The messages were overt, not even disguised. Sometimes it took the form of biblical isogesis like my cousin so enthusiastically quoted, but sometimes no one even bothered to stick it into an authoritive textual framework. One teacher announced it straight out:“No girl should get married unless she is willing to be subservient to her husband.”
Another couched it in different terms.“No husband should feel inferior to his wife, just because she supports him,” she counseled. But while I personally agree that no one should feel inferior based on their private financial arrangements, our teacher apparently had no such faith in the self esteem of the would be male Talmud scholars- “One of my students would give her entire paycheck, unopened to her husband to deposit- so he should feel like he earned it.” Ahh, the fragile male self esteem.
The self esteem of women was apparently of lesser importance. “I used to have my daughters do chores for my sons, so as not to disturb their learning,” said another teacher, a prominent Rebetzin. I recently discovered that this practice didn’t originate from her; it originated from Rebbetzin Rishel Kotler whose biography I found lying around not long again the women’s section of a nearby shul. Rebbetzin Rishel was also praised for making herself scarce at her husband Rabbi Ahron Kotler’s deathbed, to make way for his students, his true soulmates, to be with him during his final hours.
Our teacher told us these and other stories of female self denigration with great relish, including them in her parsha curriculum on par with Rashi and Ramban. It seemed that nothing that we as females could do, could possibly be as important as the Talmud study a male could do. We heard stories about Rebbetzins in labor in one part of the house, holding in their grunts and groans, so has not to disturb their husband’s study sessions in the adjoining section (So much for the idealization of motherhood). “I don’t expect you to be at that level,” she said magnanimously. “But at least, when you’re NOT in labor, remember this story and don’t interrupt.”
I was not inspired; I often found myself feeling low, and humiliated. Unfortunately I could not articulate the source of my feelings but I now credit this curriculum at least partially for my disinterest, even aversion towards marriage and dating in the years following seminary. However, for most young women the desire to marry, and the fear of being left an old maid was strong enough for them to accept these messages.
But others may have needed stronger incentives. The school took care to inculcate them with another element of the curriculum; that of their theological dependence on men and marriage.
Though Talmud apparently was the be all end all the pinnacle of Jewish observance, it was never taught to us. That in itself was not unexpected- teaching Talmud to women is still a relatively new phenomenon. But the young women were not taught ANY of the classic halachic sources. All material was presented orally by a Rabbi standing in front of the room, with the occasional use of a popular practical guide. Fluency in original sources was limited to Tanach and commentaries and mussar sefarim, neither of which, in the long run, are thought to be authorative relative to halacha. In an institute that prided itself on its supposed high level of learning, the reason for the omission could only be ideological.
The motive of inculcating dependence on religious matters was not hidden. I once asked an instructor why this was so, why did we not, at least, study from a standard halachic text. “So you shouldn’t think you can pasken,” was his answer. “You should have been a boy!” he exclaimed with enthusiasm toward a student who had made a particularly astute point. But alas, we were females, so no matter how profound our abilities, our poor teacher was forced to continue educating us towards mediocrity, to keep us dependent on the guidance of men and of the religious establishment.
Beyond that, students were indoctrinated toward another form of religious dependence on men and marriage. No matter how much they studied the merit of their learning was dubious, since only men were commanded to do so. So, in an ingenious re-formulation of the Freudian "penis envy", the school taught that in order for our spiritual merit to be complete, it had to somehow be attached to a male. Service to a male Torah scholar was infinitely greater than anything they could do on their own, and decontextualized sources were utilized to prove that their very share in the world to come depended on it.
However, teachers were quick to correct the misconception that this philosophy burdened husbands with any expectations to actually study Torah. “If he battels , it’s none of your business,” they said. “Your not his mashgiach. It’s between him and god. As long as you do your job, supporting him, you’ll get your eternal reward.” (After all this might interfere with the ambience of most kollels which lack attendance requirements, time clocks, exams or other measures of accountability. Or worse yet, lead some wives to suggest that their husbands leave yeshiva and get a job.)
