Painting by Liz Almonte, "The gift of Nyx"
As in many cultures, Jewish women historically were those who wove the cloth for their families’ clothing. A particular piece famous in Jewish imagery is that of the tallit---the tallit is a woven shawl hemmed with blue thread, worn during specific religious observance, and more traditionally, by men. It is assumed that perhaps the child Moses was wrapped in a specifically marked cloth that identified him as “Hebrew,” woven with love and care by his mother, Jochebed, who’s heart no doubt broke as she set her son adrift with hopes to save his life from the hand of Egyptian oppression.
I have a holy envy for the traditions of the Jewish people. Centuries older than Christianity and many centuries older than the tradition of my birth, Judaism has withstood tribal aggressions, diasporic influences, genocides, expulsions and inquisitions, pogroms, Holocausts, and anti-Semitic aggressions. Through these refining fires, Judaism has enriched, expanded, diversified, and drawn deeply from its narratives to find usable and perhaps unappreciated history from which springs forth contemporary movements, specifically women’s movements, that enrich and beautify the faith.
A few years ago, I assigned my New Testament students to attend two religious services outside of the LDS tradition during the semester, submitting a short piece on the worship service they attended, comparing and contrasting the experiences. One Friday, I attended Shabbat services with my students at Salt-Lake’s Kol-Ami synagogue (in Hebrew, Kol-Ami means “voice of my people”). Known as a liberal synagogue, the group’s Rabbi was Rabbi Elena Schwartzman, the granddaughter an Eastern European immigrant Grandfather who was also a Rabbi, renown for paving the way for Jewish reform in America. I admit, seeing her lead the congregation with effortless grace and confidence, as a woman, flooded me with emotions I couldn’t quite put names to. Rather than try to understand it, I simply allowed myself to sit with it all, allowing my spirit to be blessed by her knowledge and spirit. It was evident that this group had full confidence in her to lead their congregation as the voice of their people, connecting them to the God of their ancestors.
During the service, noticing a fussy baby among the attendees, she nonchalantly descended the slight podium where she led service, came into the pews and reached for the infant, plopping him gingerly on her hip. Baby in-tow, she continued leading the service, bobbing the little boy up and down to the rhythm of the songs she sang, swaying him back and forth with her as she led the prayers in well-practiced rhythm. She held him for a good 20 minutes, eventually handing the rosy-cheeked (and now content) baby back to its father.
While the service continued, I couldn’t get over what I had just observed. In fact, there were tears in my eyes reflecting the beautiful stirring of my soul---both transcendent and disturbing.
In the faith tradition of my birth, women do not hold most leadership positions and most certainly the ones with power; doctrinally, only men hold keys of authority (Priesthood keys) and thus women are rarely seen leading the congregation unless leading music, perhaps. Additionally, while some have proposed that the Relief Society presidency also sit on the stand during Sacrament Meeting so as to display a healthier balance of power, the general response to that suggestion seems to popularly be that “a mother needs to sit with her children and it would create too much distraction having the kids running up to the stands from time to time.” Here, in this one experience at the synagogue, both scenarios were confounded by a lived experience, and the impact of that powerful happening has stayed with me ever since, reminding me of what could be, and for some, what is.
Being threatened with formal disciplinary action by my own religious community due to my views on Priesthood expansion, I quickly realized that while many are hungry from a more visible female presence within worship and ordinances, the very discussion of its actual implementation is viewed by those in authority as anathema, and thus, women in particular quickly learn with whom they can and can’t discuss these feelings and ideas.
Recently, a friend of mine who has removed her records from the Church, gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. My friend is ethnically Jewish, and since beginning her journey out of the LDS tradition, has returned to her Jewish roots to examine and glean from those traditions. Both she and I have formally acknowledged that giving birth to daughters fueled the fires of our feminism and the desire for our children, both boys and girls, to see women claim their place as religious leaders, if it is in their path, and certainly to own their own spiritual authority through their connection to God, which is their birthright.
Following the births of all my children, I have often wondered why a female presence within the blessing circle was not allowed. Eventually, I did write about that possibility, suggesting ways in which it could be accomplished (doctrinally and physically). Since the pandemic, specifically, I have seen many families choose to bless their child at home, with the mother holding the infant while the father administered the blessing. While I have been fortunate to have a husband who gives insightful and powerful words of blessing to our children, many times I’ve pondered on what words I would be inspired to utter to my newly born child, if perhaps my religion had a place for and saw value in such a thing.
And so again it was with a flood of holy envy that I recently read that my dear friend, after giving birth to her baby girl, reached deep within her ethnic roots and her own spiritual authority, and gave a blessing to her infant child. These are her specific words:
“I bought my daughter a tallit and wrapped her in it while giving her a very private mother’s blessing in the hospital, which was a sacred, and meaningful experience for me. I resigned my Mormon membership when I found out I was pregnant with a girl. I did it for her.”[1]
A clear image of this sister wrapping her precious girl in the ancient tallit, lips close to the baby’s ear as she connected to the Divine and whispered inspired words of blessing to her daughter, infusing into her the identity, strength, and inspiration of generations of women before her. She asked no one for permission to preform this beautiful ritual, because the only permission needed was her own, and the power from which the blessing sprang was God’s, and she, the conduit.
Even now, writing about this brings strong emotions to my heart and palpable vibrations to my soul---we as LDS people perpetuate a spiritual void that can only be filled by the visible contribution of our women in ways that validate and sustain their unique spiritual capacities. How long will it be before we, as a people, are moved upon by the spirit of truth and necessity to honor the God-given power of our women to bless and minister in unique ways? How long before our leaders hear the petitions of God’s daughters, uttering the words that Moses saw fit to utter in the case of Noah and her sisters when he uttered, “the daughters of Zelophehad speak right!” (Numbers 27:7)[2]
In the meantime, I see more and more women like my friend who are no longer asking for permission to do what the spirit compels them to do, and the ears of their daughters are hearing, the eyes of their sons are watching, and the faces of their husbands are smiling as their family units are enriched by these women stepping into their power. In addition, our religious communities lose the power and capacity of these women who distance themselves from formal worship, and yet, what option are they left with when they look into the eyes of their infant daughters, gifts from God to develop into powerful and capable women in Zion? To protect the delicate divinity within their daughters, choosing to enrich and empower them rather than expose them to a tradition that outsources their God-given authority to that of a man and places their visibility behind what is seen, they will do what is necessary. It is my hope that one day, as with our Jewish cousins, progressive minds and hearts will see a way to honor both tradition and lived experience, moving our theology forward to a more equitable representation of both men and women in ritual worship.