על הרגש ולא על הדעת…”.
בנוסף הוא כתב כי “על פי רוב, לא נמצא נשים בפסגות הגבוהות של עולם הרוח. לכל אורך ההיסטוריה היו אמנם נשים שהגיעו לפסגות הגבוהות של הרוח בעם ישראל… אך מאז ומעולם הן היו יוצאות מן הכלל שאינן מעידות על הכלל- הסטטיסטיקה מעידה על כך ואין זה מקרי. את כתבי הנסתר בעם ישראל לא חיברו נשים- רשב”י, האריז”ל, הרמח”ל הרב קוק ועוד, היו גברים. מאותה סיבה… לא מצאנו אותן חולקות פרסי נובל באופן שווה עם גברים”.
מה שהרב קלנר ככל הנראה לא יודע, זה שבמשך רוב ההיסטוריה נמנעו הנשים מללמוד. העובדה כי נשים לא היו מלומדות, זאת הסיבה שהן לא נמנו על זוכי פרס נובל, לפחות לא באותה כמות של עמיתיהם הגברים, ולא בעיית מסוגלות או מוטיבציה. בעבר לא נתנו לנשים את הכלים לעשות זאת. כיום, נשים רבות מוכיחות את יכולתן בלימודי קודש וחול, מה שמפריך את הטענות שהן אינן מסוגלות.
בקטע אחר הצהיר הרב קלנר כי הבאה לעלום של ילד אחד שווה עשרה פרסי נובל. לצערי, הצהרה זו מבוססת על הרעיון שאישה חייבת לבחור בין הגשמת רצונה ללמוד, ללמד ולהגיע להישגים, לבין ללדת ילדים ולהקים משפחה. במשך זמן רב מדי אמרו לנו הנשים שכל מה שאנו טובות בו זה נושא המשפחה והילדים. אבל אנחנו אומרות: ‘לא. אנחנו יותר מזה. אנחנו רוצות לתרום, לקחת חלק, להיות שותפות מעבר ליצירת בני אדם נוספים – אנחנו רוצות להיות שותפות מלאות לאנושות.
מאוד טרגי בעיניי שמכינת עלי, אחת מישיבות הדגל של עולם הציונות הדתית, מטיפה לתפקידי מגדר כל כך קיצוניים, עד כדי כך שעל בת הזוג לשאת את העולם הרגשי השלם של המשפחה בעוד בן הזוג אמור להתמודד יום יום מחוצה לה. מדוע לא לבנות את הבית יחדיו, בדרך שהכי מתאימה לבני הזוג? כמה כואב ומגביל לחיות על פי החזון של הרב סדן והרב קלנר כשזה נוגד את הטבע שלנו?.
הכותבת היא מייסדת ארגון ‘חוכמת נשים’, המאגד נשים דתיות וחרדיות הלוחמות בקיצוניות ביהדות.
Originally published in The Jerusalem Post Magazine, June 7, 2018
“Women’s voices have been generally missing from the great Jewish discussion that takes part within our communities. For millennia, the corpus of both Jewish law and thought has included the perspectives and outlooks of men alone. Today, we are witnessing an important renaissance, allowing us to benefit from the distinctiveness and singularity that women bring to the table. I believe that their voices allow us to view many of the pressing issues facing Judaism today from a fresh perspective. I believe that anyone who took part in this significant Shabbat, and went to hear one of the women who spoke throughout our various communities, was indeed impressed by the need for female Torah erudition.”
Rabbi Yoni Rosensweig
So said Rabbi Yoni Rosensweig, who teaches at Midreshet Lindenbaum and is the rabbi of the Netzach Menashe community in Beit Shemesh. His congregation hosted Dr. Penina Neuwirth for Shabbat Dorshot Tov, which, in April, saw 80 women Torah scholars take to podiums in Orthodox synagogues across Israel. Dorshot Tov, and the extent to which it has grown and is supported by so many Orthodox rabbis and communities, is a testament to the increasing acceptance of women’s Torah leadership in Orthodoxy.
