Role of women in local synagogue management
In Orthodox synagogues one is accustomed to seeing men reading from the Torah, opening and closing the Aron Kodesh, performing Hagba (the lifting up of the Torah), calling up men to the Torah and all the other duties and mitzvot that are incumbent on males to perform.
But does this religiously male domain preclude women from serving on synagogue committees? And we are not talking here of ladies guilds.
Contrary to popular belief, women are playing an increasingly vital role on the governing bodies of shuls and are in demand for their organisational skills, decision-making and a variety of other essential tasks that preclude making mezonot savouries for the Kiddush after shul on Shabbos.
Speaking to the chairmen and presidents of several shuls in fact revealed that ladies guilds hardly exist any longer and that most of the catering is done professionally.
Stanley Seeff, president of the Sydenham-Highlands North Congregation, told the SA Jewish Report: “The women are important cogs in the wheel of our council. It would surprise you to know that there are two women on our committee – one is actually the chairman of our shtiebel and the other is chairman of education.”
But what of the shtiebel chairman who is not permitted halachically to carry out duties on the bimah during the service? “Not a problem,” replied Seeff. “When it comes to religious obligations, other arrangements are made.”
Carmen Kay, office manager of the Great Synagogue in the Gardens, Cape Town, says there is no objection to having women on the committee, although there are none at present. The woman who previously served on the committee was in charge of the children’s services and the former executive director of the shul was a woman, who has since emigrated.
Green and Sea Point Hebrew Congregation President Arnold Bloch said women elected to the shul committee were always welcome. “There are many women who assist unofficially but we do not have elected women committee members at the moment as we find they are committed to women’s organisations such as Bnoth Zion Association WIZO.
“We haven’t given up trying to recruit women as they are administratively competent. We are still looking.”
Of course, there has never been a question about women serving on the committees of Progressive temples. Temple Israel in Hillbrow has three men and three women on the committee, one of whom is Reeva Forman, who was the first-ever elected chairman of a temple within the Progressive movement.
“I previously belonged to the Great Synagogue in Wolmarans Street, which I fought to save from being sold as I have a great respect for heritage sites. I was devastated when it was sold after a Jew was mugged and killed in the area.”
In 1994 Forman was given the opportunity to fight, as chairman, to preserve Temple Israel, another heritage site, and this time she succeeded – by one vote.
“Jews were moving out of the area in 1997. But today there are still congregants from areas such as Hillbrow, Yeoville and Parktown and all services are run by capable laymen.
“There are services every Shabbat and on festivals – although we struggle to find a minyan on Friday nights. We actually need a rabbi and more facilities but are grateful for the assistance from the three rabbis of Beit Emanuel and Bet David.”
Moving from tumah to tahara
This week’s parsha introduces us to the detrimental spiritual effects of tumat met, the impurity that comes from being in contact with the dead and the requisite process of purification through the mechanics of the sprinkling of the ashes of a red heifer – the para adumah.
Tumah (ritual impurity) is a prevalent topic in the Torah and in many instances, we are warned to distance ourselves from numerous sources of tumah.
But what is it anyway? The English translation does it no justice (as is the case with most English translations of Hebrew concepts).
I have heard rabbis and teachers try and compare tumah to a type of “spiritual radiation”, which can affect anyone who comes close to its source.
Another idea which I read a while ago describes tumah as deviation from an object’s designation, while tahara (the opposite of tumah) is the return or recalibration of an entity to its purpose and goal. For example, a dead animal is by definition tamei (impure) while an animal shechted in accordance with halacha, is tahor (pure), and can be eaten by the holiest and most pure Jew around – apologies to all the vegans out there. A human corpse carries the highest form of tumah, as he can no longer fulfil his purpose in this world, namely living and sanctifying Hashem’s name in the world.
But I think the best explanation is that tumah is the erroneous sensation that Hashem has abandoned us. Hashem is all of reality. (The ineffable name “havaya” talks to this concept.) The truth is that Hashem is always everywhere and intimately involved in our lives. When we perceive and appreciate this, we live on a lofty level of tahara and kedusha. However, when we don’t perceive Hashem’s presence because of a death or being in contact with certain spiritually tainted objects, we are labelled as being tamei.
It’s for this reason that a mourner, someone who by definition came into contact with a relative who passed away and mistakenly felt that Hashem had abandoned him, has to recite kaddish publicly in shul and re-infuse himself with kedusha – sanctity and the realisation that Hashem was always there and would never forsake him.
