A few people shared Kate Bowler’s recent NY Times article, “The Perilous Power of the Preacher’s Wife” with me.

Yesterday’s long car ride to the natural springs in ???????? Northern Israel provided the perfect opportunity.

Kate, your article left a strong impression on me and I’m sure many others. So I was thinking…

????????‍♀️ Let’s Discuss ????

Love to discuss some of the issues raised with you, Kate Bowler ???????????? , our Facebook community, friends that I daven next to in shul, and of course from you ESTHER ????????, the Preacher’s Wife.

???? Read It????

???? ???????? https://www.nytimes.com/…/evangelical-preachers-pastors.htm… ????????????

???????? In Conversation With Women of Faith ????‍????

Our daughters are often sequestered for “sichot” talks with righteous women that have usually suffered or are currently in the throes of a major tragedy.

Before Rosh Hashanah, my daughter’s teacher returned. With a headscarf barely concealing her bald head, modest clothes loosely hanging on her emancipated body, and an exhausted look on her face, she addressed her students.

The students she abruptly left mid-year after receiving devastating, horrific news. Chemotherapy would begin shortly, just as soon as she gave birth.

Her words, which when recounted by my daughter brought tears to my eyes, described the immense pain of not being able to physically and spiritually recite the morning prayer of “modeh ani” with the full and complete “Kavanah” concentration and intention prescribed.

Her only consolation, she explained to the young women, was that she knew in her heart, that so many of her family members, students, friends, and even complete strangers were davening for her and having her in mind during the recitation of their morning prayers.

Your prayers, your concentration, your appreciation of HaShem’s compassion and greatness, helped me face even the darkest of mornings.

Both my daughter and I, and I’m sure every student sitting in the room, were inspired by her impassioned speech. We were motivated to increase our concentration during our daily prayers and throughout the High Holiday service.

I am inspired. I am moved. I am motivated. What courage. What heroism. What faith.

I daven for her and beg HaShem to grant her a complete Refuah Shelaimah.

But.

I did wonder. I did question. I did think.
Is this the total sum of our religious (women’s) education? You see, this was not the only lecture. Almost every day leading up to Rosh Hashanah, different lecturers spoke to our daughters.

Lost children in a fire. Donated kidneys. Special needs children. Terrorism.

Horrible situations. These women are devout believers. Facing the fire, they recite Shema, chapters of Tehillim.

Yet.

I am ambivalent. Is this the way, the only way, in which our young women, in which we, can come close to Hashem?

And. Is tragedy the only way, a woman in a headscarf, a long skirt, and long sleeves can be given the pulpit?

Reading this article, brought to light, many of the issues I have and continually grapple with.

✍???? According to Kate Bowler ????????‍????

“In 2018, fewer than 1 percent of American megachurches were led by a female senior pastor. This lack of women in formal leadership comes as no surprise. There is a long history of theological objection to women preaching and teaching.

Conservative women must build their careers without the educational and institutional advantages of their male counterparts. Diplomas do little to change that.

Without traditional credentials, conservative women are forced to rely on their personal connections or authority of charisma, building brands based on experience or, worse, tragedies.

Almost every popular Christian speaker has a story of walking through fire. The death of a child. An abusive childhood. A critical illness. Unless someone finds fame by relation (a pastor’s wife or daughter), it is otherwise nearly impossible to find a niche in this crowded industry. Formal qualifications matter little in a world in which a woman’s authority is found by turning her insides out.”

???????? Final Thoughts ????????‍♀️

Is tragedy the only path open to “conservative religious women”?

Will the “important symbol of spiritual power — the pulpit” be open to our daughters?

Are we content “remain(ing) a Christian Mary Poppins, practically perfect in every way”?

Will our daughters remain content with the “narrow and precarious paths of power that women tread.”?

Goal – Growth

As religious leaders, I believe our goal is growth. Striving for growth on an individual level, within our communities and ultimately within the greater world.

Proactively.

Building on what motivated our parents and grandparents, being mindful of the hearts and souls of our children – our future.

Striving to energize and inspire our entire community. Deepening our commitment and relationship with Hashem.

Always לשם שמים.

Always for the sake of Heaven.

Wishing everyone a Shabbat Shalom, Happy Sukkot, and Feast of the Tabernacles!

Within the confines of thick walls and barbed wire, we had the chance to catch up. 

