join the conversation

yesterday, i attended the jofa conference at columbia university. it was a day celebrating feminism and prompting conversation on controversial issues within the modern orthodox world. i never understood feminism nor do i consider myself a feminist. i still don't quite understand the phenomenon, even after spending nine hours at the conference listening to speakers discuss 'feminist' topics at length.

i was drawn to the conference from the moment i saw an advertisement online. the topics sounded so intriguing - ranging from mehitzahs (physical dividers between men and women that exist in most orthodox synagogues) to the creation of new rituals. there must have been over fifty classes to choose from! i was intrigued, signed up, and convinced my friend nina to sign up too.

nina and i arrived in an overtired, overly caffeinated daze. we hurried in, found seats in the back of the big auditorium, and began looking through our course list to see who we wanted to hear speak for the rest of the day. just as quickly as we began searching through our conference pamphlets, we found ourselves gazing forward, about a hundred and fifty feet away, toward the front of the room. there was a woman there, speaking about her new identity as a rabba. she was recently ordained as the first female, orthodox rabbi by a yeshiva close by. her words were mesmerizing and i quickly closed my book to listen fully. she spoke of many issues which permeated throughout the entire conference, including equality, knowledge, understanding, and dialogue. this woman standing before the few hundred women and men in the columbia auditorium, had defied the odds. not only that, she had defied the boundaries set forth for her within her religion. she questioned it, persisted, never gave up, and ultimately, prevailed in her quest to become a jewish leader - one with a title equivalent to her male counterpart.

the first class i took was on prayer through art. nina actually ditched me to go downstairs for a more heavy topic (women of the wall - i really wish i had heard that, too!) and i stayed upstairs in a small conference room with five others ranging in age from their early twenties to mid seventies. the speaker began by introducing the idea of expression through artistic dimensions and shared some of her own artwork. it was stunning. she was inspired by prayer - both communal and personal - and expressed it in a very clear way in her artwork. she then gave us worksheets to pick a prayer, personal or communal, and create our own piece of artwork. i thought for a moment and immediately knew what to create.


this quilted piece represents how i was feeling about prayer. i am the bottom right corner, sitting amidst the world. the sky is above the world, with god hovering within it. i am saying the shema blessing, which begins with the hebrew word "shema" or "listen" in english. the letters are scattered and uneven. they are going upward, toward the eternal, but are not quite making it. there is a barrier of purple between me and the prayer and between the prayer and god. it's like the words are there but the connection is not quite formed.

i went to many other classes at the conference, all of which inspired me more and more to learn about my personal role in judaism. my religion is not about my husband or my family or my rabbi. it's about myself and how i personally fit into the mold - and, how i don't fit into the mold. an example of this can be pulled from a class i went to on ritual and traditions. the speakers were incredible! they talked about how women are often excluded from ritual. this doesn't simply mean they are stuck behind the opaque mehitzah, but that the rituals are just not for them. an example of this involves a three-year-old boy. at this age, it is believed that boys should begin the process of adulthood and there is a ceremony, often involving a first hair cut, that allows this child's life and entrance toward a true childhood, to be celebrated. there is no equivalent ceremony for a girl so one of the presenters created one and called it a simcha (celebration in english) bat (daughter in english). this celebration was not simply a birthday party either. it was bringing the daughter up to the torah scroll, in front of her whole congregation, and presenting her to it and it to her. this moment was a milestone in her life and after that day, her role in the her family and community was transformed.

as i traveled from room to room throughout the day, i thought about all of the jewish people, both men and women, in my life who had given up on their faith. this is such a common theme in life. if something's too tough or if you don't agree with it, cross it off your list. that's it. but why don't we ever embrace who we are? some things are just part of us. if you hate your hair color, why not work with it instead of changing it? why do people reject religion simply on the premise of hearing one thing they don't agree with?

i also thought about the jewish men and women who i don't know personally but are very well-known in the world. the example that stuck in my mind throughout the conference was supreme court justice ruth bader ginsburg. recently, i reread the book 'stars of david', in which ruth bader ginsburg is interviewed. she was chosen to be a part of this compilation because she is 1. famous and 2. jewish. but, she has ditched the religion. she states it's not a part of her life anymore. despite being raised in a fairly observant home, she believes that the gender roles and negative attitude toward women are what drove her away from it. she gave up on something that was intrinsically part of who she was -- no, IS. who she IS. though i strongly feel that ruth bader ginsburg is one of the most influential members of american society, i often wonder who she would be if she had embraced her jewish identity from a young age and allowed it to mold the person who she has become.