This communal acceptance is a result of a number of factors unique to Israel, which together create an atmosphere of opportunity for women’s leadership. Many are the individuals, institutions, and organizations who are working to make women’s Torah and leadership a normative part of Judaism and Israeli society. This piece is the first in a series that will look at the phenomenon of women’s leadership, meet the women at the heart of this shift, and explore why this movement is good for the Jews.
While there is no shortage of female teachers or lecturers, and there certainly are and have long been female scholars, the opportunity to shape Jewish law and policy has been largely closed to them. Men studied the law and men made the law.
However, the past three decades have seen a major shift in women’s access to Torah study, with numerous institutions providing women with deep education in Jewish law. Moreover, in Israel, innovative trailblazers are constructing creative positions in which women can apply this knowledge.
What has led to this shift? Some claim that it is born from the need for women in leadership positions, for the benefit of both the community and women themselves.
Yael Rockman, Executive Director, Kolech
Yael Rockman, executive director of Kolech, a prominent Israeli Orthodox feminist organization, and initiator of Dorshot Tov, explains: “In general society, women are analysts and judges. For religious people, Judaism is a huge part of our lives. If we prevent women from fully participating in Judaism, we create a reality where a woman can fully express herself and serve her community in her secular life, but is stifled Jewishly. This kind of dissonance is unhealthy and won’t last. For a thriving Jewish community, we must resolve this tension. There is room for women leaders. We need to give them ways to participate in the community. Otherwise, we will lose the next generation.”
Indeed, institutions such as Matan, Beit Midrash Harel, Midreshet Lindenbaum, Midreshet Ein Hanatziv in Ma’aleh Gilboah, and Nishmat — to name a few — all boast programs that teach women Jewish law at high levels, and provide certification after rigorous testing. Women’s midrashot, the women’s educational counterpart to the men’s yeshiva, are packed with hundreds of young women studying Jewish texts, weaving themselves into the legacy of Jewish discourse.
Those familiar with the debate surrounding women’s scholarship and leadership in the Diaspora (specifically on the question of Orthodox women rabbis) may be surprised by the flourishing of women’s opportunities in Israel. It is important to note that there is a significant difference in the approach to and acceptance of women’s learning and leadership in Orthodoxy in Israel as compared to the United States. A number of factors lead to this different reality.
First: the model of leadership. In the Diaspora, the position of rabbi is often pastoral. In that capacity, he — for in Orthodox circles, the rabbi is virtually always male — is often a communal leader who heads a synagogue, is paid by the community, and serves as the address for the community’s questions and advice. His wife, by virtue of being married to the rabbi, is often included as an unpaid adjunct of the position and is often expected, depending on her skill set and availability, to host, give classes, spiritually advise her female congregants, attend life cycle events, and be a visible and active part of the community.
In Israel, however, for most religious Jews, the synagogue is simply where one goes to pray. Religious social life in Israel is not centered around the synagogue, the way it is in the Diaspora. There may or may not be a designated rabbi who gives sermons from the pulpit, but rarely would everyone in the congregation turn to him for guidance. His position is not a full-time one, except perhaps in shuls that purposely implement the Diaspora model.
The difference in leadership models between Israel and the Diaspora means that not only is there far less competition for the pastoral rabbinic roles, but also the communal structure is not at risk of upheaval when women step up to play a role in communal leadership.
Women learn in the Beit Midrash
The second major difference is that there is no separation between religion and state in Israel. Many public, state-funded positions in Israel have primarily been open to those who have been ordained. These positions include city rabbis, spiritual guidance of educational institutions, rabbis of hospitals, heads of religious councils, rabbinic court directors, rabbinic court judges, kashrut supervisors, army chaplains, and many more.
And while rabbinic roles in the Diaspora affect only those within the local and larger Orthodox community, in Israel, the lack of separation of religion and state means that marriage, divorce, conversion and even burial are government services. Each aspect of these services has far-reaching influence on women’s lives and yet, because they fall under the realm of “religion”, women have had no opportunity to influence them.