I looked at your boy in his baggy green IDF uniform that he was so proud to be wearing. He was following in the bootsteps of his father and grandfather before him by defending the State of Israel. 

The circles under his eyes hinted at how exhausted he was. I inquired and he admitted that he was tired. ‘Here,’ he explained, gesturing to his army base, ‘there is always action.’

To illustrate his point, he removed the latest iPhone from his pocket, the phone you bought him for his last birthday. The phone lit up and began to play footage documenting last night’s ‘action’. I watched as images of a vicious dog filled the screen of his cellphone.  I listened to the snarling dog which was suddenly drowned out by angry shouts in guttural Arabic. This was replaced by soldiers shouting firm orders in Hebrew. The image bounced as a scuffle broke out. Finally, two men lay on the ground, their hands bound, surrounded by soldiers. A bundle wrapped in a yellow baby blanket lay on the ground. One soldier carefully unwrapped that bundle, uncovering a Kalashnikov rifle and two magazines, heavy with bullets.

Turning to me, with tired eyes that sparkled with pride, your son asked, ‘Can you imagine how many countless lives, we saved last night? This week? This month?’

I hesitated because I could imagine and the answer scared me. Instead of answering, I asked him if he had ever shown you such a  video documenting his service for our country. He shook his head and looked troubled. ’My mom doesn’t know,’ he said simply, hiding how. ‘And you,’ I asked. ‘How are you handling the weightiness of your responsibilities, for your country, for your people?’

His eyes met mine, his body involuntarily shrinking, reminding me once again, that he was, after all, your little boy. I pictured him As a child, coming downstairs, dressed in his Spider-Man pajamas, begging to sleep with the lights on. And the little boy, now in a green uniform and gun, answered my question with perhaps more honesty than I could handle. “I am terrified,’ he admitted. “During the day, we rotate shifts at various checkpoints, wearing full battle- gear, ceramic plates heavy in our vests’.  But I fulfill my duties.’ His eyes told me of everything that was left unsaid; the apprehension every time he put on the ceramic vest, every time he stopped a car, the ‘actions’ that weren’t filmed and the ones that didn’t end so nicely. 

The moment passed and your son continued telling his story, sitting up taller in his seat, his eyes bright with excitement, his voice once again brimming with confidence. ‘The fear and sleep-deprivation are not what I find the most challenging,’ he told me. ‘What I find the hardest part of national service, is the loss of freedom.’ 

‘Four more months,’ he said, making me wonder if he had also counted the days remaining. ‘I have already served two years and eight months. ‘It is a lifetime,’ he said, making me wince. But I realized for one so young, it probably seemed that way. ‘Four more months feels like an eternity,’ he continued. ‘The minute you are drafted into the army, you relinquish all control over your life. You are never free. Even when you are off duty, you know full well, that one phone call from your commander will have you back at the bus stop, waiting for the next bus to take you back to the base. I’ll do what I have to but I am ready for it to be done, ready for the next group to take over. Ready to reclaim my freedom.’

Maintaining eye contact, my neshamah, my soul tried desperately to communicate to your son what words could not. ‘You and so many others,’ I wanted to say, ‘Some compulsory and some serving voluntarily, have renounced your personal freedom and made so many sacrifices in order to give, to contribute, to participate in building our society, our future, our dream. Today, and every day we thank you.’

Lacking either the words or the courage to say them, I chose to express myself in action. Reaching down, I picked up the package,  filled with goodies and snacks that I had brought for him. Handing the package to him, I explained, the reason for my unexpected appearance at his army base.

Last week, Yahad: United for Israel’s Soldiers, kicked off the third annual IDF Appreciation Week benefiting over 50,000 soldiers, currently serving in the IDF today. Throughout the week, special events and activities were planned to thank the brave men and women of the IDF for everything they are doing for the State of Israel.

Beginning with special Fun Days, at Israel’s largest waterpark, for combat soldiers, followed by a day of relaxation and recuperation at the Shefayim Water Park. Over 7,000 lone soldiers, currently serving in the IDF, were able to relax and break away from their grueling routine. In addition, IDF soldiers were lauded for their service at a Fun Happening, in the main training base in the South of Israel, and at a special festival for IDF new recruits in Park Hayarkon, in Tel Aviv.

These seem like small gestures in the face of the load you bear. But as I watch you tear open the packages, laughing as you share the snacks with your buddies, you suddenly seem like the boy you really are under the uniform. And I smile.

