More Perspectives from the Other Side of the Mechitza - by Michal Greenspan

Michal Greenspan has bravely and graciously agreed to share her perspective as a regular minyan attendee and a woman who is NOT saying Kaddish.  May she not need to learn about Kaddish until 120 on all sides, and may we benefit from her wisdom to improve the experience of Minyan for all, men and women inclusive.  

It is inspiring that Michal focuses on the varying reasons why people attend minyan and emphasizes the positive: "Understanding what makes other people connect to elements of religion can be inspiring and thought-provoking, and so I encourage you to continue to learn why people do what they do. But be sensitive.... Not everyone shows up to shul for the same reason. That’s what makes us interesting."

Michal also writes: "I wanted to share what it means to be on the other side of the mechitza when you’re not saying Kaddish. To be trying to connect, only to be made to feel like an outcast..." Isn't it a shame that someone so committed to exploring and building her relationship with both God and her community is made to feel this way? No wonder so many women find minyan attendance a challenge when they are not compelled by circumstances!

On a personal note, women like Michal have been my mainstay during these last few months. It has been heartening to have the companionship of other women during the service, especially those whose arrival does not break my heart through the shared grief of a joint Kaddish. Standing lonely on the other side of a barrier is no picnic, and only heightens the experience of loss and disconnection that a mourner can feel - especially when compared to the camaraderie and social capital that builds among men on the other side of the Mechitza. This is one of the reasons I stopped attending daily minyan many years ago, long before I was faced with Kaddish. Wouldn't it be beautiful to see a community of women in attendance every morning - mourners and non-mourners alike - so that those of us reciting Kaddish could have someone to turn toward us and respond? I yearn for the day when women's weekday attendance can grow to a place where I can greet others with "Good Morning" rather than "I'm sorry for your loss."

Perhaps this begins by encouraging women to attend Minyan once a week, on any day of the week - not as an attempt to obligate ourselves in the time-bound commitment but to simply help us find that elusive spiritual connection long before Kaddish enters the picture. Or perhaps it begins with some important steps on the part of the community to ensure that women feel comfortable once they do arrive. Either way, let's brainstorm together how to ease the path for all. Please use the comments as a forum to share ideas and thoughts for supporting the women of our collective community.



By Michal Greenspan

It’s been about 5 months since I’ve been attending morning minyan on a regular basis. What started as a quasi-experiment, has become a ritual routine, so embedded in my daily schedule, that without it I feel un-whole- which is unexpected, considering there have been long stretches of times in my life that I didn’t daven at all.

My mother has always been extremely spiritual. “Jewish music is food for the soul,” she says. JM in the AM would blare on the radio every morning before school, and every month I wake up to a text reminding my brothers and me that it’s Rosh Chodesh.

When I was younger my mother would try to encourage me to daven on Friday nights or Sunday mornings, but I was generally apathetic and somewhat cynical. And as I got older, she stopped asking. Instead, she would simply do. She’d pause our Friday night conversations to recite Kabbalat Shabbat or delay a Sunday morning activity so she could finish saying Tehillim.

I grew up in a house of brothers. I never felt left out of their minyan attendance. Honestly, I felt grateful. Being religious is hard. I wasn’t looking to add another thing to the list of dos and don'ts. I was never the woman who wanted to Lain, or carry the Torah, or put on Tefillin. In so many ways, I just didn’t care.

I used to make fun of my mom for her spirituality. I grew up in a house of faith, but in schools of logic, ritual, & thought. I spent more time learning Gemara than Nach. I was taught to think critically. To find meaning in text rather than song.

And yet, as I’ve gotten older, and gotten further and further from the years of formal Jewish education, I’ve found myself looking for ways to connect. And surprisingly, it has been through elements of religion that I used to laugh off. Zmirot. Jewish Music. Tefillah. I think more than anyone, I am the most surprised by how much the religious experiences I connect to have changed over time.

