Rabbi Rothstein serves as Rosh Kollel at the HAFTR Community Kollel, a charter member of the YU Global
Kollel Initiative.
For many women, exclusion from meaningful participation in the public service, including aliyyot to the Torah,
is the starkest and most grating example of what they perceive as Orthodoxy's insufficient sensitivity to their
needs as spiritual beings. Rabbi Mendel Shapiro, arguing that innovation helps insure a system's
adaptability to new challenges while still balancing stability and flexibility, suggested that contemporary
realities create many halakhic opportunities for women to be called up to the Torah and receive aliyyot.1 R.
Shapiro is not the only one to have made this argument,2 but his article in an Orthodox journal sponsored by
Edah has been identified most frequently and prominently as the supporting evidence for a small number of
Orthodox congregations having adopted this practice, most notably Congregation Shira Hadasha in
Jerusalem. Both for its inherent interest as an attempt to mine sources creatively and for its impact on the
current Orthodox world, R. Shapiro's analysis deserves serious consideration.
Alongside his article, Edah published a rejoinder by Rabbi Yehuda Herzl Henkin, author of several books
including four volumes of Responsa Benei Banim.3 R. Henkin is a strongly independent-minded halakhic
thinker open to innovation, and his moderated acceptance of some of R. Shapiro's ideas gives them all that
much more credibility. R. Henkin's overall view, however, was negative, concluding that congregations that
allow women's aliyyot are ''not Orthodox in name and will not long remain Orthodox in practice.''4 He was
somewhat more comfortable with women receiving aliyyot both in some private minyanim and in the
women's section of regular synagogues on Simhat Torah, as we will see below. R. Shapiro argued in return
that elements of R. Henkin's own reasoning supported his view, a contention R. Henkin denied in a brief final
response.
Analyzing R. Shapiro's ideas is no simple task, as he presented a detailed and lengthy brief in support of his
claims. Relevant to this discussion are his thoughts on the obligation of public Torah reading, whether
women can enter the men's section to read, and the impact of kol isha—often interpreted as a prohibition on
hearing women sing in public—on Torah reading.
Our discussion here will instead focus on his core arguments, those that directly justify a community's
changing its practice to allow women's aliyyot. In doing so, we will pay attention to R. Shapiro's claims, R.
Henkin's responses, and the comments of readers who wrote in to Edah.
R. SHAPIRO'S ARGUMENTS
In brief summary, R. Shapiro claims:
1) The only impediment to women being called to the Torah is the talmudic statement (found similarly in the
Tosefta) that the Sages took away the option of women being called up among the seven olim on Shabbat
morning because of kevod ha-tsibbur, loosely translatable as ''dignity'' of the congregation.
2) ''Dignity'' reflected a social reality. In our times, when women's functioning in public does not affront
sensibilities, communities should be able to redefine their ''dignity.''
3) To the extent that ''dignity'' still applies, halakha allows communities to choose to waive, forego, or ignore
the issue.
4) The ba'al keri'a mitigates ''dignity'' even further, since the woman is not herself reading.
5) ''Dignity'' only applies to actual congregations. Services held outside a regular congregational setting—ad
hoc or impromptu—need not worry about ''dignity.''
Though other points are discussed, these are most central to R. Shapiro's argument. We will take them up
seriatim.
ONLY ''DIGNITY'' PREVENTS WOMEN READING THE TORAH
R. Shapiro's first point accurately represents the talmudic evidence, which explicitly acknowledges that
women and children may be included among the seven, but for that the Sages said (or instituted) that women
should not read because of kevod ha-tsibbur, the ''dignity of the congregation.''5 The proper understanding of
that statement raises questions that govern any reconsideration of women's aliyyot, such as: Did the Rabbis
institute a prohibition on women's reading or register their opinion of it? Were women originally allowed to
read any of the seven aliyyot or only some, and, if so, which? What does ''dignity'' mean? Can its meaning
change? Can it be waived?
IMPROMPTU SERVICES NEED NOT CARE ABOUT DIGNITY OF THE CONGREGATION
Least broadly, R. Shapiro tries to distinguish readings inside a synagogue from all others. Ad hoc or
impromptu services, he argues, do not acquire the status of a congregation and therefore sidestep the
concern over ''dignity.'' Accepting this view would be the least revolutionary way to allow women's aliyyot, since
all it does is limit the application of ''dignity.''6 An immediate flaw with this claim is that at least some sources
explicitly apply ''dignity'' to any gathering of ten adult Jewish men.7
R. Shapiro does not address those sources directly, but he does cite Rambam, Bah, Mahzor Vitry, and Sefer
ha-Batim. Each of these takes a different place in the halakhic universe; as we take up their comments, we
will need to consider not only whether we agree with his reading, but whether the views provide sufficient
support for the weight R. Shapiro gives them.
Rambam
R. Shapiro reads Rambam as equating community with synagogue in his view of Torah reading in general
and in women's readings,8 among others. Considering Rambam's stature in Jewish thought generally and
halakha specifically, his support would be crucial.
R. Shapiro notes that Rambam recorded the laws of Torah reading only after codifying the requirement to
build a synagogue in chapter 11 of Hilkhot Tefilla.9 Rambam also adds the word be-tsibbur (before the
congregation) when he records the ''dignity'' problem of women's reading, implying that such problems exist
only before a congregation. For R. Shapiro, that means in a synagogue.
Rambam's opening words in the eighth chapter of Hilkhot Tefilla further link community to synagogue, in R.
Shapiro's reading:
The prayer of the congregation (tefillat ha-tsibbur) is always heard, and even if there are sinners amongst
them, the Holy One blessed be He does not refuse the prayers of the multitude. Accordingly, a person should
participate with the congregation (ha-tsibbur) and should not pray alone (be-yahid) whenever he can pray with
the congregation, and one should visit the synagogue in the morning and evening because it is only in the
synagogue that his prayer will always be heard.
Rambam further implies a community/synagogue link in his comments on using a humash (partial scroll) for
Torah readings. R. Shapiro cites the Talmud's rejection of reading from such a scroll—written exactly like a
Torah but containing only one of the books of the Bible— as proof that congregations only exist in
synagogues, since Gittin 60a explicitly mentions ''synagogue'' in that context.10
In this last case, R. Henkin argues that Rambam's mention of synagogues actually points away from R.
