Feminist Minyan Anniversary Drash

LDB's Second Drash--Feminist Minyan Anniversary

From l'cha dodi to obsessing more generally about Shabbat ... especially shabbat shalom, the peace we gather here to welcome. Some beginning thoughts:

Anniversary good occasion to ask: What does it mean as feminists that we gather in this minyan to make Shabbat?

A lot of Shabbat, it seems = understanding what we mean by work, by rest, by peace.

Part of the genius of Shabbat is that it recognizes domestic labor as work. Our observances draw attention to the work of keeping body and soul together, and of preparing for Shabbat as for an honored guest, a Bride. This is a welcome change from the usual invisibility of domestic labor.

But of course we can't just "give it a rest" when it comes to housework. People need to be cared for throughout Shabbat -- indeed, there is a lot in our traditions about the pleasures of the senses, of eating especially, for which women are often responsible. Although even the most venerable of (presumably male) scholars is supposed to help in the preparations, the work of making Shabbat -- like the annual ordeal of preparing the household for Passover -- is largely women's work. When it has to be done ahead of time, it can be an onerous task, and when it cannot be done, homes can lack in the very peace and pleasure central to Shabbat. Think of the daughters in Anzia Yezierska's Bread Givers, who are sacrificed so their Talmudic scholar father can be free of toil to focus on the holy light. Recall the analysis of Canadian sociologist Dorothy Smith who observes that the heights of abstract thought are achievable only when someone is left below to look after the scholar's body -- the heart of the sexual division of labor. Or listen to the memories of Thena Kendall, from her Orthodox childhood:

... even an ordinary Sabbath inflicted restraints that I found quite unbearable. Some of my girlfriends were not allowed to comb or brush their hair on the Sabbath -- breaking up a tangle of hair was considered work -- and washing the hands with soap was also forbidden. It was also not permitted to tear paper; but at least these houshold had the foresight to tear off sufficient pieces of toilet paper to serve the family for hygenic purposes from Friday evening to Saturday night. It all made the day of rest seem unhygenic and unpleasant.

When the work of caring cannot be done, the magic of the moment slips into an ugliness kept ordinarily at bay by women's keen attentions. So it is important to recognize that this minyan has been sustained -- so that we may come and sit in the synagogue and pray -- by the work and love of women.

The story of Esther, one of the texts we are attending to this month, raises parallel questions of women's work and duty. Vashti is banished because her insubordination might be a bad example for the wives of the kingdom. Esther conceals her Jewish identity on her uncle's advice. She entertains the King and his nasty henchman. She uses subterfuge to save the Jews. In short, Purim is an occasion where we celebrate forms of power for which women are often humiliated or trivialized, often the only power we have -- as women, as Jews, as lesbians:

self-concealment,
control over our sexual availability,
gossip,
throwing a good party.

My point is not to cast a pall on Purim. The point is, women often delineate sacred space ... which is also work. The question, with the story of Vashti and Esther but perhaps more importantly with regards to Shabbat itself, is whether feminists want to bag the whole thing or struggle from within to create change? The fact that we are here after three years, and that these services are so often both beautiful and thought-provoking, speaks well of the powers we want to be cultivating as feminist Jews:

self-discovery,
creativity,
rootedness in the transcendent nature of the everyday and in the concrete nature of all the little details that make possible community, scholarship, pleasure, flights of fancy, shabbat shalom.