Recently someone asked me why I go to minyan. “Are you saying Kaddish?” he asked. And on multiple levels, the question stung. Because no, thank God, I am not, although I am surrounded on a daily basis by men and women who have committed their time to doing so. Would you ask a man that question, I wondered? Would I be more or less offended if I actually were saying Kaddish? I understood on some level why he asked. Most of the women who come to minyan say Kaddish. I would be lying if I said that when a new woman appears at minyan, I don’t look up during Kaddish to see if she too is part of the mourners club. Because we have been raised in a world where the norm is for women to show up once a week, often hours late, without any explanations or demands to do better. I’m not here to reform these expectations. As a community could we do more to encourage women to participate more? Of course! There are a million things we could be doing better, hundreds of ways we could up our standards. But I think a simple place to start is creating spaces where women feel just as comfortable as men to show up every morning to daven, without having to be the only ones to answer the question of “why are you here?” I’m happy to explain why; I know why you’re asking. But how many men have been asked the same question?

To say I started going to minyan because I was seeking religious guidance and connection only would be a lie. Sure a part of it was what many seek from religion. To feel part of something larger than themselves. To feel inspired. But I’ve realized, as I’ve been getting older and needing to learn to manage my own time, that structure is something I require. And so, honestly, a big part of Minyan for me has been adding another element of structure to my day, both religiously and logistically. It’s also really been about trying to focus. To try to stretch out the time I devote to thinking about what I want, or need, or am grateful for to more than the five minutes I used to carve out in between getting dressed and eating breakfast (which I’ll admit is not always successful).

There have been both men and women who have been encouraging of my daily routine. Whether it be a simple smile or wave of recognition when they see me on the street outside of shul, or a simple remark that they’re impressed that I go, which I don’t find offensive because honestly, I’m impressed by anyone who goes. It’s hard. And maybe it shouldn’t be. We don’t congratulate people for keeping kosher or Shabbat. But in the world we live in, minyan has become a challenge, and finding ways to connect to God is really really difficult, and it would be unfair of me to say that it’s easy for anyone.

At the same time, I think people overhype it sometimes. I was reluctant to write about my experience. Even to talk about it. Mostly because although minyan is somewhat public, for me it is personal. I do it for myself. I don’t expect others to congratulate me or pat me on the back for committing to something. Everyone makes commitments- religious or personal- public or private that can be challenging or easy.

But I’m sharing for a few reasons.

Because I found something that works for me. That works on religious and logistical levels for me at this time in my life and in some ways has become a little easier for me than I expected. And so I’m trying to lean into it. I’m not saying this to minimize my commitment, rather to say that it doesn’t have to be this. It doesn’t have to be every day. It doesn’t have to be religious, or public, and it doesn’t need to require waking up early. And so if you find something similar or wholly different, but something that brings you some sense of fulfillment I hope you try to embrace it, because your ability to commit to it may surprise yourself most out of everyone.

Because I found my mother’s actions inspiring, but maybe you connect to written words, and so here they are. I’m not a Rabbi or teacher by any stretch of the imagination. But I’m aware that there are many elements of my religious and personal life that require more effort and could use more growth. I’ve found reading other people’s experiences to be helpful at varying moments in my life, whether it be as a point of connection, inspiration or even contradiction so if this helps encourage you or make you think differently in any way, then I’ll be glad I shared.

And I wanted to share what it means to be on the other side of the mechitza when you’re not saying Kaddish. To be trying to connect, only to be made to feel like an outcast in the hopes that maybe we can try to be a little better. It’s ok to ask why I go to minyan. Understanding what makes other people connect to elements of religion can be inspiring and thought-provoking, and so I encourage you to continue to learn why people do what they do. But be sensitive. Ask everyone. Men too. Understand that your questions may be laced with bias whether intended or not, or simply try to ask without a sense of judgment or assumption. I’ve found, it’s much easier to learn this way. Not everyone is saying Kaddish for the same reason. Not everyone shows up to shul for the same reason. That’s what makes us interesting. That’s what makes this religion thoughtful and bigger than just a group of people going through the same motions like robots.

And I think on a more personal level, I also wanted a way to express something that maybe everyone else already knew, but I’m just starting to learn; my relationship to Judaism and God is in constant flux, and the things that once made me scoff, make me feel inspired. And the cynicism I thought had been embedded in my religious observance, was simply just an emotional reaction like any other, that has the ability to change with time and with experience. And that’s what makes religion dynamic and exciting. And I think maybe it’s what makes our connection with God an actual relationship. And maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up cynical again. Who knows? But for now, this works. So I’m trying to embrace it.

3 Wishes - for minyan related peace of mind

Nearly 7 months of attending daily minyan to say Kaddish for my father has given me much time to reflect on the minyan experience itself, among many other related topics. 