Shapiro's conclusion for women, since Rambam does not refer to synagogues when he mentions women's
exclusion from reading in public. His mentioning synagogues only in some of the references to ''dignity''
would seem to say that a synagogue is not necessary to that concept.11
R. Henkin does accept R. Shapiro's claim that partial scrolls are only a problem in communal readings in a
synagogue, despite Shulhan Arukh's omitting this locution in codifying the rule. R. Yosef Karo's flatly
prohibiting reading from such scrolls indicates that he saw ''dignity'' as independent of location.12
Moving back to Rambam, his addition of the words ''in synagogues'' seems not to carry the weight R. Shapiro
assigns it, since he cites the talmudic statement in two of his responsa without those words.13 If, as Rabbis
Shapiro and Henkin assume, Rambam meant to emphasize that partial scrolls present a problem only in
that kind of location, those words should have been crucial. Rambam also clearly invalidates such scrolls
generally, not just because of a technical ''dignity'' issue.14 R. Shapiro would have to argue, then, that
Rambam meant to permit using invalid Torah scrolls as long as it was done outside a physical synagogue.
We suggest instead that Rambam equated community with synagogue as a matter of fact and assumption,
not as a legal category. Particularly in the citation above, Rambam was contrasting individual to communal
prayer, urging Jews to partake of the latter. For him, that meant attending synagogue, but he also refers
to ''whoever has a synagogue in his city.'' Some congregations do not have synagogues; members of such a
community must still join congregational prayer.
Bayit Hadash (=Bah ; R. Joel Sirkes)
R. Shapiro writes that:
[The] understanding of kevod ha-tsibbur as referring to public settings appears also in Bah:
In all matters where the issue of the ''dignity of the congregation'' arises with respect to qeri'at ha-Torah, it is
of concern as well with respect to the reading of the Megillah, because the same reasoning applies to both
cases. Accordingly, it would appear that although Rambam holds that women may read Megillah on behalf of
men, nonetheless a woman should not ab initio read [the Megillah] before the congregation because of
kevod ha-tsibbur, just as is the case of qeri'at haTorah.
Presumably, (R. Shapiro concludes) a woman may read the Torah, just
as she may read the Megillah, if she does so privately and not before the
congregation.15
Bah understood Rambam to allow a woman to read the Book of Esther for a man in private, but objected to
her reading publicly because of ''dignity.'' For R. Shapiro, this means that non-congregational readings which
he sees as private need not worry about ''dignity.'' R. Henkin does not explicitly address this claim.
According to the Tur—the codificatory work Bah glossed—and Bah himself, ''public'' and ''private'' depend on
male numbers, not location: ten men are a public congregation. The Tur contrasted reading be-yahid,
individually, to reading publicly with ten. In Rabbinic Hebrew, the counterpart to be-yahid is be-tsibbur, in a
congregation. The Tur's comment assumes that the presence of ten men, regardless of location, constitutes
a congregation.
Bah makes that explicit by citing Ran's (R. Nissim of Gerona) assertion that even Rav—the talmudic scholar
who allowed individual Megilla reading—preferred that people join a congregation. Ran sees Rav as saying
that despite the value of congregational reading, the Sages chose not to burden people by insisting that they
gather a group of ten. The topic is congregational versus individual reading, but Bah never suggests that
location has any relevance to the status of being a congregation.
Mahzor Vitry and Sefer ha-Batim
As we mentioned at the beginning of this section, R. Shapiro cites Mahzor Vitry and Sefer ha-Batim as further
support for his view. R. Henkin noted that neither was mentioned or cited by other authorities, implying that
their view was not accepted.16 Their own standing in the world of halakha is insufficiently high to serve as the
sole supporters of such an innovation.
The citation from Mazhor Vitry also does not help R. Shapiro as much as he claims. In order to justify a group
of ten men not reciting Hallel on Rosh Hodesh, Mahzor Vitry writes:17 ''Perhaps ten who left the congregation
are regarded as individuals when they pray by themselves behind [i.e., outside] the synagogue.'' As
individuals, they would not need to partake of a practice Mahzor Vitry views as communal.
Mahzor Vitry perhaps supports the narrow claim that women could read at ad hoc or impromptu gatherings,
but could not support the services that currently call women for aliyyot regularly. Since Mahzor Vitry is
discussing ten men who on a particular occasion broke off from the main group, he cannot be seen as
saying anything about regularly occurring services located outside a synagogue.
Location outside of a synagogue might be necessary to exempt a group from congregational rules and
responsibilities, but it is not sufficient for it. Once a group meets regularly, regardless of where, Mahzor Vitry
too would likely see them as a new, separate congregation.
Turning to Sefer ha-Batim, R. David b. Samuel of Estelle reports:
One of the great teachers (unidentified) wrote that [with respect to] those who pray in their homes18 with [a
minyan of] ten, a woman may read the Torah there, because [a minyan] is regarded as a congregation
(tsibbur) only when they pray in the synagogue.19
Obviously, this agrees exactly with R. Shapiro, allowing women to read in a private home service regardless
of how often it meets. R. Henkin mentions that Sefer ha-Batim does not tell us the name of the teacher to
whom he was referring, crucial to its halakhic weight.20
Leaving the question of sources aside, R. Shapiro's argument has an internal inconsistency he seems not to
have noticed. He takes the reasonable position that reading the Torah is a communal and not a personal
obligation,21 but that should mean that reading the Torah inherently occurs in the presence of a
congregation.22 If ad hoc groups are not congregations, even if they do not need to care about ''dignity,'' they
also should not be able to serve to fulfill congregational responsibilities.23
While this was only the first of several significant arguments for his position, our examination of his citations
has shown that R. Shapiro does not have sufficient support for it. There is little halakhically meaningful
evidence to suggest that groups of ten, regardless of where or how often they meet, can ignore issues
of ''dignity.'' Having women read the Torah outside of the synagogue certainly came up in Jewish history, but
never entered the halakhic mainstream as a reasonable option.24
FOREGOING COMMUNAL ''DIGNITY''
Those Who Allow
R. Shapiro next suggested that communities could agree to ignore whatever affront a woman's aliyya would
create. This, too, leaves the talmudic objection untouched, but would effectively remove the barrier to
women's aliyyot for whoever wants to do so. Since no source explicitly refers to foregoing ''dignity'' in terms of
women's aliyyot,25 R. Shapiro has to extrapolate his claim from other situations where such waiving is
allowed.