There are other ways in which students’ intellectual development and self worth were devalued. This was certainly evident in the “Chessed” (Acts of Kindness) program, or as it was euphemistically renamed in my year “Mivtza’ Shachen Tov” “Project Good Neighbor”. We were a burden to our American-Israeli neighborhood, our housemother tactfully told us, what with our alien and materialistic ways, and should do all we can to be “good neighbors,” and never, God forbid, insinuate that we were offering them our “kindness”. (Respecting the neighborhood was of paramount concern to the housemother; when a friend of ours from another seminary was mace sprayed in the Geulah shopping center, she took care to remind us how careful we must be, not to trample on the neighborhood’s exquisite spiritual sensitivities…)
As good neighbors, most of the students were sent to do housework at local families carefully screened by the school. Students cleaned floors, tended children, and peeled potatoes without a penny in compensation. The opportunity to develop a relationship with their “chessed family” was presented as an added benefit…. not for the family but for the student.
At our Shabat hosts, young women were expected to gratefully accept discourteous treatment from the men of the household. This included being completely ignored, as the head of the household would engage the other men at the table in intense conversation on torah topic which the women were not expected to know anything about. While this was going on, the female guests and the women of the household would help serve the food and chat about recipes and clothing fashions.
(I do not believe modesty was the issue: one of the most positive shabat experiences I had was at the home of a couple, whose husband kept his eyes lowered the entire meal so as not to even look at his female guests. However, he passed out bibles and had us all discussing the portion, eager to hear our insights and engaging our contributions.)
Perhaps it is unfair of me to blame the school for what went on at other people’s households. But the same thing occurred at the home of my own teacher, who seemed to have no problem being surrounded daily, the only male in a room full of adoring 18 year old females, discussing marriage, family, and all other topics, but would barely acknowledge us with a nod when we became guests in his home.
We were exposed to devaluation in other ways. I still experience today the humiliation of of watching that dormitory door lock shut behind me, knowing that with all that talk about marriage and adulthood, that I remain but a ward, a prisoner.
So what exactly did we learn, formally, in Seminary?It wasn’t all bad. For starters, we studied various books of Tanach and mussar classics. We were allowed to study midrash and agada- a first for many of us. Our midrash class especially introduced us to the basics of methodology in interpreting midrash, where some of use were shocked to learned that midrash need not always be taken literally- truly an eye opener in this fundamentalist environment.
We had weekly parsha sessions and we had classes in teaching methodology including the opportunity to give a model teaching lesson in a local elementary school.And we had tiyulim. We went on school trips to all the traditional tourist spots: Mtzada, the Kotel tunnels. We even went skiing on hermon- the school heard that some girls were planning an independent trip (horrors!) and graciously offered to handle all the details. And in our free time, without telling anyone, we attended rallies and political events.
We even went a step further than many seminaries. We had shabbatons in Israeli-Haredi communities across the country, in cities and in agricultural moshavim. What was so spectacular about this is that while there, we stayed in girls high school dormitories with Israeli students. In Israel, children from difficult or poor families and/or neighborhoods are often schooled in dormitories. It was these shabatons, more than anything else, that made my YEAR, despite all, memorable and meaningful. The seminary faculty may not even have intended it as such (they spend so much effort sheltering us every where else), but it was a rare, precious experience for American tourists: a cultural immersion in lower-class Israel.
But most of all, we learned about Kollel. Rare was a day that went by when a teacher did not advocate for it.
What about now? What will my little sister encounter?Fifteen years later, it could be that much has changed and not all is applicable. But I highly doubt it. Firstly, many of the teachers are still the same. And secondly, the stuff I hear from more recent graduates like Bubah is ominously similar.
To be sure there are some postive trends: More and more students are have access to independent Halachic and philosophical sources. Students are now encouraged towards careers and pursing their education, albeit within approved of fields of practice and educational institutions.But the Kollel focus and propaganda is as strong as ever. It seems today that women are even more gung ho about the whole idea than men. Many of them feel that only a kollell man is a socially acceptable mate. Some reluctant young men even feel pressured into the system so that the women will marry them! It seems then, that despite the obstacles, the Beis Yacov seminaries have had an astounding success in achieving their goals.
But have they? Ironically, again I think of Sara Shenierer, back to grade school when I first heard her name. “In a little town in Poland” we sang then, “sat a seamstress very sad, sewing clothing for the body, while the soul remained unclad.”Perhaps the seminaries, as they teach people what to .. err.. how to think, need to pay attention to the song too.
