Rabbi Kanefsky and “…shelo asani isha”

By Susan Esther Barnes

Earlier this month, Rabbi Yosef Kanefsky published an article in which he explained why he doesn’t say the prayer that ends “shelo asani isha,” thereby initiating a flurry of discussion in the Jewish Orthodox blogging community. (I’d link to the post, but it appears to have been removed, and replaced with “A Calmer and Fuller Articulation.”)

This prayer may be unfamiliar to Reform Jewish people, since it has been omitted from the Reform prayer book. The prayer is/was part of the recitation of every day blessings, and in it the person praying thanks God for “not making me a woman.”

The bloggers who disagree with Rabbi Kanefsky include the usual arguments claiming that Orthodox practice has not changed for thousands of years (which is patently false), and that anyone who questions current practice must not really be Orthodox.

But others, including thoughtful people on Dov Bear’s blog, claim that we should continue to say this blessing because, regardless of what its intention was when it was first written, these days “almost everyone” interprets this prayer in a benign fashion.

So what do they mean by benign? First, there’s the argument that the men are required to do the time-bound mitzvot (commandments), and women are not, so what the men are doing when they say this prayer is thanking God that they get to do more commandments, and thus get a greater reward. This explanation, of course, furthers the idea that men are rewarded more than women are, which I don’t see as benign.

One reason given for why women aren’t required to do as many commandments as the men is that the women are somehow spiritually superior to the men. On the surface that’s a nice-sounding argument, but it doesn’t make any sense for a man to thank God for making him spiritually inferior.

Dov Bear himself said it makes sense to say this prayer because, “Being an Orthodox Jewish woman sucks.” As one commentor elaborated, “I'm damn thankful I'm not a woman. Who wants to get paid less for the same job? Who wants a bunch of men telling you how you're supposed to dress and how you're supposed to cover your hair? Who wants to have every intimate detail of your personal life on display and up for inspection by a man? The list goes on and on, but there's only so much time in the day.” This is benign?

Another reason given for not removing this prayer from Orthodox prayer books is that doing so won’t change the mind of misogynists anyway, so what’s the point? Well, the point is that by leaving it in, every day Orthodox Jews are reminded that the prayer book, and thus Judaism, apparently supports the idea that being a man is better than being woman. Thus, the prayer is an institutionalization of the idea that women are inferior to men. The removal of the prayer would be the removal of the endorsement of this idea by the establishment.

Although removing the prayer, by itself, will not solve the problem, the longer the institution of Judaism endorses prayers that promote the idea that women are inferior, the harder it will be to change the attitudes of Jewish misogynists. That is the point.

Only on a Plane to Israel

By Susan Esther Barnes

Please accept my apologies for typos. I'm not used to this keyboard yet and I have a very limited amount of time!

This is my first post from Israel, baruch hashem.

I'm on the plane from JFK in New York to Tel Aviv. I have the aisle seat, and in the window seat is a born-again Christian woman named Debbie from Florida who wants to engage me in a running monologue about her cell phone and whatever else springs to mind.

Presently I notice, hovering nearby, a pale young man with a beard, a black hat and tzitzit (fringes worn by Orthodox Jews). I glance at his boarding pass and see he has the seat between Debbie and me. I stand in the aisle and gesture toward the seat, but he looks anxious and simply walks further down the aisle without saying a word. I suspect the trouble is his religious beliefs prevent him from sitting between two women.

I hear another man similarly dressed say to him, "I would help if I could," and eventually the young man wanders back. I gesture toward the seat again, but he says, "I can't sit between..."

Clearly, at this point I have a choice to make. I booked the flight months ago and I want the aisle seat, where there is more room and I have easy access to the restroom. I believe in respecting, and making reasonable accomodations for, the religious beliefs of others. The phrase "Don't put a stumbling block before the blind" pops into my head, and I realize I just don't want to enable this behaviour. Maybe if he sits between two women for one flight he will realize it isn't a disaster.

The flight attendants announce a few times that the flight is full and everyone needs to sit down so we can leave the gate. Eventually, the doors are closed and the flight attendant tells the guy to sit in his seat. He refuses. The flight attendant insists, and instead the guy walks toward the back of the plane again.

Shortly, up walks a frum (Jewishly observant) woman named Dinah, who says she traded seats with the anxious young man. At first I feel a bit guilty, but as Debbie regales Dinah with tales of how she heals herself and others with the "Word of God," I am glad I was selfish and kept my assigned seat. Dinah, God love her, is a kind and patient woman who treats Debbie much more kindly than I think I would have been able to if I were sitting next to her.

I smile, because it all means without a doubt I'm on my way to Israel.