Before we review the sources, we should mention that R. Henkin accepts R. Shapiro's idea, but requires
unanimous and explicit consent to effect such a communal foregoing of ''dignity.'' He further assumes that
only occasional services meeting in private meet this requirement since attendance itself registers an
agreement to foregoing ''dignity.''26
The question of whether a community can appoint a cantor whose beard is not yet full presents the most
widely accepted example of ignoring ''dignity.'' The Talmud (Hullin 24b) enunciates the rule in positive form,
that one whose beard has filled in is worthy of serving as cantor. Rambam assumes the Talmud meant this
as an issue of ''dignity.'' In his Bet Yosef, R. Yosef Karo assumes that Rashba, Ran, and Rambam all saw
this ''dignity'' as a choice, not communal obligation.
That case cannot fully serve as support for ours, however, because of the significant differences between the
two. Rashba and Ran explicitly (and Rambam implicitly) understood the Talmud to prefer one with a full
beard, not prohibit one without. They also read the issue as relevant to appointing a regular or permanent
cantor, not whether a younger man could occasionally lead the services. Finally, it was Rambam, not the
Talmud, who characterized this as a ''dignity'' issue; for talmudically defined cases of ''dignity,'' waiving might
be more problematic.
Numerous authorities also permitted ignoring ''dignity'' to allow publicly rolling the Torah scroll to its proper
place. Here, as R. Shapiro correctly noted, the lack of ''dignity'' was the inconvenience to ''the congregation by
having it sit idly during the performance of ministerial tasks.''27 Other situations where the ''dignity'' principle
is mentioned, such as women's aliyyot, reading from a partial scroll, or hiring a tooyoung cantor, differ in kind
from the indignity of inconvenience. Comments about how to handle or ignore one kind of ''dignity'' need not
apply to the other.
Peri Hadash offered more support for voluntary setting aside of ''dignity'' since he allowed reading from partial
scrolls, which, like women's aliyyot, is not an issue of simple inconvenience.28 Still, he was dealing with a
temporary strategy for how to handle a less than ideal situation, which would presumably revert to
the ''dignified'' mode as soon as possible. R. Shapiro is arguing for a regular waiver of ''dignity'' with no
intention to change back in the future.
To draw the contrast more clearly, it seems obvious that Peri Hadash would not allow a community that
possessed a valid scroll to simply choose to read from a partial one, but R. Shapiro is suggesting that
communities have exactly that right, to willingly and unlimitedly set aside their ''dignity.'' So too, incidentally,
rolling a Torah scroll would seem to be a question of a particular occasion, not a regular practice of waiting
until the community is gathered before preparing the scrolls for that day's reading.29
Appointing a young cantor is a more regularized foregoing of waiving, but only until he matures; as Abba Eban
once said when asked about the low median age of the State of Israel, it is a problem that passes with time.
In each case other than R. Shapiro's, the foregoing is temporary and situational.
R. Henkin explicitly rejects the difference between temporary and permanent surrender of ''dignity''—without
supporting proof or argumentation— in response to a questioner who had suggested it.30 We find the
questioner's position more reasonable, since to temporarily forego ''dignity'' is to yield to the force of
circumstance. To ignore it permanently is to declare a lack of concern with the Rabbis' perspective of proper
communal conduct.31
The Significance of the Opposition to Foregoing ''Dignity''
When R. Yosef Karo cited authorities who allowed appointing young cantors, he also noted that Rosh flatly
prohibited it. Bah thinks even Rambam and Rashba agreed with that position, meaning there was significant
opposition to waiving ''dignity'' even in the easiest case.32 In addition, the reason Bah gives for opposing
waiver of ''dignity'' could have been accepted elsewhere even by those who here allowed it.
R. Shapiro saw the debate on this issue as a question of whether ''dignity'' was a matter of ''kevod ha-tsibbur
or . . . kevod shamayim, the glory of heaven. . . .''33 He more explicitly connects Bah's view to a concern with
heaven's ''dignity'' later, when he notes the ''vigorous opposition of R. Yoel Sirkis (Bah), who held that kevod
ha-tsibbur in fact represented kevod shamayim and hence could not be waived.''34 According to him, Bah
also ''argued that decentralizing the concept of kevod ha-tsibbur would splinter the community.''35
In fact, Bah does not refer to kevod shamayim, the ''dignity'' of heaven;36 claiming that he does misdirects the
real focus of his comment. Bah says:
The interpretation of ''because of the dignity of the congregation'' is not that it is an affront to their dignity before
people . . . but the meaning is that it is not the dignity of the congregation to send before Him, may He be
exalted, one who has no glory of the face (a beard) to speak on the community's behalf.
To this point, perhaps, one might still argue that Bah was contrasting ''dignity'' of the community with dignity of
God. Later in the chapter, though, Bah concludes:
Rather, the matter is simply that since the Sages . . . were concerned about the ''dignity of the congregation,''
the congregation does not have the ability to forego it, and further if they did, all of these areas where the
Sages instituted rules because of the ''dignity of the congregation''— not to roll the Torah scroll in the
congregation, and so too that a woman should not read in the congregation [other examples] . . . if so, the
Sages accomplished nothing with their institutions, for any community will forego and further that Israel will
splinter into groups. . . .37
Seeing a longer excerpt of Bah's comment shows that he thought communities could not set aside
their ''dignity,'' because the Sages had meant their rules to be objective and universal. Given the importance
of how a community presents itself to God (for the community, not for God), Bah saw the Sages as insisting
on certain standards of conduct. In his reading, they consciously chose not to rely on communities' self-
perception out of a mistrust of the choices those communities would make.
Knowing that Bah thought the Rabbis were concerned with guaranteeing a certain level of communal self-
respect also explains why they would insist on universality. As long as the rules of ''dignity'' are uniform, they
will remain in force. Once they become a matter for each community to define, we have lost the point of
instituting ''dignity'' at all.
Two of Bah's assertions about ''dignity'' are particularly relevant to women's aliyyot. First, he treats it as a rule,
not a custom; if true of women's aliyyot, it makes change more technically difficult than just deciding to ignore
it. Second, he reminds us that the Sages sometimes imposed objective and uniform standards. These views
could easily be accepted in our case even by those who disagreed with Bah, particularly if they only allowed
rolling Torah scrolls (an issue of bother).
