articles

African Judaism in context

2009-11-03T06:23:00.000-08:00

(continued from here)

Presumably their are lots of benefits to be gained by incorporating new, highly motivated members into the larger Jewish community- diversifying the gene pool, increasing political clout, and injecting a bolus of inspiration into some of our very tired, shvache jewish communities- a drive and an inspiration that newcomers often express. The exotic touch, of course, increases the interest and excitement.

But what are the potential costs?

1. Historicity.

This may not apply to all, such as the Abuyadaya, who are upfront about their history as converts. But we should not give credence to the myth of Israelite origins. If myth is placed on par with history, than our history is downgraded to myth. Indeed, sympathizers of African Jewish movements are often partial the the Khazar legend- the idea that Ashkenazi Jewry descends from a kingdom in Caucasus- and such a counterclaim is often leveled by people whose Jewish origin is dubious. (put some links here)

The historical relatedness of the Jewish people, and its historical continuity with the Judaean exiles is especially important in light of the ongoing (and increasing) challenges to the legitimacy of the Jewish connection to the land of Israel.

Politics aside, intellectual honesty and scholarly accuracy has value in its own right.

I have been told that African hunter-gatherers did not drink milk and meat together (They do, however, drink blood). I also have a photo of a man from a herding tribe wearing a box-shaped amulet around his arm, evocative of tefillin. Neither of these informants made any claim to, or had any interest in Israelite ancestry (yet). Circumcision too, is a very common practice throughout Africa (though many also circumcise females- something alien to the bible). Are we then to believe that the entire Africa descended from Israel? Is it not more likely that Israel and Judah were influenced, and even part of African cultures? Is it not more likely that we come from them, rather than they come from us? Couldn't we obtain a better understanding of our own culture, if we were to examine tefillin and circumcision it their African contexts, rather than try to fit their culture into our particular paradigm?

It may seem ironic, but what offers us a greater continuity with our Afro-Semitic pastoralist ancestors? Surely recognizing the African influence on our culture would acheive that more accurately than imagining than the whole Africa descends from us.

2. Weakening of Jewish peoplehood.

Some make the claim that Judaism is a religion, not a people. But if we are to define it as such, we lose many more people than we gain. Jewish religion today is completely fragmented involving many opposing beliefs. Peoplehood is what we share- a common heritage and kinship, and hopefully, if Israel should survive, a common future. If Jewishness can be stretched to include anyone and everyone worldwide who so chooses, it loses some of its distinctive meaning.

Judaism has always accepted converts. Converts and their supporters often point out that halachically, a GER is as Jewish as anyone else. However I believe we must make a differentiate between individual converts, who can be screened (though what screening criteria is a subject to wide for this essay). More importantly, individuals can be absorbed into the whole relatively easily, much as any immigrant can, as opposed to a collective.

3. Divisiveness
The question of who is a legitimate convert is one of the most divisive issues plaguing the Jewish world today (Put some links here). In such a climate, why increase the tension, divisiveness and bitterness? Especially since in most cases, the primary casualty is likely to be the convert themself. Quasi acceptance creates a Jewish sub-class.

The creation of a Jewish sub-class, in turn, is almost guaranteed to lead to a backlash against the mainstream (the Khazaria legend is often used for this purpose). In the case of African Jewry, it is likely to take the form of accusations of racism. This is encouraged by the fact that racism is real in Jewish society.

But in the case of the outreach activists, one wonders if they are informing the newcomers of the controversial nature of their inclusion, or if they are simply waxing enthusiastic, ultimately leaving them shocked and forlorn when their Jewishness is questioned. Gershom Sizomu, for one, seems to be unawares- he seems truly bewildered why some people say "but there aren't any jews from-- a certain part of the world." His wording is far more delicate than his handlers, who appear to be priming them for racism. In a conversation in 2000 with a Kulanu activist, I was specifically told that "we encourage them not to move to Israel... because of the racism they will experience," as if that (though true) was the only barrier. Yes, THOSE Jews are racist, but WE are the good ones who will transport you to America and bankroll your community.