Thankfully, my experiences have been overwhelmingly positive, and the bumps in the road have been relatively minor, all  things considered.  If my small gripes here and there have painted a negative portrait of a woman's experience in shul, and wish to apologize to any institutions or individuals who have been maligned by my processing these experiences in a public forum.  

At the same time, the conversations on Facebook and otherwise have helped me to distill three distinct wishes that would make the experience so much easier.

Three Wishes:

1. A place to stand/sit/daven
2. Security in knowing that there will be opportunity to recite/hear Kaddish when the time comes
3. Knowing that there will be time to recite Aleinu before Kaddish begins

Let me explain each in greater detail:

1. A place to stand/sit/daven

Knowing before I arrive that there is a designated space for woman would greatly mitigate the anxiety I feel before attending a new minyan.  Wondering what I am walking into, pushing myself to arrive extra early to allow time to setup, negotiate for, or locate the Women's Section adds an additional element of discomfort/anxiety/anticipation on a regular basis.  Once I know the lay of the land, the second visit is always easier!

How synagogues can help: 

• note on the website that there is an accessible, regularly available Women's section - or a listing of whom to reach out to in advance to make arrangements before arrival 
• post signs pointing clear directions to the Woman's Section for visitors who might not know the building
• have a woman's section set up, free of men, at every service, whether women attend regularly or not.  I can't count how many times I have been the only woman in attendance, and there have been times that I have not been able to arrive early.  
• The anxiety of arriving late coupled with not knowing whether there will be a place to stand can be overwhelming at times and has nearly caused me to miss out on Kaddish. 

2. Security in knowing that there will be opportunity to recite/hear Kaddish when the time comes

For a woman who is not, in some communities, permitted to recite Kaddish aloud by herself, there is an added element of wondering whether there will be someone in the men's section available to recite Kaddish in the appropriate time.  At Mincha and Maariv, the Kaddish occurs only at the end of the service.  On days when I recognize fellow "club members" in the crowd, I know that time will be allotted for Kaddish and that I will be able to hear and follow along without difficulty.  When I don't recognize anyone in the crowd, I find myself anxious throughout the service wondering whether there will be someone present to recite Kaddish.

How synagogues can help:

• Note on the website the Shul's policy when it comes to Kaddish -
• Whether a woman can recite Kaddish alone or accompanied
• Whether the Shul has a custom of reciting Kaddish regardless of whether a male mourner is present (there are many reasons for this, but not knowing whether or not this is the case in a particular minyan has caused me no small angst over time). 
• A sign, a flag, a nod, a conversation... to let me and/or other women know that Kaddish will be recited and what our responsibility is vis a vis the Shul custom: recite alone, follow along quietly, follow along aloud, etc. 
• Make sure that the men reciting Kaddish in various areas in the room are synchronized, so that women can easily hear and follow.  If possible, mourners stationed near the mechitza allow for the easiest follow by women mourners. 

3. Knowing that there will be time to recite Aleinu before Kaddish begins

Different leaders lead at different paces.  That said, many seem to rush through Aleinu at breakneck pace.  Given that Aleinu is almost always followed by Mourner's Kaddish, would it not make sense to slow it down just a smidge so that mourners can complete the Aleinu without racing against time? 

How synagogues can help:

• Create a policy whereby Aleinu is given an extra beat or two on a consistent basis so that mourners looking toward Kaddish might be able to predict the amount of time allotted and pace themselves accordingly.  
• Extend the the leader's repetition so that mourners have a bit more notice in advance of Kaddish.

Based on conversations with other mourners, I think that if synagogues took steps to grant us these three wishes, our experiences saying Kaddish would be greatly ameliorated.  Any additional steps they can take toward smoothing the way in these three categories would be vastly appreciated.  

Men: Please Don’t Sit in the Women’s Section!

This is a pubic service announcement for all men who choose to sit in the

women’s section out of convenience, comfort, curiosity, or just sheer ignorance.  

You may never have thought about it before and your sitting in the women’s

section may be completely accidental on one particular day - but it matters.  

Or you may be someone who likes to spread out, and you see a whole empty (for now)

section where you won’t have to share a row with another man.  But the fact that

so many men seem to make this choice on a regular basis truly baffles me.  

In many Orthodox synagogues, men have 75-90% of the space at their disposal

on a weekday, so I wonder why some decide to also claim the tiny corner reserved

for us women.  