Rabbi Henkin and Explicit, Unanimous Consent
As we have mentioned, R. Henkin allowed waiving ''dignity'' only with unanimous and explicit communal
consent. Aside from failing to provide any supporting evidence for that position, R. Henkin also fails to support
his further claim that only occasional and private services have implicit unanimous consent.
R. Henkin was perhaps following his halakhic intuition that aliyyot in a private setting are less problematic
than in a public one, but he ended up taking a position that is neither supported nor consistent. If all we need
is explicit, unanimous consent, there is no reason to limit that to private, occasional services. If more is
needed, he has failed to properly define the standards that apply.
DEFINING ''DIGNITY''
Portraying ''Dignity'' as Socially Based
In the discussion so far, R. Shapiro suggested allowing women's aliyyot without affecting the validity of the
talmudic assertion that kevod hatsibbur militates against them. His main argument, though, was that the
definition of ''dignity'' shifts with changes in society. R. Shapiro reviews Ritva's discussion of the topic and
concludes that
kevod ha-tsibbur, defined by Ritva as ''me'arah'' is not an essential halakhic category . . . . Certainly we today
would feel an aversion towards any person of means who supported his parents from funds that should be
allocated to charity. But would we intuitively feel the same towards a person who had his wife or son say the
grace after meals on his behalf? . . . Perhaps it is time to consider whether…the dignity of the congregation
should be defined to include all synagogue attendees, men, women, and youngsters.38
Further on, he asserts that the need to ask
the question—''what is kevod ha-tsibbur?''—confirms that we have lost the immediate, intuitive understanding
of why women may not read the Torah. Kevod ha-tsibbur is a social sensitivity, and the fact that it must be
interpreted to us shows how far removed we are from the social culture of the Talmud. It is not surprising that
the commentators on the baraita did not explain why qeri'at ha-Torah by women violated the ''dignity of the
congregation.'' In light of women's cultural situation and status at the time, no explanation was required.39
Even when discussing Bah, who opposes waiving ''dignity,'' R. Shapiro finds comfort in his agreeing that it
only applied le-khathila, leading him to write:
We have already seen that R. Joel Sirkus (sic) [Bah] regarded kevod hatsibburas an ab initio concept. Thus,
despite his position that the congregation may not waive its dignity, it would appear that Bah considered the
disqualification of women from qeri'at ha-Torah, even if it is said to protect kevod shamayim, to reflect
essentially aesthetic, cultural sensitivities. Just as a community should choose the imposing figure over the
wise man to represent it before the Lord, so the congregation should not denigrate qeri'at ha-Torah by
performing it through women. This line of thought is out of tune with modern perceptions, even those of most
Orthodox circles.40< * >
I have quoted R. Shapiro at such length to lay bare his underlying contentions—''dignity of the congregation''
reflected the social judgment of the Rabbis, was an essentially social concept, was ab initio, and should
therefore adjust with the times.
Two central flaws mar his thesis, making it halakhically unreliable. First, ab initio mistranslates le-khathila.
Second, reading ''dignity'' as a social construct ignores complexities of the topic.
Le-khathila Does Not Indicate a Social Construct
R. Shapiro repeatedly attaches an inappropriate importance to the lekhathila standing of the prohibition of
women's reading. Three examples:
1) When he summarizes R. David Pardo's position, he writes that R. Pardo ''in principle permits women to
read all aliyyot, but prohibits it in practice, ab initio,''41 which implies that the objection to women's aliyyot was
practical. Absent that technical problem, women could read.
2) Recall what R. Shapiro saw as a paradox between Bah's prohibiting waiving and his seeing the issue as
le-khathila. For him, that proved that Bah viewed ''dignity'' as reflecting ''essentially aesthetic, cultural
sensitivities,''42 since le-khathila implies a nonessential rule. In addition, R. Shapiro claims that
Bah's ''opposition to waiver... must be seen as acting along a very narrow band, as Bah himself holds that
kevod hatsibburis no more than an ab initio concept.''43
3) R. Shapiro thinks our need to explain ''dignity'' shows that it was socially based. The first two of those
statements relies on a faulty identification of le-khathila and ab initio. Ab initio means a preferred mode of
conduct, the ideal way of performing a certain act. Le-khathila is sometimes used that way, but in technical
halakhic terms defines the necessary ways of performing an act. The fact that a sub-optimal version may also
be halakhically acceptable after the fact does not change the le-khathila necessity of the proper mode of
fulfillment.
Turning to the examples, R. Pardo did not mean to allow women's aliyyot ''in principle''; he was discussing
how to act where a woman had already approached to read. Forced to choose between actively insulting the
woman by sending her away or passively foregoing communal ''dignity,'' he chose the latter. Rather than
discussing what was true ''in principle,'' R. Pardo was analyzing how to deal with a situation gone wrong.44
Bah's prohibiting communal waiver of ''dignity'' presents no contradiction to his assumption that the rule was
instituted le-khathila, since the first discusses the proper way to act while the second deals with how to
respond either to an already-performed improper act or to circumstances that force an improper performance.
For R. Shapiro's third point, our lack of immediate comprehension of kevod ha-tsibbur does not mean that it
was a social construct, just a halakhic one. Until immersed in sources, we similarly cannot know what the
Rabbis meant by their rules for the nullification of particles of prohibited food (bittul), cooking on Shabbat, and
a host of other talmudic ideas that made sense in the Sages' halakhic world, not their social one. Indeed,
much of Torah study involves elucidating halakhic concepts not sufficiently clarified in earlier sources.