Until recently, all of these positions had been closed to women — regardless of whether the positions were rabbinic or clerical and administrative in nature. Because these positions are state-funded, however, they are subject to Israel’s civil law, which explicitly outlaws discrimination.
Enter Israel’s NGOs that use Israel’s civil law to open doors for women in religious and communal services. Through strategic discrimination lawsuits filed with the Supreme Court, they have forced the state rabbinical courts and Ministry of Religious Services to open certain positions to women. These include kashrut supervisors, rabbinic court advocates, rabbinic court directors and, in the latest turn of events, legal advisors to the the rabbinical courts. The position of legal advisor is particularly influential, since rabbinical judges must not issue rulings that contravene Israeli law. Legal advisers review and insist on changes to important and precedent-setting rulings.
These efforts to increase women’s representation in religious services have born fruit: putting women in positions of influence has improved not only the rulings that emerge from the rabbinic courts, but even their functionality.
In 2013, a new law, stating that at least four of the 11 seats on the committee to elect rabbinic court judges must be filled by women, changed the dynamic of this committee. The appointed women fought against the corruption, nepotism and political deal-making that had been rampant. The real difference, however, came with the appointment of rabbinical court advocate Dr. Rachel Levmore, whose vast knowledge of Jewish law and passionate commitment to agunot led her to spend hundreds of hours vetting potential candidates. As a result, the committee succeeded in electing 22 new judges after nearly eight years of dysfunction and stalemate in which no new judges were elected.
Since Dr. Levmore’s tenure ended in 2016, however, the committee has once again devolved into a stalemate of politics, with no new judges elected, causing a backlog in cases and prolonging the suffering of those whose cases gather dust. Her story suggests that while having women on committees changes dynamics, having learned women on committees changes practice.
The role of rabbinic court advocate was one of the positions previously open only to men. This meant that a woman seeking divorce was often the sole woman in the room with six men, two of whom were her direct opposition. In 1991, Ohr Torah Stone (OTS), a network of Modern Orthodox educational institutions, approached the Chief Rabbinate about the need for women advocates but was promptly turned down. It wasn’t until OTS went to the Supreme Court that a Knesset bill amended the law to allow for women to practice as advocates in the rabbinical court. When the first class of toanot graduated from the Monica Dennis Goldberg School for Women Advocates, the Rabbinate contested their credentials, and OTS again took them to court. Finally, in 1994, the Rabbinate recognized the program and its graduates.
According to Dr. Levmore, women’s experiences in Israeli courts improved dramatically when women were introduced as halakhic and legal representatives. “When women hold official positions, the concerns of those women who appear in court are more likely to be heard.
Now, nearly 30 years later, the Rabbinate refers cases to Yad La’Isha, an Ohr Torah Stone organization that employs toanot who represent women denied a divorce, in recognition of their professionalism and competency.
As women’s participation in the elite committees and courtrooms bring about trickle-down change, others are changing the way women engage with their own religious practice from the bottom up.
In 1988, Matan opened its doors; it began with five women studying around a dining room table and soon had 90 women studying the Bible and Talmud. In 1997, Nishmat, The Jeanie Schottenstein Center for advanced Torah study for women created the Yoetzet Halacha program to train women in family purity laws. Until the advent of this program, religious women would take their very intimate questions to a rabbi. The creators of this program, Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbanit Chana Henkin, did their utmost to gain acceptance and approval for the program, to great success. When yoatzot came on the scene, thousands of women who practice family purity began turning to these women experts who not only understood the laws, but understood the female experience first-hand.
Initially, both toanot and yoatzot faced opposition, despite the need for their services. But, social change develops at its own pace, and now yoatzot and toanot have become entrenched in mainstream Israeli communities. With time, people are growing used to seeing women as scholars and even decisors of Jewish law.
Perhaps the largest contributor to this normalization is the breadth of opportunity for women’s learning here in Israel. Hundreds of women study Jewish law in high-level programs, some of them passing the same exams administered to men by the Rabbinate.