Another couched it in different terms.“No husband should feel inferior to his wife, just because she supports him,” she counseled. But while I personally agree that no one should feel inferior based on their private financial arrangements, our teacher apparently had no such faith in the self esteem of the would be male Talmud scholars- “One of my students would give her entire paycheck, unopened to her husband to deposit- so he should feel like he earned it.” Ahh, the fragile male self esteem.
The self esteem of women was apparently of lesser importance. “I used to have my daughters do chores for my sons, so as not to disturb their learning,” said another teacher, a prominent Rebetzin. I recently discovered that this practice didn’t originate from her; it originated from Rebbetzin Rishel Kotler whose biography I found lying around not long again the women’s section of a nearby shul. Rebbetzin Rishel was also praised for making herself scarce at her husband Rabbi Ahron Kotler’s deathbed, to make way for his students, his true soulmates, to be with him during his final hours.
Our teacher told us these and other stories of female self denigration with great relish, including them in her parsha curriculum on par with Rashi and Ramban. It seemed that nothing that we as females could do, could possibly be as important as the Talmud study a male could do. We heard stories about Rebbetzins in labor in one part of the house, holding in their grunts and groans, so has not to disturb their husband’s study sessions in the adjoining section (So much for the idealization of motherhood). “I don’t expect you to be at that level,” she said magnanimously. “But at least, when you’re NOT in labor, remember this story and don’t interrupt.”
I was not inspired; I often found myself feeling low, and humiliated. Unfortunately I could not articulate the source of my feelings but I now credit this curriculum at least partially for my disinterest, even aversion towards marriage and dating in the years following seminary. However, for most young women the desire to marry, and the fear of being left an old maid was strong enough for them to accept these messages.
But others may have needed stronger incentives. The school took care to inculcate them with another element of the curriculum; that of their theological dependence on men and marriage.
Though Talmud apparently was the be all end all the pinnacle of Jewish observance, it was never taught to us. That in itself was not unexpected- teaching Talmud to women is still a relatively new phenomenon. But the young women were not taught ANY of the classic halachic sources. All material was presented orally by a Rabbi standing in front of the room, with the occasional use of a popular practical guide. Fluency in original sources was limited to Tanach and commentaries and mussar sefarim, neither of which, in the long run, are thought to be authorative relative to halacha. In an institute that prided itself on its supposed high level of learning, the reason for the omission could only be ideological.
The motive of inculcating dependence on religious matters was not hidden. I once asked an instructor why this was so, why did we not, at least, study from a standard halachic text. “So you shouldn’t think you can pasken,” was his answer. “You should have been a boy!” he exclaimed with enthusiasm toward a student who had made a particularly astute point. But alas, we were females, so no matter how profound our abilities, our poor teacher was forced to continue educating us towards mediocrity, to keep us dependent on the guidance of men and of the religious establishment.
Beyond that, students were indoctrinated toward another form of religious dependence on men and marriage. No matter how much they studied the merit of their learning was dubious, since only men were commanded to do so. So, in an ingenious re-formulation of the Freudian "penis envy", the school taught that in order for our spiritual merit to be complete, it had to somehow be attached to a male. Service to a male Torah scholar was infinitely greater than anything they could do on their own, and decontextualized sources were utilized to prove that their very share in the world to come depended on it.
However, teachers were quick to correct the misconception that this philosophy burdened husbands with any expectations to actually study Torah. “If he battels , it’s none of your business,” they said. “Your not his mashgiach. It’s between him and god. As long as you do your job, supporting him, you’ll get your eternal reward.” (After all this might interfere with the ambience of most kollels which lack attendance requirements, time clocks, exams or other measures of accountability. Or worse yet, lead some wives to suggest that their husbands leave yeshiva and get a job.)