''Dignity'' Defined
R. Shapiro's view of the meaning of le-khathila helped him justify his claim that kevod ha-tsibbur reflected the
society Hazal inhabited. As R. Henkin pointed out, though, Ritva provided an earlier and systemically coherent
reading of ''dignity'' that had nothing to do with Hazal's view of women. Given a choice between dismissing
Hazal's view as dependent on their social circumstances and accepting the only view ''clearly elaborated in
the rishonim,'' we fall in with R. Henkin in concluding that ''there is no justification for having recourse to
explanations such as that kevod ha-tsibbur means that women's participation is intrinsically degrading and
denigrating.''45
Ritva, as R. Shapiro mentioned, linked the ''dignity'' issue in women's reading Megillat Esther for men to
another talmudic category: me'era (cursed).46 Another example of me'era, where the Rabbis cursed a
person who engaged in certain ways of fulfilling a mitsva is having one's wife or son recite Birkat ha-Mazon
for oneself. R. Shapiro assumes that the curse stems from this person's fulfilling
the narrow requirements of the law in a manner that discloses their own spiritual impoverishment. . . . At least
as understood by Ritva, an illiterate man should recite hallel or birkat ha-mazon by repeating after a woman
or hear Megillah from a woman reader rather than forego performance of the mitzvah. But woe unto him who
is reduced to such shame and disgrace.47
Crucial to this passage is the assumption that it was the listener's implied ignorance that offended the
Rabbis, a view apparently supported by Rashi. R. Henkin accepts that idea, leading him to the novel
suggestion that women might be able to read the Torah whenever it would not imply a lack of learning among
the assembled men. As with consent, though, R. Henkin gives only to take away, and unconvincingly at that.
In his view, again unsupported by argumentation or sources, women's reading implies ignorance unless it
is ''superfluous from the standpoint both of its ordinal number [i.e., it is not part of the required number of
readings for that day] and its contents [it is not part of the required reading for the day].''48 That effectively
limits the idea to Simhat Torah, when the multiple readings satisfy both conditions.
Leaving that aside, R. Henkin is too quick to assume that only Simhat Torah does not imply ignorance.49
Consider, for example, a case where it is absolutely obvious that the assembled men know how to read on
their own—a convention of professional Torah readers, for example. There too, the woman's reading could
not possibly imply anything about men, and R. Henkin should allow for women's reading.
Furthermore, R. Henkin's reasoning supports R. Shapiro's claim that the institution of a ba'al keri'a should
take away the problem. Since the men are being read for (precisely to avoid embarrassing the ignorant), a
woman's standing next to the ba'al keri'a should mean nothing more than when a man does so.
Accepting R. Henkin's view, in other words, means that we should come to agree with R. Shapiro in practice
(at least because of the ba'al keri'a); indeed, R. Shapiro correctly pointed out that R. Henkin's responsum
refused to sanction women's aliyyot only because custom has not allowed them and because such a
practice would support the ''assimilationists.''50
R. Henkin's reading of Ritva, though, sees the Sages as responding to the wrong problem. If the Sages were
bothered by the man's ignorance, they should have turned their harsh language against the ignorance itself
(''cursed be the man who does not know how to recite Grace''), not on his relying on others for assistance.
We find it more plausible to believe that Ritva (and Rashi) only assumed the ignorance of the person whose
wife says Birkat ha-Mazon or Hallel for him because they knew of a different reason to avoid having wives,
slaves, or children serve as the agent of mitsva. That prior barrier made it clear that only an ignorant man
would act in a way that incurred the Rabbis' wrath.51
R. Henkin's questioner argues that having one's wife read Birkat ha-Mazon or Hallel denigrates the mitsva.52
In the case of Hallel, the wife is not obligated at all; in Birkat ha-Mazon, R. Henkin argues that Ritva held that
the wife and child in question were equally obligated. As he mentions in his responsum, though, the Talmud
objected even to two people joining together for Grace. That objection would mean that only an ignorant man
would rely on others' recitation to count as his own. The mention of wife and child may simply reflect likely
candidates for an ignorant father to turn to; the me'era stems not from his ignorance but from the inherently
problematic strategy his ignorance forces him to employ.
Transferring that view to women's aliyyot means that we would see the Rabbis as opposing women's
reading because of some denigration of the mitsva implied by such reading. R. Henkin notes that the reading
by male children does not imply ignorance because the children are being trained to be members of the
community.53 Ignorance is only implied, then, if we have another reason the person should not read; for
women, we need to find that reason.
The most plausible suggestion is that having women read the Torah affronts communal ''dignity'' because
they are not generally members of the obligated public community.54 Relying on someone who is not
usually—and in the case of Torah reading, not at all—a member of the public community suggests that the
regular members were either unable or chose not to shoulder their communal responsibilities (out of
ignorance or apathy).55 Outsourcing obligations betrays an undignified attitude toward the obligation itself;
educating future members of the congregation does not.
The Obligatory Community
My claim that women's lesser obligation in communal worship makes their reading the Torah an affront
to ''dignity'' might not sound sensible in an environment where performing a public communal function is
seen as a privilege rather than an obligation. R. Shapiro himself seems to adhere to this view, twice noting
that if his analysis is ''tenable, by what moral justification may women be denied a halakhic privilege. . . ?''56
The ''privilege'' view of communal participation misreads the role of the synagogue. In setting up society, the
Torah separated private, personal actions and responsibilities from those engaged by and incumbent upon
the community as a corporate entity. In that corporate entity, men were assigned the responsibility of ensuring
the performance of the various communal functions.57
Those men, however, were not privileged to join that community; they were obligated to, whenever possible.
So too, the public congregation meets God regularly not only because it benefits from so doing, but because
the Rabbis required it. Letting others fulfill those obligations portrays it as a burden, an attitude the Rabbis
reasonably found undignified.
Many communities today have become places to attend as desired and to benefit from as needed; in such
circumstances, men's greater participation is simply an unfair advantage. In a proper Jewish community
where men realize and perform their communal responsibilities, the lack of ''dignity'' in having outsiders
perform communal functions would be clearer and less offensive.58
THE READER
We earlier noted that R. Henkin's focus on implied ignorance helps R. Shapiro's argument that the universal
use of a ba'al keri'a, a set Torah reader, makes a woman's aliyya less problematic, since the woman is not
actually reading and the institution itself assumes the prevalence of ignorance.
R. Henkin mentions that his grandfather, R. Yosef Eliyahu Henkin z''l, understood the custom of appointing a
reader as based on a Tosefta that says that where only one person knows how to read, that person reads,
sits down, and gets up again to read (to make seven separate portions).
The younger R. Henkin then writes:
There is, in effect, only one person reading the entire portion, and the original enactment of seven individual
readers has been superceded. The poseqim comment that the blessings recited by the olim demarcate
between the aliyyot, making it unnecessary for the reader to physically sit down and stand up each time.