To all of you, I ask this question:

Have you (man) ever stopped to consider how your choice could affect the

women for whom that section is designated?

Please take a moment and try to imagine how you might feel if, already

running late for Mourner’s Kaddish, you arrive at shul and need to

displace one (or several) men from the women’s section in order to join the service.  

Outcome:

• Those few moments of movement may prevent you from reciting the Kaddish!  
• The discomfort of the encounter itself may last a few moments into

your prayer, affecting your mood and your ability to focus on the words and your intention.

• Now imagine if that woman was your own mother or sister or wife or daughter...

And when this happens again and again, it takes a toll.  

After 4 months of Kaddish, there are probably about an equal number of times

that my simple presence has displaced men from the women’s section as not.  

I’ve tried to be polite and non-judgemental about it, asking “Is this the Women’s

Section?” when I arrive, instead of “Can you (man) please move from this section

designated for me (woman) so I can stand here to say Kaddish for my father.”   

But after five encounters in the last two days, I’m tired of being subtle.  From now on,

I plan to ask the men WHY they choose to sit in the women’s section.

Here’s a tip:

If you can’t answer that question with something other than “Oops” (really?!) or “I was

going to move when you got here” (not helpful) -- or anything that will make me feel better

about displacing you by my simple presence and potentially missing the Mourner’s

Kaddish that I came to recite… well, please, please, PLEASE… just DON’T sit in the

women’s section!

Final note to all the men out there who want to help:

Please spread the word among members of your gender and help reserve the

women’s section for women.  We may not always manage to arrive at the beginning

of the service, but it’s doubly hard to run late and then negotiate for a place

to stand.  Your help with keeping the women’s section clear of men will be

invaluable to all women who ever enter a synagogue to pray.

Kaddish - A Daily Ordeal (and How Shuls Can Help)

Reciting kaddish daily after the death of a close family member can be trying at the best of times.  FIRST, there is the tetris challenge adjusting your schedule around changing minyan times.  THEN comes the feat of arriving at the start of services, which can be likened to running to catch a train three times a day.  FINALLY, there is the stress of keeping up with the chazzan, so as to be ready to recite the Mourner’s Kaddish in the appropriate places in the service.  While these three challenges are shared by all, after this point, the experience diverges for male and female mourners.  

Male mourners may be faced with the chiyuv, the obligation, to lead the service and catch a few extra kaddishes in memory of their loved one.  They may receive diverse feedback regarding the pacing, speed and volume of their performance, which can be confusing at best, or hurtful depending on how it is offered.

Female mourners have a different set of challenges.  On any given day, most of the following thoughts flit through my head during the service:

• OK, I’m here… I’ve entered (or found, or constructed or negotiated for) the women’s section.  Will there be a minyan for the early kaddish?  
• Will there be anyone saying kaddish on the men’s side?  I don’t want to say kaddish aloud on my own unless I know that the Shul will support me in doing so.  
• Do I need to alert someone that I’m here to say kaddish?  How can I get their attention?
• Will I be able to hear the man’s kaddish? Will I be able to keep pace?
• What if I miss a beat and pause at different intervals than the others.  Will anyone answer to my kaddish? Or will I be greeted by silence?
• I wish I didn’t have to be sitting here alone.
• Oh good, company!  … but I hope she’s not here to say kaddish too...
• Oh no… glad to have company, so sad we have to meet under these circumstances.
• I don’t want to stick out like a sore thumb; it feels strange and uncomfortable to hear my voice in a shul service.
• Will they think I’m trying to make a “statement?”  
• I never asked for ANY of this!
• Gosh I miss my father…

How a Shul Can Be More Friendly to Women Saying Kaddish

• Ensure that men do not sit in the Women’s Section.
• Make sure that the Women’s Section is unlocked, with lights, air conditioning, and siddurim available to all who arrive at whatever time they arrive.
• Ask the male mourners (or at the very least one male mourner) to stand near the women’s section so any women saying kaddish can keep pace with him (it can be hard to hear a group scattered throughout the room and keep pace with one person).
• Arrange for someone on the men’s side to recite kaddish at the minyan every day, on behalf of anyone who needs to follow along (and may not make themselves known in advance).
• Delegate a gabbai, officer, or member at large to welcome women when they arrive and/or at least be available to notice if a woman tries to signal that she is there to recite kaddish.
• Create “notification cards” in the women’s section that can be passed to the rabbi or gabbai to notify them that a women is planning to recite kaddish at this minyan (so that the minyan can make whatever preparation necessary to ensure that kaddish is not skipped or rushed through).