Recently, the Susi Bradfield Women’s Institute of Halakhic Leadership (WIHL) at Midreshet Lindenbaum certified two women as Manhigot Ruchaniyot and Morot Hora’ah, qualifying them to advise on matters of Jewish law and serve as spiritual leaders to the Jewish people. After successful completion of the five-year program and rigorous written examinations, these two women join six others who completed the comprehensive training in high-level halakhic curricula addressing kashrut, Shabbat, family purity, mourning, marriage, fertility and more.
While far from being widely accepted, certification of women as halachic decisors is not as controversial in Israel as in the US. Moreover, rabbis acknowledge that Jewish law does not preclude women as leaders. Rabbi Nachum Rabinovich, head of Yeshivat Birkat Moshe in Ma’aleh Adumim, writes in Mesilat Levavchem, a work of Halachic-philosophical essays, that according to the majority of halachic authorities, there is no halachic problem with women serving as judges and therefore no problem with them accepting other leadership roles.
Rockman echoes this sentiment. “The challenges for women leadership aren’t in halacha, they are in the system. Girls start learning Talmud at a much later age, if at all. Their education in Judaism diverges at a certain point. There are no full time Yeshivot for women. In addition, women are locked out of many positions and cannot easily make Torah learning into their profession. Then there are the social barriers, people are not used to seeing women in leadership positions, and they oppose it without knowing the halachot. This is one of the reasons we initiated Dorshot Tov and other programming, to bring the scholarship of women to the wider Orthodox community and to help these women find professional positions.”
This is the power of visibility and representation. Communal leaders become such because their authority, expertise and leadership are recognized by the community who adopt them as their guides. As more women become increasingly visible in these roles, people will begin turning to them at higher rates, as many are already doing now.
Undeniably, the existence of women leaders and scholars enables women to better practice and engage with their Judaism. Also undeniably, women’s informed involvement forces the system to acknowledge women’s needs and experiences, and take them into consideration when operating in practice.
In the next part of this series, we will meet these game-changing women and explore just how much they have already done to benefit Jewish and Israeli society, and how much farther we still have to go.
There’s a new get refuser in town. Two weeks ago, the Haifa Rabbinic Court issued a ruling to publicly shame a man who has refused to give his wife a Jewish divorce for the past two years, and put him in cherem, a social sanction involving public and private excommunication from communal life. The court’s edict instructs the community not to speak to him, conduct business dealings with him, count him for a minyan in synagogue, call him up for the Torah, offer him food and drink, and the like.
In order to dissolve a Jewish marriage, a man must deliver a formal bill of divorcement — the “get” — to his wife, and refusing to grant one leaves her chained to the marriage indefinitely (a chained woman is colloquially known as an agunah).
In the past two weeks since this most recent shaming campaign went public, the man tried to defend his recalcitrance by countering that his wife was alienating him from their children. Since then, the religious community in Israel has been dissecting the couple’s divorce to death. Who is the real victim? Who is the real bad guy? Being reasonable people, we all want to hear “both sides of the story” before casting judgement, so we pry, gossip, and expose the intimate details of this couple’s custody battle and property disputes. There are young children in the picture.
Everything escalates. The woman still doesn’t have her get.
We need to stop publicly prying into the nitty gritty of people’s marriages and divorces in agunah cases. It doesn’t help, and it legitimizes get refusal.
Here is why:
When it comes to trapping a person in a marriage against their will, it doesn’t matter if the husband is evil/wonderful or if the wife is evil/wonderful. Women deserve freedom because they are people, not because men are evil. You don’t earn the right to be free by being a perfect victim, nor do you earn the privilege to abuse someone by being a perfect victim.
Exposing the details of marital breakdown or custody battles as a way to see who is the “good guy” in the story implies that get refusal is a legitimate tool that is warranted under certain conditions, so it is our job to determine if those conditions have been met. It sends the message that, if she had been really awful to him, then she deserved it. Or if he’s been dealt a really bad deal, then he can use the get as a weapon to extort what he needs. It says that freedom is not a given for a woman; it is something she is entitled to only if she is found to be the more virtuous party. But here’s the thing: denying a person freedom by refusing a get is never warranted, the same way that other domestic abuse is never warranted.