I am here, at your army base, on behalf of the Rebecca, Mary Elana, Sarah, and Norman, and other devoted members of Yahad: United for Israel’s Soldiers global community. Despite, geographical distances, our community prays for your safety, supports your welfare and are extremely appreciative of your commitment to the State of Israel. Because even though you are not my son, you have put on a uniform and given up your childhood to protect all of Am Yisrael. And that makes you partly my responsibility.

Today, it is an honor and a privilege to have joined the Yahad: United for Israel’s Soldiers delegation. Together with Kaveret, a chain of convenience stores for soldiers, Yahad: United for Israel’s Soldiers has been traveling, all week, throughout Israel, visiting even the most remote outposts, distributing snacks and saying thank you to soldiers like you, for sacrificing their own freedom, in order to make Israel stronger and safer. 

Yahad understands that supporting the troops shouldn’t be limited to one week alone. As such, the welfare organization coordinates several year-long programs to give soldiers a helping hand. Since Israel’s security matters are a 24/7 affair, so too, is the need to ensure that our country’s protectors have their basic physical and psychological needs met so they can do their jobs to the best of their abilities.

Realizing, he probably had cars to check, more guns to grab from the hands of those who mean to harm Israel or most probably was ready for a nap, I made a pledge to your son. On behalf of Yahad: United for Israel’s Soldiers, we promise to continue doing everything in our power, to make the next four months of service, both on and off the base, as comfortable and pleasant as we can. 

Thank you for defending the State of Israel.

Yesterday, I met your son. Did he tell you?

This past week, I found myself traveling “Back to the Future”.

On Sunday, Dov and I drove to the Dead Sea, beta-testing awesome locations to be included in the Ultimate Trip Guide for Purim. Our first stop was to the past, to the first Beit Hamikdash, with Guy Erlich smelling the Balm of Gilead, the perfume used to anoint the Kohanim. Afterward, the time machine transported us to the future, and we witnessed the preparation of the perfumes used in the coronation of the Kohanim in the Third Beit Hamikdash.

On Monday, I traveled to the Beit Shemesh offices of Israel365, joining the talented and passionate Israel365 staff, as the digital marketing and content specialist. 

As Rabbi Tuly Weisz, introduced me to the team, I found myself headed “Back to the Future” Destination, the year 2000 at the Yeshiva University Office of Communal Service, where Rabbinical student, Tuly Weisz was presenting his newly published articles spotlighting victims of 9/11.

Traveling years into the future, I peered into the Israel365 conference room and saw myself seated next to talented colleagues and close friends, brainstorming, collaborating and executed strategies, designed to promote the beauty and religious significance of the Land of Israel with the world.

Returning to the present, I zipped my coat and prepared for my next trip, accompanying Rabbi Tuli Weisz to the Meir Panim soup kitchen in Jerusalem. A freezing day, I quickly warmed up, helping to serve lunch and chatting with friendly new olim from Spain.

Click here to read more.

Soon, the time machine beckoned, this time headed to the past. Driving down the highway towards Gush Etzion, גבעת עוז וגאון Givat Oz ve Gaon , the time machine returned to that horrific summer, hearing the fate of the three kidnapped and murdered boys.

My spirits lifted, as I returned to the present. Rabbi Tuly Weisz and I joined Women in Green, and welcomed and planted olive trees with US Congressman Andy Barr and Andy Harris.

Traveling to the future, I watched my great-grandchildren throw a frisbee, amidst the fully grown olive trees, inside the blooming and blossoming Israeli nature reserve, under the sovereignty of the Jewish people.

Today, Erev Shabbat, the time machine transports me back to a Sunday matinee at the Hillel Community Day School auditorium in North Miami Beach, Florida. I watch my younger self, dressed in costume, boldly crossing stage left and reciting memorized lines. My gaze shifts to the handsome man standing in the audience, shouting “Yocheved” and taking Polaroid pictures – Grandpa Irving – Yitzchak ben Yosef, Irving Eichenbaum a”h. Traveling back to the present, I hug your namesake, Charlie Yitzchak, and am comforted that your memory is intact. We remember you today, on your seventh yartzeit, and hope to continue your legacy.

Shabbat is quickly approaching here in Israel. The time machine is parked, and I hope to spend Shabbat, mindfully focused on the present.

With the help of G-d, the future holds more High Energy adventures… I’ll keep you posted and hope you will “Go With Yo”!