How a Shul Can be More Accommodating to All Mourners

• Set a consistent pace:
• Designate one individual to recite Kaddish loudly and set the pace for all. This could be the Chazzan (Leader) or someone with a loud voice.
• Designate a central location from which Kaddish is recited by all (preferably near the woman's section so women can easily hear and keep pace).
• Announce "Kaddish" so that mourners can collectively begin at the same time.
• Make an effort to minimize talking during this time, as well as noises that emanate from movement (chair scratching, doors closing, etc.), because this makes it more difficult for mourners to hear each other and keep pace.

• Recommend that the Chazzan breathe (pause) before finishing Aleinu - to give those reciting Kaddish a chance to finish or come to a good stopping point before the Kaddish that follows.

• Have copies of both the Mourner's Kaddish and the Rabbi's Kaddish available separate from the siddur (so that a mourner arriving just in time has quick and easy access to the words).
• These pages can include transliteration for those who need and a note of when kaddish is recited by that specific minyan.

• A little preparation makes a big difference:
• Letting a new arrival know when during the service Kaddish is to be recited is very helpful (also managing expectations by giving a heads' up that there may not be a minyan for the first Kaddish will go a long way).
• Announcing page numbers (so the text can be quickly found).

• Encourage congregants to turn toward and respond when Kaddish is recited.

Saying Kaddish as an Orthodox Woman in a Shiva House

Regardless how liberally minded one is, if she connects to the Orthodox arena, she will never have recited kaddish before… not once.  According to Halacha (Jewish law), Kaddish is one of three prayers that are considered D’varim She’B’kdusha, which require a minyan (quorum of ten men) to recite.  Therefore, these prayers are omitted from Women’s Tefilah services that involve women only, and always led by men in the presence of a minyan.  (The other prayers are Barchu and Kedusha).  

The experience of reciting Kaddish aloud, in a mixed setting, and waiting for a response from that same mixed group of people can feel shocking, surreal, uncomfortable and any number of other emotions.

^ Clergy should be cognizant of looking out to make sure the woman reciting Kaddish has the correct place in the siddur, knows when to begin and how to proceed, and helping to set an appropriate pace for the rest of the congregants who are reciting the Mourners Kaddish.  The woman’s voice will likely not be loud enough (by nature or by design) to rise above those of the men and demand attention.

~ Friends can help by standing nearby and offering moral support and a response where warranted.

~ If you are in shul and a woman is saying Kaddish, turn toward them, or even sit closer.  There’s a good chance they will welcome your proximity - I know I have.

Uncomfortable Experiences to Be Prepared For:

• “Yechupitzville, Population One”: Standing by oneself on the far side of the room from the rest of the minyan (in lieu of a mechitza).  Even well-meaning close relatives who love you may not understand how it feels to be deported to Siberia.  
• ~ friends visiting a shiva house where a woman is saying kaddish can make an extra effort to stand near her (or as close as is comfortable if they are male) to offer moral support.  
• “What am I, chopped liver?”: Watching any male mourners surrounded by supportive community members for the recitation of the first Kaddish, while you are left alone to fend for yourself.
• Hat tip to my neighbor who noticed me standing with a siddur, intending to recite the kaddish, and made a point of standing near me to help me find the right page and offer moral support while I worked my way along.
• “Yoohoo, I’m over here!”: attracting attention of those leading the minyan to submit the name of a “sick or recovering relative or friend” for a Misheberach (prayer for the sick).  This is especially tricky if everyone in the room is hard of hearing…
• “You’ve got to be kidding!”: waking up early to get to minyan in time for the early kaddish (~2 minutes after start time) only to have it skipped due to lack of minyan (bring tissues for such an occasion, especially first day out of the house after shiva).  
• A few tips and tricks:
• Keep a stack of post-its and a pen nearby
• Write the name of the sick friend on a Post-It and leave strategically around the room before the service begins (keep an extra stack nearby for when those Post-Its you placed are not found when needed)
• Use your speaking voice - when the men announce "kaddish!" from a huddle reminiscent of football practice, call out “What page?!”  That will remind them you are present and perhaps inspire them to wait for you to catch up.  Otherwise you may never find the place in time.