Agunot are not fodder for publicity stunts and they are not damsels in distress. They are women, people, who have the right to be free regardless of anyone’s character appraisals of them or of their husbands.
Originally published in the Times of Israel by Rachel Stomel
The salvation of the Children of Israel, no less, came about because women were heard. This is, of course, Chochmat Nashim’s raison d’etre — the idea that the world changes for the better simply by virtue of women’s presence and participation. Consider the women of the Passover story: Miriam, Yocheved, Pharaoh’s daughter, and the valiant midwives, among still others.
Knesset member Aliza Lavie is blond, poised — and whip smart.
I caught her on her way out of the Knesset after yet another dead-end meeting with its ultra-Orthodox members, discussing women’s rights.
“Ultra-Orthodox parties are taking women backwards. Everything I try to do, they block,” she said, her voice rising with frustration. “Everything I’ve done, they’re trying to undo.”
I’ve been following Lavie for years — as part of my own activism for Orthodox women’s rights. Formerly a lecturer on communications and gender at Bar Ilan University, Lavie has led the charge to advance women since joining the Knesset in 2013 as part of the Yesh Atid party. Orthodox but not ultra-Orthodox, she has made it her mission to ensure women’s representation in Israel’s religious institutions. In Israel, a woman can serve as prime minister, head of the Bank of Israel, a Supreme Court judge and an air force pilot — yet her personal life is still subject to a religious legal system that renders her powerless.
For Lavie, it’s grueling work: She spends her days fighting with ultra-Orthodox members of the Knesset over women’s rights.
As part of government coalition agreements, control of all things religious is given to the Haredi parties —- and the coalition in power today (the Likud, Bayit Yehudi, UTJ, Shas, Kulanu and Yisrael Beiteinu parties) vetoes every one of Lavie’s bills. “Whether it’s to create female community representatives in the religious courts; to enlarge the women’s space at the Kotel, which is currently one-fifth of the size of the men’s, or to make prenuptial agreements [to prevent the divorce refusal] part of the marriage ceremony, my hands are tied,” she told me.
Despite 75% of Haredi women working — with 55% of married men studying full time in yeshiva, according to Hiddush, an organization working toward religious equality in Israel — Haredi women are entirely absent from government.
Both of the Haredi political parties, the Sephardic Shas and the Ashkenazi United Torah Judaism, bar female members; this has engendered growing problems within the ultra-Orthodox community and stokes a constant battle for women’s rights on a national level.
MK Aliza Lavie
“They claim to represent the women in their communities, but they don’t come to sessions on women’s health or abuse,” Lavie said. “The issues in their community aren’t even discussed, because there are no Haredi women to discuss them. I work on behalf of Haredi women, but of course it’s not the same as having them there to speak for themselves. The lack of women in their parties affects the balance of the entire government, reducing the number of female MKs and ministers.”
For Ruth Colian, a Haredi lawyer and a colleague of mine, watching the community’s male representatives ignore, repeatedly, matters critical to women’s health inspired her to create U’Bizchutan, a Haredi women’s political party, under which she ran for the Knesset in the 2015 elections.
“I saw women dying of a disease they could not name — breast cancer — because of modesty,” Colian said. “I saw domestic violence that was kept quiet, women taken advantage of at work — especially Sephardic women — and Sephardic girls kept out of schools because of their backgrounds. They deserve to be heard.” Colian did not cross the election threshold, but it created a storm in Haredi society, marking the first time a Haredi woman challenged the status quo.
‘Today, We Have No Influence’
Esty Shushan, founder of Nivcharot, a women’s rights organization, feels that this lack of representation lies at the core of the issues Haredi women face.
“Our fight today is a battle for basic rights,” she said. Speaking quietly but passionately, the Safed-born Shushan explained that she was still shaken by the story of a woman she met the day before.