Quarrels and Korach
I remember once being peripherally involved in a community dispute (a rare occurrence in Jewish life to be sure) some years ago. Discontent had been bubbling for a while, but it all boiled over around this time – parshat Korach. As support was being mustered, one party approached me during the week and asked, “Are you with me, or are you with Korach?” About a day later, I was speaking to the other party, who raised the dispute and asked me, “Are you on my side, or that of the other party, who is clearly Korach?”
In the end I was able, more or less, to stay clear of it (thank G-d), but the nature of that interaction is indicative of the challenge of learning the lesson from our parsha generally. Is the lesson that we should be confident in our position, invoking the wrath of G-d to strike down those who are clearly in error since they disagree with us? Obviously not. Is the lesson that there’s no right and wrong, and it all just depends on your perspective? I don’t believe our Torah is compatible with such moral relativism. The parsha can teach us how to engage in such difficult situations through two-fold analysis of a situation, as we can see with the Korach dispute.
First, look at the merits of the arguments raised by each side. Korach is claiming that Moshe has claimed power for himself, without divine mandate, in order to rule over the Jewish people. Moshe is claiming that he has no personal desire for power, he’s simply doing what G-d instructed. We, the astute readers of the Torah, know that Moshe is correct, that in fact, he shunned leadership at the burning bush, and accepted the position only at Hashem’s insistence. Besides, all of the Jewish people have seen that Hashem entrusted Moshe to deliver the ten commandments, and that he succeeded in achieving atonement for us after the sin of the golden calf. Is it more logical that such a man would attempt a power grab, or that the troublesome former slaves needed a leader with a firm hand on the wheel?
Second, look at the approach of each side. Korach begins by wheeling and dealing – mustering support, putting spin on his position, and using soundbites to signal his virtue. Moshe appeals for de-escalation, reaches out to other disputants Datan and Aviram, and asks for trust based on his history of dedication to the people.
Our cognitive biases, particularly what’s known as the “halo effect”, nudge us to prejudge people and situations and to take sides based on who we like better. But, before deciding who is Moshe and who is Korach, we would be well served by applying these parsha lessons.
How to avoid blindness
Do you want to preserve your eyesight? Mishna Berura (24,7) quotes an ancient custom that will prevent blindness. Passing the tzitzit over our eyes when reciting the third paragraph of the shema will guarantee that we don’t lose the ability to see. How are we to understand this blessing?
The final passage of this week’s Torah reading teaches us the mitzvah of tzitzit, the fringes we are instructed to attach to the edges of four-cornered garments in order to remember all of Hashem’s commandments. After spelling out the details of the laws of tzitzit, the portion concludes with a seemingly unrelated reminder that Hashem took us out of Egypt.
Egypt is actually the embodiment of the polar opposite of remembering. This was the country that forgot all about Joseph and all the blessings he had brought upon the land, saving them from a certain famine. A generation later, his erstwhile VIP family, who had been invited to settle in Goshen as the king’s preferred subjects, were enslaved and committed to hard labour. This was a blatant display of ingratitude – a total lack of appreciation for Joseph’s contribution.
Instead, the Egyptians turned a blind eye to the plight of the Hebrews around them, never objecting to the injustices decreed upon them by Pharoah. This explains why one of the ten plagues was darkness, a physical manifestation of their ingrate sightlessness. The Hebrew word for this plague is choshech, which is written with the three letters chaf-shin-chet, letters which also spell the words shachach (forgot) and kichesh (denied).
The precept of tzitzit is about remembering – the antithesis of the Egyptians’ behaviour. Hashem took us out of that land, physically and spiritually, removing us from and from us the evil of ungratefulness. The tzitzit, on the contrary, are all about gratitude, a reminder of the 613 commandments given to us after the exodus. (The numerical value of the word tzitzit, 600, added to the number of strings, eight, and knots, five, that make up each of the four fringes, serves as a mnemonic of these obligations.)
Hence, the custom to pass these fringes over our eyes each time we call out the word tzitzit when reading the third paragraph of the shema every morning. This will ensure that we aren’t struck with the blindness of the Egyptians. And, please G-d, the merit of the mitzvah will also preserve our physical eyesight.
Banner6 days ago
‘Wake up!’ say doctors, as third wave ramps up
Featured Item6 days ago
SAZF takes on Judge Desai for his conduct
Featured Item6 days ago
BDS boycott ‘creating divisions among ordinary South Africans’
Featured Item6 days ago
Kacev heads up Jewish education network that will benefit SA
Letters/Discussion Forums6 days ago
“Clearly you’re a Zionist, going around demanding shit”
Letters/Discussion Forums6 days ago
Why seek citizenship of murderous Lithuania?
Voices6 days ago
COVID 19 – the battle continues
Voices6 days ago
Like Zurich – without the chocolates