(BTW I don't buy that supposed color blindness- until I see them doing the same thing for a white community in the USA, I will continue to suspect white jewish guilt may be at play).

Ok that's my two cents, loud and clear. Perhaps to the point of being offensive.

But what if i would have had that half Igbo kid?

Would I be singing a different tune?

Cultural Retention and Ethnic Identity Among Ethiopian Israeli Youth

2009-10-10T08:35:00.001-07:00

Cultural Retention and Ethnic Identity Among Ethiopian Israeli Youth
Soc 8500
Submitted by Ki Sarita
5/24/09

Introduction

“This year I decided not to eat cheese on Passover, just as our Kessim (Ethiopian spiritual leaders)” says Ziva Mekonen Dagu (2009), in an introduction to an article on the Passover customs as practiced by the Jews of Ethiopia. “The sudden abrupt loss [of our heritage] out of the need to assimilate among the rest of the Jewish people is a tragedy. As the transitional generation, it is up to us preserve it.” She inserts a qualification: “Not out of self segregation, and not, God forbid, in opposition to Halacha (prescribed Orthodox Jewish practice)” before the passionate conclusion: “It is our moral and ethical obligation as Jews.”
The paradoxical nature of these choices represent a conundrum that faces Ethiopian Israeli youth today: To assimilate or to withdraw? To adopt the practices of the new homeland, or to reclaim their traditional culture, which belonged to a land and lifestyle that no longer exists?

EMAIL ME FOR FULL ARTICLE

African Judaism in context

2009-09-29T02:05:00.001-07:00

(continued from here)

But still, why should that bother us? What is it our concern whether or not African Jews value their tribal heritage or not- isn't that their own decision to make? Should we not be honored that they have chosen us, rather than Christianity, now that they have since adopted the Biblical paradigm that we all share? With the dwindling of the Jewish birthrate worldwide, and attrition via assimilation, does adopting new members not strengthen us?

Still, Jewish tradition opposes proselytization. In that vein, I venture to say that yes, it is our concern whether Africans value their heritage or not. Don't we traditionally attempt to dissuade prospective converts, much as Naomi did to Ruth, by encouraging them to seek meaning and fulfillment in their own heritage?

There are those who claim that since the tradition against prosetylization arose as a result of centuries of anti semitism, it is outdated today. But that sentiment is not mainstream. On the contrary, centuries as targets of proselytization has made it even more distasteful to most Jews.

Kulanu itself claims that it does not proselytize, but only offers assistance to those who reach out to us (personal communication, 2000).

But is that correct? If bringing community members to America so that they can go back and teach their communities, or arranging holiday missions from other Jewish communities is not proselytization, it certainly skates perilously close. And offering financial assistance in my opinion certainly crosses that line. For Kulanu to
-fund a challa-cover-factory in sefwi,
-health care facilities, business cooperatives jewish day schools (open to non Abayudaya as well) in Uganda, offering a hebrew as well as a secular education,
-fundraise for free room and board for Igbo Remy Ilona to come study in Brandeis (the wildest dream of many an African student),
-channelling their assistance towards the general population THROUGH the abayudaya community,
creates a financial incentive for conversion, and will almost certainly promote ever more and newer devotees to "reclaim" their Jewish heritage. Individually, as a visitor in Africa, accorded celebrity status wherever I went, I felt lonely and objectified at the bevy of admirers following me, always waiting the inevitable turn in the discussion towards charity, fundraising, and somehow bringing them to the west. In the same way, on a collective level the association of my religion with material prosperity is a debasement, not an honor.

(I certainly do not oppose aid to Africa, as long as it is carried out on a non-sectarian basis in the manner of organizations such as AJWS, Ve'Ahavta and the like).

Moreover, the very visible fostering of connections between the communities with Western Jews, and the resultant status it accords them, sucks Judaism into the Christian missionary paradigm as an entry portal to the West and Westernism. Ironically, Judaism as a portal to Westernism is contrary to the motivation of liberal American Jews who reach out to the African communities specifically for the sake of multiculturalism and diversity.