“Like so many Haredi women, Sarah married young after meeting her husband twice,” she told me. “She was hardly consulted in the process. She got pregnant immediately, but the marriage did not work and she got a divorce. She raised her son on her own until the boy turned 4, at which point her ex’s family took him from her, and she hasn’t seen him in over a year. They make her life hell.”
The phone went quiet, and Shushan’s tone shifted from sad to angry: “All she wants to do is learn. To be educated. To be a lawyer and prevent these things from happening to other women. But she has no education, no money, no future. And there is no one who is helping her.”
Esty Shushan
Shushan lashes out not at the community that allows such things to happen, but rather at the Israeli government for enabling the disempowerment of Haredi women. “We live in a democratic state where every person has rights, but we, Haredi women, still lack representation,” she said. “The religious parties state explicitly that they are parties of men. Women have no influence or power. The State of Israel allows institutionalized discrimination when it comes to those who hide behind religion.”
Shushan sees her background in the community as essential to her work. “Only someone who has lived our life can know what we go through, what it’s like to be a young Haredi woman without work or education, under pressure to marry young and raise a family,” she said. “When we turn to women who want to help but aren’t Haredi themselves, we are accused of ‘going outside of the community’ and are shunned.”
‘Our Lives Are A Duality’
And it is not only in government that women lack positions of influence — the rabbinic courts, which have exclusive jurisdiction over all Jewish divorce in Israel, comprise all-male panels, in accordance with Jewish law.
It was from one of these divorce courts that Fainy Sukenik expected justice when she applied for a divorce at the age of 27, after seven years of marriage and three children.
She was sorely disappointed.
“It’s about you and your husband, but, at the same time, the political struggles play out in micro,” she explained. “A woman comes to court and, regardless of her success or status, there, her word matters less. Since Jewish divorce law favors the husband, much depends on the judges’ outlook. If the judges run their court according to outdated models of society, she can say she wants a divorce, she can say that she is abused, but if her husband says he still wants to be married, she has very little chance of getting a divorce.”
Fainy Sukenik
Sukenik described Haredi women’s lives as a duality: “In some ways, our rights are very present, and in others they are invisible. Men study Torah, so women go out into the world and work. But at the same time, we are told, no matter what you do or accomplish, it is not as important as your husband’s learning. At home you are number two; your goal in life is to support your husband and make a family. This is what we are taught from childhood.”
During the years she sought a divorce, Sukenik was ostracized and nearly fired from her teaching position at a Haredi girls school because of her decision to divorce. She began to blog under a pseudonym, and started a Facebook group called B’Asher Telchi to help other Orthodox women going through divorce.
Though officially banned in Haredi society, access to the internet is widespread; many people have two phones, one “kosher” with no internet and the other a smartphone. Thousands of Haredim have joined more and more social media groups whose members support each other in the comfort of shared identity.
But these groups do more than offer support — they are breeding grounds for change.
According to the Knesset member Rachel Azaria, another Orthodox fighter for women’s rights: “Women make change in their society by raising their voices via grassroots groups. In Jerusalem, one group called Lo Tishtok [13,000 members] sparked a major debate about sexual abuse. This led to the appointment of social workers and acknowledgement of an issue that had previously been swept under the rug. Another, Lo Nivcharot [(a precursor to Shushan’s not-for-profit, Nivcharot, currently 11,000 members strong)], created a movement of women who refused to vote unless they were represented [by women in Haredi parties].”
Sukenik’s experiences also led to her expanding her Facebook group into a nongovernmental organization. Through Ba’asher Telchi she has helped 2,000 women through the divorce process over the past four years. She has seen the changes to Haredi society in these women: “My mother’s generation never asked: ‘If I bring in the money, why do I have so little say in how it gets spent? Why must I deny my wants and opinions, my intelligence, and knowledge the minute I walk in the door?’ Women are beginning to ask questions [that] are influencing the entire Haredi structure.”
