| Normally I look forward to my trips to Israel with much anticipation and excitement. Even following the horrific attack of October 7, and with an ongoing war, I was still looking forward to being with my people.
But three weeks ago, I got a call from my aunt that my father, who lives in Arad, Israel, had passed away. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that I had to travel there to bury my father. I was able to get on the flight just a few hours after I received the news of my father’s passing.
I packed in great haste (which only proved that I don’t need hours in order to get my luggage ready), just as had the Israelites when they rushed away from Egypt. The reason I was in such a hurry was that I was conforming to the Jewish custom of burying the dead within twenty-four hours. Although some exceptions can be made, I wanted to make sure I arrived on time. Additionally, being the only daughter and the only close relative who speaks Hebrew, it fell on me to make the funeral arrangements.
As I was driving from Ben Gurion Airport to Arad, I called the cemetery. In Israel, there are no funeral homes. All the arrangements are handled by the cemeteries Hevra Kaddisha (a burial society). Hevra Kaddisha in Israel is a group of orthodox or ultra orthodox men. They usually have a say in the way the burials are conducted.
The last time I was in Arad, I witnessed a burial of a haredi man whose wife was not even allowed to approach the grave. In fact, all the women were kept at a distance and only the men participated in shoveling the earth and saying Kaddish. In addition, the burials I have attended in Israel in the past, were quick, with one of the Hevra Kaddisha members speedily reciting the psalms and Kaddish.
Needless to say, after conducting multiple funerals throughout my career, I wanted to have a meaningful service for my father. I was hopeful that I would be allowed to determine what my dad’s burial service was going to look like.
Initially, my conversation with Yisrael, a member of Hevra Kaddisha in Arad, was irritating. He acted in a very businesslike manner. He asked my dad’s name, the date of his passing, his passport number, as well as other details in a very matter of fact voice. I stopped him and said: “Yisrael, I just flew in from United States to bury my dad. I am not calling you regarding some mundane matter. I would expect you to at least offer your condolences before you proceed with requesting the information.” I also shared with him that I am a rabbi in a Reform synagogue, and when I get a call from a member about the death of a loved one, first thing I say is HaMakom yenahem etkhem btokh sha’ar avelei tziyon virushalayim.’ This means “May the Omnipresent comfort you among the rest of the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem”. In other words – I am sorry for your loss.”
There was a brief pause on the other line and then Yisrael started apologizing and repeating over and over “Ha Makom yenahem…” I seized an opportunity and asked if I can conduct the funeral myself.
To my surprise, Yisrael agreed without hesitation. He asked how he – and the rest of the Hevra Kaddisha – could be helpful. And indeed they were! They assisted with everything from collecting my father’s body from the hospital to making sure we had a desirable plot as well as choosing a time that was convenient for the family while also offering the use of the air-conditioned hall at the cemetery for the service (it was about 90 degrees Fahrenheit that day). Yisrael and the rest of the “team” went above and beyond to make sure that everything went as smoothly as possible.
As I was leading the service, I could see them standing in the doorway, listening. This surprised me. After all I knew it is prohibited for haredi Jews to hear “kol isha” – a woman’s voice, meaning the voice of a woman other than man’s wife or his daughter.
After we buried my father, Yisrael again extended his condolences. I asked him if he ever saw a woman leading prayers, or in this case, conducting a burial. He admitted that this was his first time and that he only heard of it being done in the United States.
I told him that I was truly grateful that he was sensitive to my wishes. And in fact, this was a teaching experience for both of us.
This Shabbat, as we continue to celebrate Passover and recall how the Jews were delivered from bondage, we read from Exodus 15:20-21: “Miriam, the prophetess, Aaron’s sister, took a timbrel in her hand, and all the women came out after her with timbrels and with dances. And Miriam called out to them, Sing to the Lord, for very exalted is He…”
Rashi comments, that Miriam prophesied even before Moses’ birth.
While the Torah certainly attributes a great deal of the success of the exodus from Egypt to Moses, it undeniably emphasizes the importance of Miriam’s role.
Hence, even during the Toraitic times, when women were not considered equal to men, the Torah stressed the importance of Miriam’s actions. If it were not for the bravery of her saving her brother, there would be no “Yetziat Mitzrayim” – no Exodus from Egypt.
Unfortunately, in haredi circles here and in Israel, women are viewed as the household keepers, whose role it is to give birth, raise the children, oversee the household and serve the needs of her husband.
This is one of the many things that secular, or less observant, Israelis find problematic with the attitude of the haredi Jews. In my opinion, the denial of women playing an equal role in society is an indication of the weakness of men rather than their strength.
I wish that the respect that Yisrael showed me during my time of grief could be the beginning of “tikkun” repairing of that societal structure.
On every Passover we say that we celebrate not only the Israelites who escaped from slavery, but each person’s path to freedom.
This year, as always, I placed an orange on the seder plate as a symbol of inclusion of women in Jewish history and the fact that a woman can be a rabbi.
I know that this is a stretch, but my hope is that one day Jews of all denominations will celebrate women’s strength and extraordinary contributions to society. And who knows, maybe one day I will get to lead a seder along with a rabbi from Crown Heights or Meah Shearim.
A Zisen Pesah!
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Rabbi Cantor Inna Serebro-Litvak (AJR ’16) was born in St. Petersburg, Russia. She made aliyah to Israel with her entire family. There, she pursued her undergraduate studies at the Music Academy of Tel Aviv University. After graduating, she moved to the United States and enrolled at JTS Miller Cantorial School. Rabbi Inna served as the cantor at Temple B’nai Or in Morristown, NJ and Temple Beth Am in Parsippany, NJ. While serving as the cantor at Temple Beth Am, she enrolled and completed her Rabbinic Ordination and Master’s Degree in Jewish Studies at AJR. Rabbi Inna is currently serving as the senior rabbi at Temple Shalom in Succasunna, NJ. Inna has a blog on The Times of Israel. You can read her articles (two of them were selected as Featured Post): https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/author/inna-serebro-litvak/
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