(See for example http://bechollashon.jewishresearch.org/projects/research.php; this is only one of numerous sources that explicitly identify their motivations as such. This is obvious in a way; it is hard to imagine them engaging in such an enthusiastic response towards a hypothetical American Christian church that suddenly decided that it wanted to be Jewish, or bankrolling their development even if they came from rural Appalachia.)

But in reality, the practices of exporting American Jewish practice to non-Jewish communities, does not seem serve the purpose of multiculturalism but its opposite.
For example, Kulanu boutique sells Challa covers from Sefwi to assist the community. Jews who buy these may think they are purchasing authentic homemade traditional African Jewish art. I know I initially did, when during a visit to Sefwi 7 years ago, I was asked by a community leader to transport a batch of the factory-made items to the US for retail. But the leader's humorous mispronunciation of "tchalla" (with an anglicized ch as in witch) hinted that this was not his own original culture at all that he was commodifying and exporting. No- it was a foreign culture with a foreign name, that had been exported to him.

The claim that there is no proselytizing going on becomes even harder to defend, as African Judaism continues to take shape suspiciously like our own. Without detracting from their meaning and beauty, a ritualized challa cover, as well kippot so kindly donated by American Jews, are symbols specific to modern Ashkenazi Jewry. They are not biblical nor even rabbinic mitzvas. And why is Gershom Sizomu boasting (here) that "we feel we can not leave our women behind" by holding gender-egalitarian services, if not for the fact that this such a central issue in the Conservative Jewish movement which ordained him? Far be it from me to object to any movement for equality for women, but isn't it a bit disingenuous to claim that no proselytization is going one, when applied to a community that only recently, within this generation, still accepted polygamy?

Certainly, there is much work to be done in the field of Jewish multiculturalism. My generation has witness the end of the only indigenous African Jewish culture with the transplant of Ethiopian Jewry to Israel, and we are currently witnessing the end of the unique Yemeni Jewish culture as the last Jews flee anti-Semitism in Yemen.The past few generations have seen an unprecedent assimilation and dissappearance of innumerable Jewish cultures, that have melted into the dominant Ashkenaz or a watered down Israeli pan-Sephardi form of practice, to say nothing of the rapid assimilation of into American Western culture. Outside of the Hasidic world, how many American Jews today speak Yiddish? Ladino? Judaeo Arabic? How many synagogues incorporate liturgy from Persia or from Caucasus? Perhaps the Jewish outreach activists would do better to search in their own backyard to protect their dissappearing heritages. It is a curious parallel between the Jewish multiculturalists and their African friends that both seek to shore up their own flagging identities, seeking it outside, in the heritage of the other.

BUT IS IT GOOD FOR THE JEWS?
(continued here)

African Judaism in context

2009-09-15T16:48:00.001-07:00

Intro:
There are at least three African groups, sponsored and assisted by the Kulanu organization, that appeared to have embraced modern Judaism. I do not include the Ethiopians who have a Jewish tradition going back centuries. I may compare and contrast to movements in the African Diaspora, such as the Hebrew Israelites. These the Abuyadaya in Uganda, Twi members of the Sefwi region, and members of the Nigerian Igbo.

Of these, the Abayudaya have the longest Jewish history, beginning as a small sect following a charismatic leader, who rejected Christianity following his political displacement by the Christian British colonial officials. (See this article for the story, as well as an detailed insight into the interection between religioni and colonial politics).

They attempted to follow Biblical Judaism as per their understanding of the Old Testament. In the 1990s they reached Kulanu, the organization largely responsible for raising awareness amongst American Jews about these African communities, with the hope of practicing normative "Rabbinic" Judaism and becoming part of the larger Jewish people.

The Sefwi residents, also previously Christian, go back to a leader in the 1970's (personal communication from a community member)who had a vision that he was an Israelite and that he should return to his roots. The Igbos are even more recent, although the first suggestion that they may be of Hebraic persuasion appeared in the 1970's as well (see the book The Igbo: Jews in Africa? by Igbo-Jewish activist Remy Ilona). Upon checking the Kulanu website the other day, I notice the Rwanda Tutsis appear to be jumping on the bandwagon as well. And during a trip to Masai territory in East Africa, I was told by a (Christian) community leader that the "Masai are the children of Israel".

