I applaud Haviva Ner-David for becoming the first female Orthodox rabbi. Clearly, her path of more than ten years of study to earn both a PhD in Talmud and her rabbinic ordination sets a new precedent for women seeking a more intellectually respected place in the Orthodox world. However, the ambiguity of Ner-DavidÌ¢âÂã¢s title as Ì¢âÂÒrabbiÌ¢âÂå particularly in the eyes of her own teacher, Rabbi Strikovsky, and within the Orthodox community at large is troubling. Although Strikovsky explains that Ner-DavidÌ¢âÂã¢s training is on par with those of her male counterparts, he believes that her rabbinic authority is less authentic simply because of her sex. In a post-denominational world, the recognition of Ner-DavidÌ¢âÂã¢s title as a Ì¢âÂÒRabbiÌ¢âÂå or an Ì¢âÂÒAlmost RabbiÌ¢âÂå regardless of her qualifications would be somewhat irrelevant. But that world does not yet exist. Since Ner-David has chosen to make a place for herself within the framework of Orthodox Judaism and since her rabbinic aspirations were nurtured by an ordained Orthodox Rabbi, the unwillingness to call her rabbi after having what was considered to be rabbinic training seems only to smack of sexist hypocrisy. Is the label itself important? Yes and no. The title itself may be of little interest (as it is to Ner-David), but the consequences of allowing others to rescind a title that one has earned seem significant. OneÌ¢âÂã¢s title has a strong impact upon the power to make decisions within any institution. And if Ner-David is truly intent upon making a place for herself and perhaps for other women in the Orthodox world, she should not be so detached as to say that a title does not matter.
With all of the vagueness surrounding the authenticity of Ner-DavidÌ¢âÂã¢s title, one is left wondering why Orthodoxy is the route she has taken in the first place. A review of her book Life on the Fringes from Kolel: The Adult Centre for Liberal Jewish Learning explains that many of Ner-DavidÌ¢âÂã¢s ideals are clearly out of step with normative Orthodox ideology. She advocates for an interpretation of Leviticus that accepts homosexuality. She also chose to immerse her new-born Jewish daughter in a mikveh as a covenantal birth ceremony which is traditionally reserved for conversion. Additionally, she admits to certain halachic rituals being fundamentally Ì¢âÂÒsexistÌ¢âÂå thereby not resonating with her personal sense of meaning.
One wonders why Ner-David did not choose to be ordained in the Conservative Movement, a halachic movement in which many of her views would be openly explored and embraced. Though I am puzzled by Ner-DavidÌ¢âÂã¢s path, I do respect her choice to identify with Orthodoxy. Yet if Ner-David wants the Orthodox world to come around, so to speak, her fight must not end with the complacency of having a Ì¢âÂÒless thanÌ¢âÂå status. Otherwise, the doors have not yet been opened; they have only been knocked upon.
9/15/06
I applaud Haviva Ner-David for becoming the first female Orthodox rabbi. Clearly, her path of more than ten years of study to earn both a PhD in Talmud and her rabbinic ordination sets a new precedent for women seeking a more intellectually respected place in the Orthodox world. However, the ambiguity of Ner-DavidÌ¢âÂã¢s title as Ì¢âÂÒrabbiÌ¢âÂå particularly in the eyes of her own teacher, Rabbi Strikovsky, and within the Orthodox community at large is troubling. Although Strikovsky explains that Ner-DavidÌ¢âÂã¢s training is on par with those of her male counterparts, he believes that her rabbinic authority is less authentic simply because of her sex. In a post-denominational world, the recognition of Ner-DavidÌ¢âÂã¢s title as a Ì¢âÂÒRabbiÌ¢âÂå or an Ì¢âÂÒAlmost RabbiÌ¢âÂå regardless of her qualifications would be somewhat irrelevant. But that world does not yet exist. Since Ner-David has chosen to make a place for herself within the framework of Orthodox Judaism and since her rabbinic aspirations were nurtured by an ordained Orthodox Rabbi, the unwillingness to call her rabbi after having what was considered to be rabbinic training seems only to smack of sexist hypocrisy. Is the label itself important? Yes and no. The title itself may be of little interest (as it is to Ner-David), but the consequences of allowing others to rescind a title that one has earned seem significant. OneÌ¢âÂã¢s title has a strong impact upon the power to make decisions within any institution. And if Ner-David is truly intent upon making a place for herself and perhaps for other women in the Orthodox world, she should not be so detached as to say that a title does not matter.
With all of the vagueness surrounding the authenticity of Ner-DavidÌ¢âÂã¢s title, one is left wondering why Orthodoxy is the route she has taken in the first place. A review of her book Life on the Fringes from Kolel: The Adult Centre for Liberal Jewish Learning explains that many of Ner-DavidÌ¢âÂã¢s ideals are clearly out of step with normative Orthodox ideology. She advocates for an interpretation of Leviticus that accepts homosexuality. She also chose to immerse her new-born Jewish daughter in a mikveh as a covenantal birth ceremony which is traditionally reserved for conversion. Additionally, she admits to certain halachic rituals being fundamentally Ì¢âÂÒsexistÌ¢âÂå thereby not resonating with her personal sense of meaning.
One wonders why Ner-David did not choose to be ordained in the Conservative Movement, a halachic movement in which many of her views would be openly explored and embraced. Though I am puzzled by Ner-DavidÌ¢âÂã¢s path, I do respect her choice to identify with Orthodoxy. Yet if Ner-David wants the Orthodox world to come around, so to speak, her fight must not end with the complacency of having a Ì¢âÂÒless thanÌ¢âÂå status. Otherwise, the doors have not yet been opened; they have only been knocked upon.