I added [in Benei Banim I:4, p. 17, and II:7, p. 30] that according to this, considerations of kevod ha-tsibbur are
put in abeyance as well. . . . The author [R. Shapiro] quotes this . . . considers the distinction to be self-
evident, as he casually reads it into the Shulhan Arukh. . . . In this he overstates his case, it seems to me . . .
the conclusion I drew from the language of the baraita that if reading is not involved there is no issue of kevod
tsibbur, although highly plausible, is not in itself proven. Conceivably, other factors might be involved.59
The crux of the claim is that the reader removes all issues of ''dignity,'' since, in the view of R. Henkin's
grandfather, the institution of the reader fundamentally changed the experience of Torah reading. Whereas
before there were seven readers, now there is one ''real'' reader, with seven symbolic blessing-reciters.
The argument rises and falls on whether we accept that view of the reader. R. Moshe Feinstein, in his Iggerot
Moshe, viewed the reader differently, a view R. Shapiro himself had cause to discuss in responding to an
online questioner, Moshe Kirstein.60 Kirstein noted that Iggerot Moshe 61 based a minor's inability to get an
aliyya on his inability toserve as or appoint a messenger, which assumes that the reader is a messenger for
the person being called. R. Shapiro could have responded that he held a different view of the reader, but he
did not; instead, he noted that women should be able to appoint messengers, implicitly arguing that nothing
in Iggerot Moshe's response ruled out his idea.
R. Shapiro is right that women can appoint messengers, but treating the reader as a messenger means that,
halakhically, the woman is reading, just through her stand-in;62 any lack of ''dignity'' her own reading would
have created is equally present when she is the authorizing agent of the reading. R. Shapiro can adopt a
minority position of the role of the reader, but he cannot expect that to lay the groundwork for a significant
halakhic innovation unless he proves it more fully than thus far.
CONCLUSION
For all its length and depth, R. Shapiro's argument in favor of women's aliyyot rests on two central
contentions, each with conspicuously weak textual support. First, he applies the concept of communal waiver
of ''dignity'' where it has not previously been accepted and which would be the first example of a permanent
waiver rather than a temporary concession to circumstance. Second, he adopts a reading of ''dignity'' that
allows him to argue that it no longer applies. R. Henkin accepted or anticipated R. Shapiro's basic reasoning
on these two most central questions (as well as on the issue of the reader), although he sharply limited the
practical conclusions he would allow.
Two Discussions Missing From R. Shapiro
Turning from what we think is inadequate in R. Shapiro's halakhic reasoning to what is importantly absent
from his presentation, we note that he did not fully analyze which portions of the reading women could
perform. While he was consistently careful to write only that women could read ''some'' portions, he clarifies
no further.63 His summary of the positions on that question, however, shows significant differences of
opinion. As he presents it, Or Zaru'a and R. David Pardo would allow women to read any or all of the portions
of the Torah reading, R. Isaiah de-Trani (Rid) would allow four or three aliyyot, R. Jacob Emden would only
allow women to read where no men are capable of doing so, and R. Meir ha-Kohen of Rothenburg (Hagahot
Maimoniyot) only allows their reading the seventh.
Later, he notes that Ran and Rivash were the source of Rema's claim that women could not be called up to
read all the portions of the Torah. Ran's comment is ambiguous (so that he might agree that they could take
any three aliyyot), but Rivash assumes that Ran agreed with him that women could only take the seventh or,
perhaps, the reading added on for the maftir.64 Further, when Hagahot Maimoniyot limits slaves to the
seventh portion, the comment closes by citing his teacher, the more famous R. Meir of Rothenburg.
I mention the names because the halakhic process operates with a hierarchy of authority and influence. All
other things being equal, Maharam of Rothenburg, Ran, and Rivash carry greater weight in a traditional
halakhic discussion than any of the others cited. Granting all of R. Shapiro's points thus still only supports the
conclusion that there was ''no halakhic impediment'' to calling women for the seventh section (and
sometimes the additional portion).
He could have noted that his analysis did not take up the important question of which portions women may
read, and left the issue for another venue. His neglecting to do so has allowed a situation where the services
that claim to follow his ideas call women up for any section they choose. Considering the enthusiasm with
which people have used his ideas to support women being called up to the Torah in what they deem an
Orthodox setting, more clarity on his part was vital, even if just to emphasize that he was not dealing with this
important question.
A second crucial issue not discussed sufficiently, especially once we recognize that the article has had
significant practical impact, is that of how and when halakha allows Jews to consciously and proactively
change their customs. While R. Shapiro correctly notes that customs change and offers a rubric for the kinds
of customs amenable to change, he does not offer a satisfactory theory of how that change occurs. As many
rely upon his article to institute change, he owed his readers a discussion of why it could be so.
As we bring our discussion to a close, we note that other defenses of women's aliyyot exist as well. R. Daniel
Sperber, for example, argued that the question of women's aliyyot puts two valid halakhic values—kevod ha-
tsibbur and kevod ha-beriyot (the dignity of people, in this case women)—into conflict.65 This is a different
type of claim, worthy of its own discussion, but beyond our present scope.
Here, we have striven to show only that the attempt to read the talmudic concerns about women's aliyyot out
of relevance to contemporary Orthodox Jews has not meaningfully succeeded. Discussing R. Shapiro's many
suggestions has enriched our understanding of several halakhic concepts and made clearer what would be
involved in bringing about acceptable halakhic change on this issue. We can only undertake to continue his
search for solutions and innovations that will help Orthodoxy bring all its adherents into a closer connection to
their Creator.
NOTES
I wish to thank Dr. Joel Wolowelsky for, among other things, his painstaking and repeated editing of this
article and Rabbis Yehuda Herzl Henkin and Aryeh Frimer for their helpful comments on an earlier version.
1. R. Mendel Shapiro, ''Qeri'at ha-Torah by Women: A Halakhic Analysis,'' The Edah Journal 1:2 (Sivan 5761
[2001]). This and all subsequently quoted articles from The Edah Journal can be found online at
www.edah.org (accessed December 2005).
2. Such as R. Dr. Daniel Sperber, ''Congregational Dignity and Human Dignity: Women and Public Torah
Reading,'' The Edah Journal 3:2 (Elul 5763 [2002]). Sperber's approach is notable for its portraying the issue
as one of conflict of halakhic values in which we must choose which of competing halakhic values to express
most fully in a particular situation.
3. See note 1. The response was titled ''Qeri'at ha-Torah by Women: Where We Stand Today.'' Both authors
also provided concluding comments. 4. Henkin, p. 6.