American Jewish multicultural initiatives have embraced these as their own.
Members of the conservative movement in particular has been especially involved in outreach to the Abayudaya, sending a bet din to Uganda, arranging for halachic conversions and ordaining one of its members as a Rabbi. Beyond sending teachers, Kulanu has also engaged in financial sponsorship of the communities development, sometimes involving other communities in their development and income generation efforts which offers the Abayudaya a leadership role in the area. They are also engaged in a smaller income generation project in Sefwi.

(I've also read a bit about the same dynamic going on amongst the Bnei Menashe community of India, an indigenous Asian people originally proselytized to evangelical christianity. Since somebody had a vision in 1951, they been claiming Israelite roots. They made connections with the Amishav movement of Israel and were being converted and brought to Israel until the Indian government objected to the proselytization of its citizens).

Jewish visitors to some of these communities wax eloquent (many accounts included on the Kulanu website) on how devout and heartfelt, these communities Jewish practice is, how they are moved by the devotion, sincerity and sense of authenticity. They point excitedly to remnants of supposed "Hebrew" practices, no matter how farfetched, eg circumcision which is ubiqitious throughout Africa, or a history of animal sacrifices in pre-colonial times, and enthusiastically proclaim to have found their long lost brothers and point to a rosy future for an intercultural multiracial, new face of Judaism.

Yet for all these detailed reports about sabbath dinners and wedding ceremonies, the background context of these developments is sorely missing which is, of course, African Christianity, although it is very hard to ignore the tremendous influence of Christianity in shaping African communities. In fact, it is clear that the very introduction of Judaism arrived via Christian missionaries, yet Christianity is barely mentioned except as a historical bynote, not as an influential force and encompassing context for these developments.

The devout religiosity displayed by the African Jews, may be seem more authentically "Jewish" to those accustomed to the typical staid liberal American shul. But the devotion is hardly unique to Jews. Even a casual visitor like myself in Africa can not help but be struck by the devout, in-your-face influence of Christianity.

On Sundays, churches warble with African hymns to Jesus. Street signs and small shops contain the names of god and biblical phrases "God's Glory Convenience Store" or some such. The devotees can not always explain their fervor in logical terms- Many young man aspires to be a preacher, claiming himself "called." Men as well as women claim "he called me" as the reason for their adoption of Christianity. Tribal religions are largely displaced; practiced by a small minority. In places like Nigeria, Christianity has been around for generations, so much so that to many it is as essential even to their identity as Igbos (personal communication by Igbo friend). In other areas it is much more recent.

Regardless, the history of Christianity as introduced by missionaries has been one that has been opposed, for better or for worse, with local traditions, and has been strongly associated with colonial efforts. And while some African writers would wish to make the case that Christianity has BECOME an African religion, it seems to me (from my admittedly limited exposure) that Christianity is still very strongly associated with Westernism, modernity, health care, education and economic prosperity, in contradistinction to the old, "primitive" ways of living.

If you are a white person visiting Africa you will immediately be assumed a Christian. You will also immediately be assumed to have money, or if not, then at the very least you must be bosom buddies with people who are. You will be asked for money wherever you go. But beyond that, if you are befriended by one of these many up and coming wannabe pastors, you will surely at some point be asked to network for him with major American Christian fundraising organizations.

This is not to question the local religious sincerity; in fact in my opinion it enhances their credibility: Who would not love and worship the source of such blessing and prosperity? How easy it must be to choose it over the failed ways of the past. (The famous Indian chief Seattle himself converted to Christianity after witnessing his old world lost.... I visited the place where he is buried in a churchyard cemetery, having chosen the name "NOAH" for himself).