in my opinion, the theme of this conference was dialogue. "join the conversation" was the term coined for the logo. this isn't a NEW concept. let me put it this way. when my students, often my 8th/9th graders at the reconstructionist synagogue i teach at, comment about hating god, disliking judaism, or thinking kosher is just plain stupid - i tell them that i love their opinions and i want to know more. once when this happened, i opened up a chumash (torah prayer book). i showed them the torah's text (on the top right) and then i said - "class, what else do you see on this page?". and of course their answers are just mumbles of "lots of hebrew". well, i then explained that this "hebrew" that they see is a dialogue that jews have created throughout our history. and then i explain that this dialogue is treated with utmost importance - we, as modern jews, listen to it in almost the same light as we listen to god's words of the actual torah! now this blows them away and i'm sure they probably don't buy it. but - it's the truth. judaism stresses dialogue, conversation, questioning - you name it. you can't have blind faith in something you don't agree with. at least i don't believe that.

listen, i'm not saying all of this orthodox business comes easy to me. i miss lobster and clam chowder more than you can imagine. but what i am saying is that i am on a lifelong quest of questioning who i am and seeking answers. i might not be entirely comfortable or accepting of everything i was born into, religion included, but i am eager to expand my knowledge of my identity instead of that of someone else.

grandma

I remember flying for the first time on my own to Florida as a little kid. My mom and dad were so worried about me but I had no fears at all. It was exciting. I don't remember the details but I know that I was so excited when I felt that first brush of air on my face as I stepped from the airplane onto the jetway. It was warm and the sun was shining through the cracks around the entrance to the airport.

My Uncle George was waiting there and after we picked up my luggage, he drove me to my grandmother's apartment in West Palm Beach. She lived in a building that was filled with other grandmas and grandpas. I remember her dining room table, probably since we still have it now. And, I remember her Swedish meatballs. They were really sweet and she served them in a giant pot. I remember her swimming pool and that her laundry machine was in her kitchen. There were mirrors in her dining room and once we sat in her bed together reading the newspaper.

And that's really all I remember.

A week ago my great Aunt died and my dad sent me the obituary. He also sent me my grandmother's from 2004. Reading her short biography brought tears to my eyes. I barely knew her for reasons that I will never truly accept or understand. I visited FL a couple times when I was very little but that was basically it. She lived far away, it was too expensive to visit, it was more important for other people to go instead of me - the list was endless. I never really accepted these excuses back then either. After screaming, crying, and protesting to go, the fights would eventually calm down and I would, once again, not be on a plane visiting West Palm Beach.

I wish I knew my grandmother. I wear her pearl necklace a lot and I feel beautiful in it. I think I can learn a lot from my relationship, or lack thereof, with my grandmother. I can learn a lot about family, both the one I come from and the one I will soon begin (b"H). I read about her accomplishments and I see clearly the person who I want to strive toward becoming. I want to be a leader, one of both my family and my community, and be the helper when help is needed.

Below is the obituary from 2004.


SOPHIE B. LIPSITT, 92

WEST PALM BEACH, Fla. -- Sophie B. Lipsitt, 92, of Arden Courts Assisted Living Residence, formerly of New Bedford, Mass., died Saturday, Oct. 23, 2004, at home. She was the widow of David J. Lipsitt.
Born in New York City, she was the daughter of the late Sidney and Rebecca (Eisenstadt) Bogorad. She lived in New Bedford since early childhood; she resided in Florida since 1973.
Mrs. Lipsitt was a longtime member of Tifereth Israel Congregation, where she was president of its Sisterhood and Hadassah. She was a member of B'nai B'rith.
For many years, she helped the blind by typing manuscripts into Braille in English and Hebrew. With a lifelong commitment to volunteerism, she was a nurse's aide during World War II, a docent at the Flagler Museum and a helper at Morse Geriatric Center in Florida. She gave freely of her time and talent to a variety of charities.
Survivors include two sons, Marc Lipsitt of West Conshohocken, Pa., and Jeff Lipsitt of Boston; three grandchildren; a stepgrandchild; and a sister, Evelyn Sacknoff of Fall River, Mass.
She was the sister of the late Samuel N. Bogorad.
Her funeral will be at 1 p.m. tomorrow at Tifereth Israel Congregation, 145 Brownell Ave., New Bedford. Burial will follow at Plainville Cemetery, New Bedford.