Sukenik asked incredulously: “Will Haredi society disintegrate if women have rights and are treated as equals? No! Not at all. So, to whose advantage is it to keep things this way? I don’t see this as men versus women, I see this as elites versus the average people. [Communal leaders and rabbis] want to stay in power; this is how they keep things in control, how they control people.”
‘Here, The Status Quo Is A Holy Thing’
Michal Zernowitski first entered Haredi politics in 2014, when she ran for office (and subsequently lost) in local elections of the ultra-Orthodox city Elad. Zernowitski spoke passionately about the elite that rules her society.
“Women are not rabbis, they are not communal leaders,” she said. “Our educational institutions are private with no government oversight. Every organization that runs the schools is devoid of women. Men make decisions. People get used to there being no women in any position of influence or authority, and they don’t understand how much this affects the community, in health, economics, women’s rights, etc. It’s not that they are bad people, but they aren’t women. How can they possibly represent our needs? In rabbinic courts, there are no female judges. Of course that affects how women are seen. Our kids are growing up without even seeing pictures of women — of course that affects them!”
Michal Zernowitski
The outcomes are clear. According to Rachel Levmore — the first female rabbinical court advocate elected to the committee to appoint rabbinic court judges — women’s experiences in Israeli courts improved dramatically when women were introduced as halachic and legal representatives and included in the committee that elects judges.
“When women hold official positions, the concerns of those women who appear in court are more likely to be heard,” she said.
Moreover, Haredi women are unlikely to have their concerns addressed anywhere else. Given the prohibition against television, secular radio and the internet in Haredi society, many Haredim get their news from internal ultra-Orthodox media, where censorship is a given. Some topics, such as women’s rights, women’s health, sexual abuse or even women in the news, are simply not mentioned.
On the one hand, this practice shields the population from secular influences they consider damaging; on the other, it limits awareness of opportunities and potential risks in ways that may have lasting ramifications.
When it comes to women’s rights, for example, Zernowitski says Haredi girls have no access to understanding their legal employment rights — essential as more and more women enter the tech workforce, finding employment in computers, business management and software engineering. (According to the Israel Democracy Institute, 17,300 Haredi high school girls are currently majoring in technological fields, an increase of 45% from 2013; more than half of them take matriculation exams.)
But when the Israel Women’s Network launched an awareness campaign about a legal advice hotline for religious women, the response was overwhelming. “We were bombarded with such insane and basic questions [from Haredi women] about women’s rights to salary and benefits, we had to hire lawyers and specialists,” said Zernowitski, who sits on the organization’s board.
Changing a community’s culture is complicated.
“In the Haredi world, ‘status quo’ is a holy thing,” Zernowitski explained. “The problem is that extreme elements always try to make it more extreme. It’s not enough to have separate classes, now it’s separate buses, libraries, separate everything, and this becomes the new normal. This is what we are up against.”
All these efforts by Haredi women to improve their society may be culminating, at least for now, in the candidacy of Rabbanit Adina Bar Shalom for government. The daughter of the revered late rabbi Ovadia Yosef, who also founded the Shas party, has announced a new political party that she will head. Her very announcement is a game changer, reflecting the winds of change that now seem inevitable. Most recently, the Israeli Ministry of Justice appointed its first female Haredi judge, Chavi Toker, to head the magistrate court.
Perhaps because of heartening developments like these, Haredi women’s activists are staying put, determined to make a difference.
Sukenik, Shushan, Zernowitski and their colleagues have no interest in abandoning their community. Rather, they want to improve it, by making women’s voices prominent. They know that if they do not fight for the improvement they want to see, their community will be vulnerable to the extremists.
Zernowitski sees this battle as the launching point for women’s representation in policymaking. “Haredi women are at the forefront of all rights struggles in the Haredi sector, in the battle for the rights of divorced women and women in general, in struggles for the rights of workers, in the revolution for higher education and employment, in the fight against sexual abuse and for quality education for our children. I believe that from here, they will reach decision-making positions, and that it will happen soon.”
