A few months ago, I realized that I wanted to start wearing Tallit and Tefillin. Not because I had some grand change in ideology, but because I realized that doing so actually goes along with the ideology I’ve professed to have for quite some time.
I’ve always believed in egalitarianism, the idea that men and women should have the same obligations in regards to Judaism. However, until reading On the Ordination of Women as Rabbis by Rabbi Joel Roth, I hadn’t quite thought about the extent to which that belief should apply to everyday practice, including Mitzvot that are traditionally associated with only men. In his responsum, Rabbi Roth creates a justification for ordaining women as rabbis. In doing so, he discusses the fact that women are traditionally exempt from positive time-bound commandments, such as wearing Tallit (performed in the morning) because performing the Mitzvot would inhibit them from performing their duties at home. Roth brings up the idea that, for a woman who wishes for more to be expected of her than mothering, there could and should be another option: accepting full obligation of all Mitzvot upon herself, including positive time-bound ones. (His discussion of what this would entail and how it would affect people is quite long and nuanced, and worth a read.)
After reading his responsum, I realized that, in truth, I feel obligated to perform all Mitzvot–I see no reason why a male friend of mine should be obligated to perform Mitzvot that I am not. But with this realization came another one–that for years, I’ve been justifying my decision to not wear a Kippah, Tallit, or Tefillin with the word “comfort,” but that doing so is actually quite hypocritical of me. To put it simply: if I were a boy, I’d be wearing them, so why aren’t I?
And so, with that idea in mind, a few weeks ago I decided to try out a Tallit. At my school (or ex-school, as I’m about to graduate), we pray every morning, and so I asked one of our rabbis to teach me the blessing and how to put it on, and I wore it. I was immediately surprised at how comfortable it felt–wrapping myself up in the fabric made me feel warm and homey. It also just felt right–like I was differentiating between my day-to-day clothes and my prayer clothes and setting myself up to focus. That night my father took me to the local Judaica store in order to buy one of my own. We argued for a while about the color scheme, as I wanted to buy the plain blue, white, and silver Tallit that many boys wear at school, and he wanted me to buy a more feminine one. However, after both explaining my belief that if everyone’s obligated we can all wear the same type of Tallit and feeling the silky texture of a slightly more feminine but still simple white and blue Tallit, we settled on a beautiful Tallit that I have worn since that day.
I hadn’t had an opportunity to try Tefillin until yesterday thanks to many snow days and the end of school, but yesterday I woke up early, drove to school, came to Minyan, and was lucky enough to be taught by a peer how to put Tefillin on both my head and my arm. As a teacher had previously explained to me, they were very uncomfortable–they just felt weird. However, as he also explained, I found that weirdness to be very appealing–in his words, it had a kind of “shock effect.” Wearing the Tefillin on my head and my arm made me look and feel like I was not only praying, but like I was doing something overtly different from my normal life. Putting on and taking off Tefillin is somewhat laborious and time consuming–you can’t just immediately walk out into your normal life and move on like you can with a Tallit. I found that differentiation, that conscious effort, to be very powerful, and if I end up praying again on a daily basis (I’m graduating now), I’ll want to buy some and wear them (they’re pretty expensive.)
One of the best things about these two recent experiences was looking around the room and seeing both boys and girls wearing Tallit and Tefillin, comfortably (or uncomfortably, as the case may be) praying as a group. Instead of feeling different, I was one of them–obligated and fulfilling my obligation.
A kippah is obviously male garb, which is strictly forbidden. And there’s no way around the prohibition, unless you abandon all semblance of intellectual integrity.
As for tallit and tefillin, you don’t need Rabbi Roth to enable you to put them on. The big question is why do you feel a need to be officially obligated? Just as a woman can do the mitzvah of sukkah without being obligated and receive reward for doing it, so too with tzitzit and tefillin.
The real problem is turning it into a political statement. A real tzadekes wears a tallit and/or tefillin in private, rather than making a show of it, which strips the mitzvahs of their real meaning and cheapens them.
For background on what the Rishonim and Achronim have to say on these questions, see:
http://www.tallit-shop.com/tallit-tefillin-blog/tefillin/women-and-tefillin/
So, a few points:
First, I don’t think a Kippah is “obviously” male garb–so I’m not sure the prohibition against crossdressing applies.
Second, I see absolutely no reason why a woman should wear Tefillin or Tallit in private. The resource you linked to was not informative at all, as all it says is that a woman should be doing it for “the right reasons.” Now, I’m not sure what you’re trying to imply here, but I think a woman and a man will use these two objects for exactly the same reasons–namely, because it is a commandment. If you think that taking the Mitzvot upon yourself and declaring yourself as obligated as any man is a political statement, then so be it–I see no problem with that. If a woman is ready and willing to meticulously follow and observe the Mitzvot, she should be able to do so in the same manner that men can.
I enjoyed your post a lot. I also have found that wearing tallit and kippah enhances the prayer experience. I only have tried tefillin once, but I agree, it feels very strange and kind of sensitizes you to the experience. I think it’s great that you are adopting these practices and making them your own. I wish more women would…and see that these devices actually do work to make you feel more connected.
Hi Dinah – Just last week, I was blogging on the same topic in a post called From the Twisted Fringe. I attended a morning minyan to say kaddish for my mother, the first time I have done so mid-week in many decades. Once there, it seems I was be honored with the dressing of the Torah and though I was in a progressive synagogue, in order to handle the sacred scrolls I had to wrap myself in the talis..
To be honest – I did so, but found it hard to overcome my aversion to the idea. It seemed to me a peculiar form of cross-dressing. I knew the talis as my father’s cloak – of righteousness, of daily devotion, of otherness. This is the canopy of my father. This is his shroud.
Surely in my time away – three decades – I have missed much. Other women have already debated this. The pedigreed, authoritative Jewish feminists have long-ago come to their conclusions. I know little about their reasoning, the legalistic nuance. I only know what I feel. I do not belong inside this fabric, I do not want to be enveloped by this faint masculine scent, veiled in the life story of another.
American Jewish women are winning a rightful place beside their men in an exclusionary ancient tradition. But does this presume a blurring of gender boundaries, an assumption that our totem rituals, ceremonial garb and spiritual needs are the same?
Come visit me at susanrtorn@wordpress.com and let’s continue the conversation. all best, Susan Reimer-Torn
If you feel uncomfortable, I’m not sure you should wear it. One of the ideas in Roth’s paper is that women must declare themselves obligated. In doing so, they accept all responsibilities upon themselves. If you do believe yourself to be obligated, I do think wearing Tallit is the right way to go; however, I understand your aversion to it, as I had one for many years of my life, and many progressive women do as well.
I don’t think that blurring some gender boundaries is a bad thing. Women were not expected to have to fulfill positive time-bound commandments because they were expected to not have the time due to their work in the home. Now, when so many men and women share that type of work equally, something that I see as a very positive thing, it just seems to make sense that women should be expected to fulfill the same obligations that men are.
I’m glad you took the time to comment and share!