On the one hand, I kind of respect this resistance to the Christian Western machine. But on the other, I feel it is the same dynamic as Christianity, just manifesting in a different form. Why is it necessary for a Masai or an Igbo to imagine to be descendants of Israelites? Why is it not enough for them to take pride in being Masai or Igbo, in a history of a rich, indigenous African culture?

(For firsthand example of how flimsy the "Israelite" claims are, I encourage you to read the most extensive defense of the subject by Remy Ilona, the man who has "excavated" Ibo Jewish history. Unfortunately, Remy's book seems to have been pulled and I could not find it available anywhere at this time. For a classic depiction of precolonial Igbo lifestyle, see the classic novel Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe.)

The Abayudaya, on the other hand, are honest and upfront about their status as converts. But why was it necessary for the Abayudaya to abandon their Old Testament practice which they adopted one hundred years ago, and adopt Rabbinic/ Conservative Jewish practice? Their Rabbi, Gershom Sizomu states (here) "The Christians don't accept us as christians, the Muslims don't accept us as muslims... and now the Jews don't accept us as Jews, so who are we???" But why is it not enough for him to be Abayudaya? Is Judaism a collective sweep up for all non-Christians?

But in a way, Sizomu has a point. Because after Christian colonialism, what roots can he return too?

The missionaries may have looked down at the Africans for their primitiveness, but they still valorized the primitive culture described the Old Testament. Judaism then, is the answer.

Judaism is the primary competition to Christianity- in the heart of hearts of many Christians, we remain the source, the mother religion, the chosen people. So, though cultural knowledge and pride has been stripped by Christianity and colonialism, Judaism offers an opportunity to assert an alternate identity, but in colonialist terms, within a Christian paradigm.

But still, why should that bother us? Should we not be flattered ....more

Outsiders Part III

2009-03-13T05:19:00.000-07:00

continued from outsiders (Full story has been kept private; email me w/ your identity if you would like to see more)

It was Passover Eve.

Family Time again.The house had undergone its annual transformation to a spaceship; kitchen surfaces covered everywhere with foil paper and metallica. Huge boxes of hand baked Matza stood in the living room, while on the table, piles of romaine lettuce soaked in vinegar, to draw out any bugs. The aroma of Passover soup wafted out the window onto the porch where it mingled with the smell of burnt pizzas from the toaster oven, banished from the house together with all bread products. By now, the pre-pesach pizzas on the porch were as much ritual as the four cups of wine at the seder, and evoked nearly as much giggling.

My brother was nowhere to be seen in this idyllic picture of family camaraderie. And if truth be told, no one really missed him. The atmosphere was much more chill in his absence. You didn’t have to be on guard as for a bee, waiting for the next outburst.

He was officially barred from the household until agreeing to undergo a drug screen. It didn’t seem there was any hope to end the stalemate by the next day.

But Pesach is family time.

Apparently this situation was common in the Yeshiva; the rabbi was expecting it and duly invited my brother to his own home for the Passover Seder.
All of a sudden I knew what I must do. My heart pounded, dizziness overtook me and I heard ringing in my ears as for the first time in months, I picked up the phone. “Yitz. Tell them to set an extra place for me, because I’m going to be there with you.”

Because Pesach is Family Time.

A hero is no braver than any one else, just braver for five minutes longer. And the essence of heroism is self trust . Was it only five minutes later that I began to doubt the rightness of what I had done? It seemed like a few lifetimes.
“Well, if that’s what you want,” said someone, I don’t remember who. I couldn’t tell it they were happy or sad about it.
That was all. No one scolded. No one threatened. No one needed to.
Help.
What have I done.
How am I going to?!

I always wanted to be a hero. But if it is in the small, private moments of our lives that heros are made, rather than the thunderous dramas of battlefields and courtrooms, then it was in those few moments that I chose the path of mediocrity. As I teetered on the family fence poised between inside and out, I let myself slowly fall to the ground- inside. I called back Yitzie and cancelled.

Because Pesach is Family Time.

