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I just read a fabulous article by Rabbi Eliyahu Fink entitled, Don’t Blame Women for Not Going to Shul. The article tries to explain why so many orthodox Jewish women do not attend shul on a regular basis. He talks about some of the reasons that men enjoy going to shul – the ability to participate and be called upon for honors, the socialization, the kiddush food, and the freedom from childcare during services.
Rabbi Fink goes on to say that women do not have any of the above incentives to attend synagogue. We are not obligated to daven with a minyan, we are never called upon to participate during services, we usually don’t have a regular chevra (group of friends) to socialize with because female attendance is so sporadic, the food at most shul kiddushes is usually cholent and kishke not sushi and salad, and childcare is a chronic issue for those mothers with very young children.
On top of that, we have articles and lectures that tell us that women’s special role is to daven to Hashem one on one – we don’t need the reinforcement of a public forum, but rather, our own homes will do just as well if not better. Rabbi Fink surmises that if roles were reversed, most men would not go to shul either.
Hadassah Levy writes another article on the subject entitled, Why Women Don’t Go to Shul. In the article, she links to other orthodox authors who have written on the subject of women feeling excluded in the male-centric world of public prayer. She summarizes that “Childcare, a later davening time and a more comfortable women’s section would certainly go a long way toward bringing more women to shul.”
When I think about my own connection to shul, I am reminded of the bar mitzvah speech that I gave for my oldest son at the family Friday night dinner. In the speech, I told my son that right after he was born, I looked at him and thought that I could never love him more than I did at that moment. When you hold your child in your arms for the first time, your heart fills up in a way that only another parent can understand.
However sincere my thoughts were during the first few minutes of my son’s life, they were wrong. I could and did love him more. With every diaper change, every bout of colic, every feeding, every burping, every bath, every clothing change, every cleanup….I loved him more. As he grew, the tasks of caring for him became more complicated and demanding – he needed more from me emotionally and intellectually. Being a mother is hard work…but in the doing is the loving. By his bar mitzvah, I knew enough to know that my love for him would continue to grow. Every obstacle, every triumph, every shared burden and success – all are the building bricks of loving a child.
For me, the same thing holds true in loving synagogue services. When you have no role, it is hard to have commitment. Where there is no work or effort put forth, there can be no love. Those admirable men who are committed to daily shul attendance have put in the blood, sweat, and tears to feel ownership and pride. The work they have put into their own tefillos and their spiritual institutions create a sense of love and loyalty. Women are shut out from that experience. Unless there is some meaningful way to include us as more than passive observers, orthodox shuls will continue to be men’s clubs, while women will be seeking out membership elsewhere or not at all.
