Ought To & Can (A San Francisco Fable)

Part I: Ought To--Chapter 2

Going to speech tournaments on Saturdays might be a technical violation of Jewish law, but in all honesty, Sabrina would rather do that than spend Shabbat with her family. For one thing, Congregation Kol B'Yachad ("all together") was a rollercoaster of a 45-minute walk from their house. She only had to make the round trip once on tournament weekends, for Mincha on Friday night, but on her idle Saturdays she got the full workout.

Sabrina liked the Kol B'Yachad building itself, a snug old 1898 unit that slightly resembled a dance hall from that era, with a Star of David and a Menorah painted on the outside.

She was less enthusiastic about what took place inside. Friday night meant sitting with the other women on the distaff side of the mechitzah, which at this synagogue was an actual curtain separating the sexes. She respected the teachings of the prophets and rabbis, yes. She was proud that Orthodox Judaism placed few impediments on women to live their lives (apart from the expectation of motherhood, of course). The women in her family were all strong and accomplished, and she looked forward to joining them one day. So why do we have to cling to this outdated custom of separating males and females in the synagogue? According to The Jewish Book of Why (her father gave her both volumes on her bat mitzvah), it was to keep thoughts from straying into sexual territory. But, is that really even a problem? She sure wasn't turned on by any dude wearing a kippah and a tallit, and she doubted seeing the gals in the baggy plain dresses tempted the men all that much.

Sabrina felt little sisterhood on her side of that mechitzah. What she felt was judged, by women who represented the possibilities for her future: she could become vain and smug, like the woman with the bright red lipstick and designer librarian glasses, or could just end up not giving a damn, like the old woman in the ankle-length black cardigan with sunflowers on it.

But Sabrina wasn't vain and gave a damn.

Saturday mornings when she went to shul, she had a double dose. Before the morning Shacharis prayers, she got to separately attend the Teen Minyan. As a girl, she was there mainly as a non-participant, since it was still ten boys and only ten boys required to make up the minyan. On Saturdays that Sabrina and May were at tournaments, there were only two or three other girls sitting on the opposite side of the mechitzah. Since the majority of the teens in the congregation went to Jewish Community High School, May and Sabrina had little contact with them outside of shul.

The Saturdays they were there, May would bring a paper notepad and they'd silently pass notes back-and-forth. Then at the end, usually one or the other would get the main female role of the Teen Minyan: reciting a prayer for the state of Israel. This week it was Sabrina.

Avinu shebashamayim, Tzur Yisrael vegoalo. Barech et medinat Yisrael, reshit tzemichat geulateinu.

Then she stuck around for the main service, where again she'd sit only with the women and the women would hardly participate at all.

"Shouldn't a Modern Orthodox synagogue be more...modern?", she always silently asked herself.

After the Himmelscheins hiked back home, Fred would lug out a volume of the Schottenstein Edition of the Babylonian Talmud (he had all 73) and initiate a reading session. He'd read a little, then hand it off to a family member, and they'd continue, and so forth. Then they'd discuss what they read.

Since Sabrina was the only child left at home now, she was shouldering more of the reading duties. And it wasn't easy, since it wasn't exactly Goodnight Moon. And those volumes are heavy and hurt her arms. I thought we weren't supposed to do any work today.