Women of the Wall
The New York Times recently published an article on the arrest of Nofrat Frenkel in Jerusalem. Frenkel, a 28-year-old medical student, is a member of the group known as “Women of the Wall,” which meets regularly at the Western Wall to sing, pray, and read Torah. She was arrested while wearing tallit – fringes – and carrying a Torah while in the plaza behind the Kotel barriers.
This story spoke to me for several reasons. For this blog post, I’ll set aside the implications it raises for the state of Israel, and focus on the personal. Visiting the Western Wall was a very exciting experience for me, but it was also a depressing one. I’d seen photographs before, and I’d known, of course, that there would be a mechitzah, but I had no concept of how little space was accorded to the women. The women’s side is so small that the women are bunched up, praying on top of each other, struggling for a touch of wall, while the men have a vast space in which to spread out or harmoniously congregate as they wish. As a feminist, I am very much in awe of the courage of the Women of the Wall, who retain their orthodoxy while claiming their right to religious practices they feel called to.
The Western Wall
I find this event to be relevant to Fringes because – apart from the literal involvement of fringes – it reminds me that the many peripheries of Judaism are not necessarily in accordance with each other. We have launched this project as if the fringes of Judaism stand together, united through some vague connection of marginalization. Of course, this could hardly be farther from the case. While we as a magazine would welcome the perspectives of a radical Orthodox feminist and a Haredi rabbi, it is probably naïve to expect that they would consent to be published alongside one another.
This article also challenges my own commitment to the fringes of Judaism. As I’ve said, were I to “pick sides” – and it is admittedly hard for me to avoid doing this – I would “side” with the Women of the Wall. However, I do believe very strongly in respecting religion and religious people; everyone should be allowed to practice in whatever way they find to be most important and true to them. Accordingly, I believe the Ultra-Orthodox who were offended by the women at the wall, and who desire a space to pray that suits their needs, should certainly be entitled to what they want. It seems that these two groups cannot coexist side-by-side without serious – and perhaps damaging – compromise. They, and I, are left with something of a conundrum.
What happens when elements of others’ religious practices or beliefs conflict with my core ideals? My rosy-hued “Live and Let Live” policy frequently contradicts my personal philosophy of pursuing what I think is right. I could use as an example my commitment to gay marriage. This is a cause that I feel deeply and, yes, righteously passionate about. I know that I am right, and I know that nothing will shake me of that. Am I no different, then, from the religious fundamentalists? It’s an easy way out to say that I respect beliefs as long as they’re kept private. That is, if you don’t believe that gays should marry, that’s fine, but don’t try to pass laws about it. Again, I contradict myself, as I am certainly doing everything I can to pass laws – and I also have to acknowledge that marching and protesting and activism are fundamental elements of religious practice for many people. What recourse do I have left?
I spoke with a friend recently about the difficulties of being tolerant of everyone, including the intolerant. I had to acknowledge that my commitment to tolerance is totally belied by my refusal to be passively accepting of those I deem to be intolerant. This article about Nofrat Frenkel and the Women of the Wall reminded me that I need to reassess my beliefs in my own tolerance, and perhaps begin to accept the intolerance I have that I cannot – perhaps do not want to – shed. How that will inform my work in Fringes and my relationships with other Jews remains to be seen.
- Leah