There are other ways in which students’ intellectual development and self worth were devalued. This was certainly evident in the “Chessed” (Acts of Kindness) program, or as it was euphemistically renamed in my year “Mivtza’ Shachen Tov” “Project Good Neighbor”. We were a burden to our American-Israeli neighborhood, our housemother tactfully told us, what with our alien and materialistic ways, and should do all we can to be “good neighbors,” and never, God forbid, insinuate that we were offering them our “kindness”. (Respecting the neighborhood was of paramount concern to the housemother; when a friend of ours from another seminary was mace sprayed in the Geulah shopping center, she took care to remind us how careful we must be, not to trample on the neighborhood’s exquisite spiritual sensitivities…)
As good neighbors, most of the students were sent to do housework at local families carefully screened by the school. Students cleaned floors, tended children, and peeled potatoes without a penny in compensation. The opportunity to develop a relationship with their “chessed family” was presented as an added benefit…. not for the family but for the student.
At our Shabat hosts, young women were expected to gratefully accept discourteous treatment from the men of the household. This included being completely ignored, as the head of the household would engage the other men at the table in intense conversation on torah topic which the women were not expected to know anything about. While this was going on, the female guests and the women of the household would help serve the food and chat about recipes and clothing fashions.
(I do not believe modesty was the issue: one of the most positive shabat experiences I had was at the home of a couple, whose husband kept his eyes lowered the entire meal so as not to even look at his female guests. However, he passed out bibles and had us all discussing the portion, eager to hear our insights and engaging our contributions.)
Perhaps it is unfair of me to blame the school for what went on at other people’s households. But the same thing occurred at the home of my own teacher, who seemed to have no problem being surrounded daily, the only male in a room full of adoring 18 year old females, discussing marriage, family, and all other topics, but would barely acknowledge us with a nod when we became guests in his home.
We were exposed to devaluation in other ways. I still experience today the humiliation of of watching that dormitory door lock shut behind me, knowing that with all that talk about marriage and adulthood, that I remain but a ward, a prisoner.
So what exactly did we learn, formally, in Seminary?It wasn’t all bad. For starters, we studied various books of Tanach and mussar classics. We were allowed to study midrash and agada- a first for many of us. Our midrash class especially introduced us to the basics of methodology in interpreting midrash, where some of use were shocked to learned that midrash need not always be taken literally- truly an eye opener in this fundamentalist environment.
We had weekly parsha sessions and we had classes in teaching methodology including the opportunity to give a model teaching lesson in a local elementary school.And we had tiyulim. We went on school trips to all the traditional tourist spots: Mtzada, the Kotel tunnels. We even went skiing on hermon- the school heard that some girls were planning an independent trip (horrors!) and graciously offered to handle all the details. And in our free time, without telling anyone, we attended rallies and political events.
We even went a step further than many seminaries. We had shabbatons in Israeli-Haredi communities across the country, in cities and in agricultural moshavim. What was so spectacular about this is that while there, we stayed in girls high school dormitories with Israeli students. In Israel, children from difficult or poor families and/or neighborhoods are often schooled in dormitories. It was these shabatons, more than anything else, that made my YEAR, despite all, memorable and meaningful. The seminary faculty may not even have intended it as such (they spend so much effort sheltering us every where else), but it was a rare, precious experience for American tourists: a cultural immersion in lower-class Israel.
But most of all, we learned about Kollel. Rare was a day that went by when a teacher did not advocate for it.
What about now? What will my little sister encounter?Fifteen years later, it could be that much has changed and not all is applicable. But I highly doubt it. Firstly, many of the teachers are still the same. And secondly, the stuff I hear from more recent graduates like Bubah is ominously similar.
To be sure there are some postive trends: More and more students are have access to independent Halachic and philosophical sources. Students are now encouraged towards careers and pursing their education, albeit within approved of fields of practice and educational institutions.But the Kollel focus and propaganda is as strong as ever. It seems today that women are even more gung ho about the whole idea than men. Many of them feel that only a kollell man is a socially acceptable mate. Some reluctant young men even feel pressured into the system so that the women will marry them! It seems then, that despite the obstacles, the Beis Yacov seminaries have had an astounding success in achieving their goals.
But have they? Ironically, again I think of Sara Shenierer, back to grade school when I first heard her name. “In a little town in Poland” we sang then, “sat a seamstress very sad, sewing clothing for the body, while the soul remained unclad.”Perhaps the seminaries, as they teach people what to .. err.. how to think, need to pay attention to the song too.