Time passes but does it heal all wounds? Ostensibly so; my brother is now a law-abiding citizen with a job, a wife and a kid. Having recovered from my seminary years, drifting into liberal Jewish as well as secular circles, I am now much more the family outsider than he, while he has put the black hat back on his head and attends synagogue like clockwork. I’m sure his Yeshiva considers him a success story... And on late nights between jobs, they meet at the nearest hamburger joint to chow over meat, drink beer, and reminisce about the good ole times, and I wonder if I’ve dreamed up the whole story.

But the evidence can not be denied. The cuddly little boy who wrote me love letters has disappeared. In his place is a stern silent man, a repressive parent, an island who never cries. "Remember the time you kicked me out of the house?" he laughs at the dinner table, as if it's the funniest thing in the world. Without stopping for breath, he turns to the preschooler fidgeting in his seat. “Quiet, you creepy little thing! Don't let me hear your whiny voice again!" Sticks and stones may break bones, but names will never hurt me.I look at that child, so bright and affectionate, sensitive and articulate, and I wonder what his future will be like, and how he will change over the next ten years.

Can burned bridges be rebuilt? Superficially, I suppose, like when it comes to borrowing a car or babysitting a child. It helps that we now live a couple of blocks away, and he often calls to see what he can do for me. I try to be a good Auntie to my nephew, who gives him the kind of attention that I can no longer give his father, and who delights in the childish spontaneity that so irks him.

Pesach is still family time. When this year I opted out of my parent’s seder, intimidated both by the numerous holiday restrictions for three days, and the inevitable grilling about my unmarriedness, I got an urgent email from my mom. “Please,” she wrote. “Please be with family. At least go to Yitzie’s. Just for Seder.” And I did, though the irony was lost on everyone else. But once I phoned him to express my regrets over the past. “Are you drunk?” he responded.

Some doors, once closed, are not to be reopened. Some words are are to remain unsaid. The past is to remain buried on dusty closet shelves and in old letter boxes.

Although it’s never truly buried.

And never really past .

OutSiders contd.

2009-02-02T11:16:00.000-08:00

continued from outsiders
At 12, he was growing up. He wore a leather jacket, lifted weights and tried to pick up some karate. He didn’t seem interested in sharing stories and opinions as we had in the past, preferring to spend his time tinkering with machinery. Under the newly gruff exterior, he seemed pleased to see me, but he was no longer my honorary sister.... Though no entourage of neighborhood boys followed him to our yard, as they had with top gun, he made do with some of his younger siblings as followers, bribing them with promises of sweets.

It looked like his life was taking an upturn, but there were subtle signs otherwise. The former verbally precocious child now practiced a studied silence. He rarely smiled; rarely made eye contact for that matter. He maintained a stone like facial expression- and a rock feels no pain and an island never cries. “It’s just his age,” said my mom, but I didn't know.

And yes, there had been pain. Despite the tough guy attitude, or perhaps because of it, the victim role followed him. Only, this time it was at school, and not even from the kids. This time it was from the adults. It should have been his time to shine, but the Yeshiva apparently didn’t have much use for creativity and spontaneity. Early on in the year, he had been picked on, and eventually struck by a teacher. My parents chose to transfer him to another school. But that didn’t turn out as expected. If anything, the new school was even worse when it came to corporeal punishment. I do remember my brother reporting one incident: A teacher disciplining a kid (a different kid, I hoped) for fighting in the hallway. “Whack, Whack. Keep your hands to yourself!” Whack.”

He reported that story nonchalantly, even flippantly, though I could barely contain my outrage. However, a couple of nights later when I found Yitzie teasing his little siblings in my folks absence, I forgot about my moral outrage as I bodily removed Yitzie from the house and slammed the door behind him. After all, I was the adult of the home now. It wasn’t easy; he was stronger than I remembered. Panting, I locked the door, waiting for the inevitable protests, but they didn’t come.