5. Megilla 23a. Rabbis Shapiro and Henkin analyze the possible distinctions between the reading of that
statement in the Tosefta and the Babylonian Talmud, but that discussion matters only if it affects the
decisions of the codifiers of Jewish law, which it does not, as we will see.
6. Note that R. Henkin agrees that such services could have women's aliyyot, but only because he sees such
services as having an implicit unanimous consent on the part of all attendees to waive the
community's ''dignity,'' an argument we take up below.
7. Encyclopedia Talmudit, vol. 26 (which had not been published when R. Shapiro wrote his article), s.v.
Kevod ha-Tsibbur (p. 555, note 21) cites Ri Algazi in Shalmei Tsibbur and Responsa Bet Yehuda, Orah
Hayyim (end of §55), who take for granted that ''dignity'' applies whenever there are ten men.
8. Hilkhot Tefilla 12:17.
9. Shapiro, p. 6.
10. Ibid., p. 40.
11. R. Henkin offered another reason for the difference in the dignity requirements in his Responsa, but the
discussion is not relevant to our discussion. Henkin, p. 3, referencing Benei Banim II:11.
12. Orah Hayyim 143:2.
13. See Responsa 162 and 294. The dignity issue here would seem to be using an invalid scroll for a
communal obligation, and that problem applies just as well out of the synagogue.
14. As does R. Yosef Karo, Yoreh De'ah 282:19, 283:1.
15. Shapiro, p. 40, citing Bah to Orah Hayyim 690, s.v. ha-Korei.
16. Henkin, p. 3.
17. § 241.
18.We noted earlier that R. Shapiro refers to ad hoc services, but others apply his ideas to regular meetings.
Here, a similar issue arises regarding whether Sefer ha-Batim meant private homes only, or any non-
synagogue venue. If the former, the status of services in a rented room (a storefront, e.g.) becomes unclear
even according to Sefer ha-Batim.
19. Shapiro, p. 39, citing Sefer ha-Batim, Bet Tefilla, Sha'arei Keri'at ha-Torah, 2:12.
20. R. David's citing it cannot be taken as indicating agreement, since the next line quotes Rabbenu Tam's
view (again without name or editorial comment) that women may not nowadays read the Torah because they
may not recite the blessings. That view is not relevant to our discussion, since Ashkenazic Jewish women
regularly recite blessings on acts of mitsva in which they are not specifically obligated, as R. Shapiro noted
earlier in his article. The citation itself, though, shows that R. David was collecting interesting opinions, even
contradictory ones, without any intent of expressing his view, leaving us with only anonymous support for it.
21. Shapiro, pp. 5-7. Seeing it as a communal obligation avoided the claim that women cannot read for men,
since women are not similarly obligated to the men. The issue of obligation will arise again below.
22. The teacher cited in Sefer ha-Batim may have assumed that reading the Torah was an individual
obligation; otherwise, his comment has the same weakness.
23. R. Henkin, too, assumed that any gathering of ten qualified as a congregation.
24. R. Shapiro's view of extra-synagogue readings interestingly vitiates a citation he presented as proving
that ''dignity'' can be waived. He quoted R. Ben Zion Abba Shaul's readiness to allow the matriarch of a family
to be called to the Torah at a private family service as support for the possibility of a community foregoing
its ''dignity'' (p. 26). However, R. Abba Shaul was actually contemplating a case in which all present have a
specific halakhic obligation to give honor, suggesting that he saw that obligation as turning her reading into
one that did not create a problem of ''dignity.'' His implicit assumption that this clearly ad hoc service would
have to worry about ''dignity''—since otherwise any woman there should have been able to get an aliyya—
implies a rejection of R. Shapiro's claim about ad hoc services and their standing as a community.
25. R. Shapiro mentions R. Jacob Alfandari, Shu''t Mutsal me-Esh 11, as appearing ''to resolve the issue in
favor of Beit Yosef, even in the case of qeri'at ha-Torah by women'' (p. 36). In an online response to R.
Shapiro, R. Ephraim Bezalel Halivni correctly noted that Alfandari does not resolve the issue in favor of Bet
Yosef, he simply wonders whether Bet Yosef would apply his assumption about foregoing ''dignity'' to other
circumstances, such as women's aliyyot.
R. Shapiro's claim in response that Alfandari closed his discussion with a dispositive source from Tur Orah
Hayyim 143 misreads the paragraph; Alfandari had raised numerous sources allowing waiving ''dignity,''
leading him to wonder how broadly the principle would apply. The final one of those sources was a statement
in Bet Yosef (not Tur) that R. Yeruham allowed a community to ignore its dignity in order to read from a partial
scroll. This was not a ''dispositive source''; it was a source that added to the question.
R. Shapiro also wrongly fails to record Alfandari's other question, whether foregoing ''dignity'' requires
unanimity or simple majority. Alfandari does not resolve that question, but R. Henkin, as we mentioned,
assumes that unanimity is required. That R. Shapiro does not address the issue despite its importance to
his claim and his clearly having seen this source is a significant lacuna.
The online exchange between Rabbis Halivni and Shapiro may be accessed at
www.edah.org/backend/coldfusion/Journal_resplist.cfm (accessed December 2005).
26. R. Henkin does not explain why attending a minyan in a private home more clearly states one's
agreement to ignore ''dignity'' than does attending a service prominently identified as one that dispenses
with ''dignity.''
27. Shapiro, p. 25. Rolling Torah scrolls might also be anomalous because the Jerusalem Talmud notes that
while the High Priest on Yom Kippur would roll the Torah from his first reading, Leviticus 16, to his second,
Leviticus 23, he would not roll to the third reading, Numbers 29. Instead, he would recite that last one by
heart, a difference the Jerusalem Talmud explains by saying that that reading is not inherent to the day.
The Babylonian Talmud does not justify the High Priest's actions. Ritva (Yoma 70a) cites and accepts the
reasoning of the Jerusalem Talmud, meaning that the relevance of the second reading allows ignoring
communal ''dignity.'' Without Ritva, we might have argued that the rolling was not a ''dignity'' issue at all, since
the High Priest could get to the second reading before the translator finished interpreting his first one.
This, in fact, is the implication of the earlier talmudic discussion of when one can skip from one section of the
Torah to another. 28. Peri Hadash, Orah Hayyim 53:6.
