Jewish law vs. Democracy

“Let justice well up as the waters, and righteousness as a mighty stream.” (Amos 5:24)

I'm not sure why, but I always felt democracy and Judaism coexisted, albeit uncomfortably, here in Israel. I always thought it was amazing, yet somehow worked here. I felt great pride over this fact.

A couple days ago I saw a film titled Mekudeshet: Sentenced to Marriage. The film documents the lives of three women trying to get the Rabbanut, several rabbis who sit on a court panel, to get their husbands to grant them a get. These women are not halachically agunot (though in America we lump them into this category), women whose husbands have disappeared so no one can prove they are dead, so they are chained to their marriages. These are women who in Israel are called by the halachik term "misorevot get", women being refused a get by their husbands. Now I know for sure Israel is not a true democratic country, nor will it ever be until the government changes the 1953 law that put the Rabbanut in control of all Jewish marriages and divorces. The Rabbanut's jurisdiction extends to Jews of all strips, including secular ones.

My Pardes teacher, Yaffa Epstein, volunteers with Mavoi Satum, an organization that helps Jewish women navigate the Rabbanut and provides emotional support to them as well. The process for a Jewish woman to get a divorce is so unbelievable it's hard to put into words. Mavoi Satum estimates that there are 10,000 misorevot get in Israel today. Under halacha, a man has to, out of his own free will, grant the get. Even though Rambam (12th cent. Spain) and the Tosefot (medieval French commentators on mishna) say the rabbinic court can use physical, social and financial leverage to compel the husband, today the Rabbanut is very reluctant to do this. The Israeli government says that if the Rabbanut wants to get a husband to grant the get they have the power to freeze his bank account, take away his driver's license, his passport, throw him in jail for six months, and more. But the Rabbanut is not eager to ever do this, even when the husband admits to having extramarital affairs, the wife testifies to domestic violence or child abuse. Neither domestic violence nor child abuse are considered valid halachikally Jewish reasons to get a divorce.

Why on earth would the Rabbanut want to keep such marriages together though? Yaffa says the Rabbanut feels they have to be the defenders of marriage, even though that's not their prescribed role. Israel has a very low divorce rate--about 30%--and they feel largely responsible for this. They also want to avoid creating a "mamzer", the offspring of a married Jewish woman and a Jewish man with whom she has an affair. If the Rabbanut were to force the husband to grant the get, but it turned out it wasn't out of his own "free will", then technically the get would be considered invalid and could be overturned. The woman would still be married when/if she married someone else and had a child (aka a mamzer now). Under Jewish law in Israel, the mamzer can only marry another mamzer and is placed in a special category in halakha.

What's truly horrible is that many of these women are stuck in abusive relationships, or with unfaithful husbands, or husbands who have left them and have started new families. Some of these men just want to avoid paying child support (overseen by the rabbanut or civil courts), so they refuse the get. Others are abusive and want to hold on to their wives. These women are chained and cannot remarry or move on with their lives. Mekudeshet is a very upsetting movie, but one that I would absolutely recommend.

Mavoi Sautum: http://www.mavoisatum.org

Of course there are many other upsetting examples that have always come to mind about Israel and its relationship to democracy, regarding the Jewish laws in place in the state. But they did not bother me as much in the past because they didn't seem as insane or harmful as the marriage/divorce law.

After I became so infuriated by this, I became angry at myself that only this situation made me realize this country disrespects the civil rights of its citizens. I thought about the Arab children with whom I've been playing basketball at Yad V'Yad. What are their lives like? What kind of awareness do they have about living under Jewish law? What impact, positive and negative, does this have on their lives?

I don't feel comfortable as an American--I don't feel the kids understand why I'm there or why I care about hanging out with them. Some have fun with us and enjoy our company, but our interactions are so limited and only on basketball, that I think we all find it confusing. I'm happy to play basketball with them, but I hope this experience impacts them as well.

I have some understanding of the discrimination that goes on in this country, I certainly hear Israelis and Arabs say hateful things about one another, but I place Arab-Israeli relations in a category all its own that extends beyond Israel. Why does Israel have a war on the Jewish women of its country?

Reading the "tzedek u'mashpat" lines in Amos feels hollow in the Jewish state.

Questions at Peace Players

It is important to me that while I’m studying at Pardes I don’t become disconnected from Jerusalem itself, the people and the tensions they face. Isn’t that sort of the point of service learning? Without realizing it, I could just study at Pardes everyday, hang out in my neighborhood of Emek Refaim, and forget to connect the Jewish learning I do during the day with my actions outside of the beit midrash. While I fully embrace Torah l'shma, I also view Torah as a means for changing society. Learning can be the easier part, but taking that learning and doing something meaningful with it requires time, energy, patience and coordination. Every Tuesday afternoon Pardesniks spend a few hours volunteering at different non-profits around Jerusalem. It’s not a requirement, but it’s highly encouraged. Many tutor kids who live in vulnerable neighborhoods like East Talpiyot near Pardes, visit with Ethiopian families or sing at a home for the elderly.

Pardes' community service would be strengthened if occasionally our learning tied into our service, but that can be something I do on my own.

I have just started volunteering with Peace Players, an agency which ventures into conflict areas around the world and uses basketball as a means to combat hatred and ignorance. Israel’s Peace Players is based in several schools around the country. Arab and Jewish Israelis play on basketball teams together and compete against other schools. I and several other Pardesniks go to the Yad V’Yad ("Hand in Hand")School in the Pat neighborhood of Jerusalem. So far, I've been once. Yad V’Yad is the only school of its kind, so I’ve been told, in Jerusalem. The K-10 school has a Hebrew speaking and an Arabic speaking teacher in every classroom. The students, a balanced mix of Arab and Jewish, graduate confidently speaking Arabic and Hebrew. When it comes to teaching religious subjects like Tanakh or Qur’an, the classes split up. I’m interested in learning more about the curriculum at this school—for instance how is the holocaust taught? The nakba, Israeli history? The Arab schools in Jerusalem do not have as many resources as the Jewish ones, and Yad V’Yad has an excellent reputation academically and as a model for coexistence.

The middle school boys team we are playing with have been involved with Peace Players for three years, but they have only been a unified team for one year. The team is made up of Jewish students not from Yad V’Yad and Arab students from the school. During the first year, the kids play on “single identity” teams: the Jewish boys from West Jerusalem on one team and the Arab students on another team. Then, in the second year, Peace Players brings the teams together for friendly competitions so they can get to know each other, and by the third year, they mix with other teams. The teams play together through high school. Some students drop off along the way, but many stick with it, Jenny, a Peace Players coordinator told me.

The head coach, Osnat, talks to the kids like a military commander addressing her soldiers. We participated in the basketball drills and played a scrimmage with the kids. I got to talk with a few of them, trying to learn names and personalities. I’m hoping to observe their team dynamics—are they mixing socially? How well do they work together? What does this team mean to them? It's difficult, as it would be getting to know any middle school boys, but especially because of our language barriers. I can tell the kids are excited and intimidated by our presence. I'm going to work hard to communicate with them.

I only heard Hebrew being spoken by the players, and Osnat only spoke in Hebrew. I asked Jenny about this, and she said sometimes they have coaches who speak in Arabic. Language plays such a crucial role in building community at the school, that I wonder how shared and not-shared language impacts this team.

Yad V'Yad: http://www.handinhandk12.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=content.display&pageID=72