But not all adults were invincible; there were other outlets for retaliation, such as the “English” (secular studies) teacher Stauber. Michael Stauber was a newcomer to the community, a BT- an Americanized Jew. “Hi Stubby! Hi Stubby!” my brother would stage whisper up the aisle. He would taunt him, mimicking his non-Yiddishized, Midwestern American accent. But to his credit, Stauber did not retaliate. In fact, he spent many long phone calls with my dad brainstorming on how to make lessons more stimulating, how to keep Yitzie better occupied in class. But it was to no avail; Stubby Stauber remained a safer target for the former "Yitzie Pitzie", since only religious teachers were allowed to hit.

I finished the seminary year and took a camp summer job. But when that was done, with no forseeable educational, job, or romantic prospects save blind dates in boring hotel lobbies with black hatted bochurim, I got on a plane for another year of seminary, just in time for the September holiday season… and Yitzie’s thirteenth birthday. As a girl, I never had a bar mitzvah myself, so I reasoned that it wasn’t such a big deal. Surely not enough to miss the festival season in Jerusalem. I thought I was being independent. I didn’t realize I was weaving myself into a cocoon.

Back at the seminary I quickly slipped back into the hyper-religious mode, renouncing television, movies and downtown Jerusalem with its nightclubs and shopping malls. But phone calls kept disturbing the sanctity. “I just wanted to inform you,” said my mom as if telling me about a funeral, “Yitzie was suspended from his Yeshiva.” What had he done? Something about inappropriate magazines. Hanging around local gas stations after curfew. I didn’t want to know more but she was clearly distraught, seeking my support and advice. “He stays for hours in his room, not talking to a soul, listening to all kind of lewd music on his walkman,” she confided. “What should I do? Should I confiscate it?” How did I get involved in this conflict, I wondered. “You used to listen to that sort of music, back when you were having some trouble,” she explained, as if she had heard. “Is it really very destructive? Perhaps I should sneak it away and he’ll think he lost it.”

Oh. So that’s what had happened to my slit skirt that I had proudly bought with my babysitting money when I was in ninth grade. I would have been furious if I had known at the time. But that was in the long distant past and I had since crossed the fence: I only had to look down at my ankle length skirt and baggy high collared shirt to agree that yes, mom ought to be very concerned about the music, and underhanded action was surely her parental prerogative.

But things did not get better. He had temperamental rants towards his parents and harassed his little sisters. He was arrested by the police for. And he smoked on the Sabbath. It didn't take long until he was ejected from the Yeshiva for good, and placed into a new Yeshiva, for “kids at risk.”

“If you speak to Yitzie, tell him….” My mom would say. She was afraid to provoke an outburst, but she was concerned that the Yeshiva was housing the students, many of whom had drug records and criminal connections way more extensive than Yitzie’s, in city apartments with minimal supervision. In truth, I had no contact with him myself, but I’d nod my head and agree. I’d go back to my dorm room and try to ignore my splitting headache. The conversation replayed rhythmically in my head: City apartments, minimal supervision. An unbidden thought popped up. And where are you, goody two shoes? it said. I squashed the thought with an extra strength Tylenol. After all, I was a mature adult now, and my mom’s ally, wasn’t I?

It was Passover Eve.
Family Time again.

OutSiders III

Seminary contd.

2009-01-01T07:43:00.001-08:00

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 parshat hashavua 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, a la Freud, in order for their 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 battles, it’s none of your business,” they said. “Your not his mashgiah. 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.

All I need to know i learned in Seminary

2009-01-01T07:33:00.000-08:00

“Sara Imeinu couldn’t have children,” my cousin Buba reports. Flown in special from her yeshiva in Israel for the occasion, She’s been invited to deliver a dvar Torah, to show off her advanced Torah learning, to all the friends and relatives assembled at the occasion of her grandparents anniversary. Her grandparents beam as she continues: “She couldn’t have children, because she was too dominant. She was too unfeminine…” When I confront her about the apparent misogyny , she looks confused. “I don’t know,” she shrugs, “I guess I just wasn’t thinking.”

Not thinking. I’d like to be shocked, but I can’t be; after all, I’d been through it myself years ago.