29. Halivni, in the online response referenced above (note 25), cogently argues that the only time one can
waive ''dignity'' is in order to confront a particular problem.
30. Benei Banim II:11.
31. R. Shapiro also mischaracterizes Magen Avraham as having held that ''kevod ha-tsibbur may in principle
be waived, but . . . doing so should be avoided, ab initio,'' citing Magen Avraham, Orah Hayyim 53:9 (p. 36).
That formulation sounds as if setting aside communal ''dignity'' is a less desired but plausible option, but
Magen Avraham was actually inferring from Shulhan Arukh's language that R. Yosef Karo (who, as we have
seen, often assumed that communities could waive their ''dignity'') prohibited actively sending forward a not-
yet-bearded cantor. For all his acceptance of waiving ''dignity,'' he did not allow direct action to do so.
That, in conjunction with Bah's general opposition to waiving communal ''dignity,'' led Magen Avraham to rule
unequivocally against such actions. Rather than ''accepting in principle but prohibiting ab initio,'' Magen
Avraham was noting that communal ''dignity'' prima facie implies an ability to ignore it, but the significant
opposition of Bah and Shulhan Arukh means that we may not actively set aside ''dignity.''
32. Shapiro, p. 26, from Tur Orah Hayyim 53. Bet Yosef and Bah's comments
each appear in paragraphs beginning with the word ve-Ein.
33. Ibid.
34. Ibid., p. 35.
35. Ibid.
36. Taz (R. David ha-Levi) does do so (Orah Hayyim 53:2) as R. Henkin
noted in Benei Banim.
37. Bah, Tur Orah Hayyim 53, emphasis added.
38. Shapiro, p. 25.
39. Ibid., p. 26.
40. Ibid.
41. Ibid., p. 21.
42. Ibid., p. 26.
43. Ibid., p. 36.
44. Incidentally, R. Pardo's contemplation of a woman presenting herself for an aliyya suggests that he too
was living in a time and social circumstance where the instinctive aversion to women's reading had been lost
(since the woman stepped forward without arousing the vigorous protest of the assemblage), and yet he
assumed the relevance of the concept of ''dignity,'' meaning that he too saw ''dignity'' as a halakhic construct,
not a social one.
45. Henkin, pp. 3-4.
46. Ritva makes his comment in Megilla 4a, s.v. she-af.
47. Shapiro, p. 25.
48. Henkin, p. 5.
49. Arguing that the Rabbis tended to make universal rules would mean that their ruling should continue to
apply even if the implication is no longer there, so it would not help us.
50. Shapiro, p. 34.
51. See Rashi, Sukka 38a, s.v. me'era.
52. Benei Banim II:11, 45-7.
53. Focusing on the issue of communal membership also shows why R. Shapiro might have erred in
assuming that Hagahot Maimoniyot allowed women to read the seventh portion. Hagahot Maimoniyot only
mentions a slave, but R. Shapiro assumes that was just the example. In fact, though, a slave could be freed
and instantly become a full member of the community, as in Berakhot 47b, whereas a woman could not.
54. Both R. Henkin and R. Aryeh Frimer, responding to an earlier version of this article, noted that Ritva
(Megilla 4a, s.v. she-af) also excludes women from reading the Megilla for reasons of ''dignity'' and says that
this is included in me'era, despite their being obligated in that mitsva. I have therefore chosen the locution in
the text that their not generally being members of the public community means that they have a different
status even within those public mitsvot where they are obligated.
55. Even though Torah reading is a communal rather than an individual obligation, only men bear the
obligation to ensure the communal fulfillment of its responsibilities.
56. Shapiro, p. 2 and in his response to R. Henkin's comments.
57. The choice of men to uphold the public side of life is too complicated to discuss fully here. A start is to
recognize that women, historically and currently, often had pressing responsibilities that precluded their
being obligated to participate in the public community. In the Torah's two-parent model, men were available
to leave the house when necessary and women covered the home.
That setup has many roots, sociological, biological, and practical. For most of human history, men supported
the family, while women took care of the home, bore the children, and raised them. Even today, many women
feel the pull of a version of motherhood that would contradict taking on significant extra-household
responsibilities.
My reasoning here, incidentally, echoes that of Rabbi Saul Berman in ''The Status of Women in Halakhic
Judaism,'' Tradition 14:2 (Summer 1973), pp. 5-28.
58. Seeing me'era as rooted in women's not being members of the public community explains why their
exclusion from aliyyot is not subject to changing social mores, but does not explain why Judaism would
exclude them from such an important religious experience. The answer, that being called up to an aliyya is a
relatively insignificant Jewish experience, may not immediately convince readers who inhabit a society that
inordinately emphasizes Shabbat morning services.
That this emphasis misrepresents the world of Hazal jumps out from the most casual reading of the Talmud,
where the Rabbis registered no objection to people living in small villages without regular public worship.
They instead simply helped such people fulfill their communal obligations, even carving out extra days for
them to read the Megilla around Purim time. A lack of communal worship takes away some positive aspects
of Jewish life, but not the ability to relate fully to one's Creator. Excluding women from Torah reading says
nothing about their opportunities to create a fully productive relationship with God; it just closes off one of an
infinite number of avenues.
59. Henkin, p. 4.
60. Response to Moshe Kirstein (7/19/2002), www.edah.org/backend/coldfusion/Journal_resp.cfm?id=31
(accessed December 2005).
61. Iggerot Moshe, Orah Hayyim 2:72.
62. As Iggerot Moshe explicitly notes regarding children. Public perception of the reader also supports this
view. It is because we see the person called up to the Torah as the ''real'' reader that people congratulate him
when he returns to his seat, why he is given the right to have prayers of blessing recited for him, and why
people are so interested in getting called up.
63. Shapiro, p. 2.
64. R. Shapiro cites Rivash § 326 as proof that they could only take that additional reading. In responsum 35,
though, Rivash seems to limit a woman or child to the seventh section, which he deduces from the Talmud's
referring to ''even a woman, even a child,'' rather than ''even women and children.'' In both places, Rivash is
clear that the person in question could not read the additional portion if it was inherently connected to the
order of the day (such as on a holiday), an important halakhic position R. Shapiro leaves out of the article.
Rivash assumes that Ran agrees with him by noting ''and so wrote Ran on the Halakhot.'' It is not clear,
though, that Ran meant what Rivash claims.
65. See note 2.
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