No longer cursed but not quite the revolution we planned

Thirty-five years ago, the first Australian women’s prayer group met in my parents’ home. Two rabbis called to curse me, to frighten me out of doing it, and I had only myself to blame.

At every opportunity, I had been speaking about a new American phenomenon: Orthodox women gathering for prayer and Torah. My proselytizing provoked a flurry of young voices asking for women’s prayer in Sydney. I hesitated, I debated, I anticipated a tumult, but I wanted to pass on a little of what the women of America had given me.

Even before I could walk, my father had taken me to shul, where I watched men’s prayer coming together so effortlessly, so naturally. Every day, twice a day, a boy waits for his chance to lead, while his sister waits at home. Every day, a boy attends to the performance, ready for the moment when the baton passes to him.

Creating a service for ladies who are chatting in shul and not paying attention to what’s going on in the men’s section because they will never participate, is like conducting an orchestra of kindergarteners. You might lose a few notes.

Only a minyan of ten men can utter the kaddish and other communal prayers. Only with a minyan can the Torah reading be blessed. But Orthodox women in New York wanted to do more than sit in the Ladies’ Gallery watching men. In the 1970s, they devised prayer and Torah services for women. In the 1980s, I joined them.

From the beginning, rabbis and laity went berserk. Women reading from the Torah was especially combustible. What might happen when women saw the black letters dancing across the parchment of Torah?

Knowing this, I pressed ahead cautiously with the women’s service in Sydney. We decided to meet on Rosh Hodesh Kislev, the new moon at the end of the solar year, when Hallel is sung and the Torah is read. In 1989 (and 2024) Rosh Hodesh Kislev fell on a Sunday, allowing women to travel to our service from many places. The moon has a special connection with women, in its lesser status to the sun, its waxing and waning. Rosh Hodesh has long been a holiday for Jewish women.

Everything about our Sydney women’s service was kept as quiet as possible. It was planned at my parents’ home, so we wouldn’t need to ask for synagogue space. People found out only through word of mouth. A rabbi lent us a Torah scroll.