I recall sitting in a classroom along with other teenage girls, all spell bound at the bearded, dynamic Rabbi seated facing us from the front of the classroom.“I’m teaching you how to think for yourself,” he challenges.He’s busy attacking the lyrics of the song NO JEW WILL BE LEFT BEHIND. “Some Jews will be left behind,” he announces. “Some of you have have never challenged what you heard before!” “Wow I never thought of that,” says one girl, and the teacher beams in approval. “He’s my world,” the student announces dreamily after class. “He’s my world.”

Thus was thinking called.So I wasn’t shocked, only dismayed that after so many years, things hadn’t changed. And as I watch my baby sister, a high school senior, prepare for such an immersion, I am more than a bit concerned.

One would expect that a school would endeavor to provide the best Torah education to its students in the goal of making them knowledgeable and empowered Jews. Fifteen years ago, I attended seminary, where I expected just such an experience. The Seminary I attended was described as a school for mainstream Bais-Yacov type graduates. I arrived at seminary hopeful yet apprehensive, knowing I might face restrictive rules, but eagerly anticipating a stimulating intellectual environment that would compensate. I hoped I might finish the year with new friends and relationships and perhaps with some direction and assistance on how I might use my talents to make a contribution to the Jewish community.

I was frustrated on all these accounts.

The bearded Rabbi may have tried to convince us that he was “teaching us how to think for ourselves” by mocking popular culture as he quoted Talmudic half statements, which we had to accept on faith having no tools to respond. Other teachers didn’t even pretend. My friend had her ten page paper disqualified due to her original thesis, ie. one that had not been taken directly from a book or a Rabbi. The disapproving teacher happened to be considered one of the most dynamic and intellectual in the program.

I fared no better when I hooked up with a friend who had come from a more modern orthodox background, who sought out connections among the religious Zionist community. We made up to spend the High Holidays. When I offered that information when interrogated about my holiday plans (we were warmly and sweetly interrogated on a regular basis about our whereabouts) the principals and housemother descended upon me in masse, offering me various prize holiday placements to get me to reconsider, telling me that I didn’t really want to go there, how that would be religious step down.

So much for encouraging us to think for ourselves.On the contrary, they tried to protect us at every turn from exposure to influences other than the accepted school party line. Even frum wasn’t frum enough. Girls who wanted to go to Safet for Shabat were told to wait for the school shabaton… “We don’t want you to go alone, you may meet people who will confuse you.” The old city of Jerusalem- where hundreds of children, teens, elderly, native as well tourists can be found chilling peacefully on any given day- was off limits as well, ostensibly for security reasons.

So instead of trying to open my mind, I found staff trying to stunt independent thought and creativity. Instead of conveying a message of motivation to achieve and to excel, the school valorized subservience and self denigration. Instead of finishing the year with pride and motivation, I arrived home with longer skirts and sleeves to be sure, but with a holier-than-thou attitude which masked an identity confusion, lack of direction, and low self esteem. And I remember a friend, a very gifted girl, turning to god saying Why? Why did you make me so intellectual?

Why? Why would an institution of higher learning seek to educate according to these values?If the goal of the Bais Yaacov Seminary is not to expand student’s mind, increase her knowledge, or love of Israel, that what is it?

"Sara Shenierer is credited with saving Torah Jewry," I have often heard said of the founder of the Bais Yaacov movement. Before Sara Shenirer, girls in most communities received barely any Jewish education at all. But educating girls, according the speaker, was not enough of an accomplishment in itself. According to them, the primary accomplishment was that if not for her, young men studying Torah in Kollel would have no one to marry.

I believe, therein lies the key. The Kollel system today is a system in which entire communities of young men are expected to study Talmud and eschew secular education or vocation, while being subsidized by the community, parents and in laws, and wives. So if the goal of the Bais Yaacov Seminary is not to expand student’s mind, increase her knowledge, or love of Israel, it is must be that the primary goal of the Bais Yaacov seminary is to mold a new generation of domesticated, hard working, subservient, and intellectually dependent female adherents to the Kollel system.

Continued at

http://kisaritaarticles.blogspot.com/2009/01/seminary-contd.html