The Power of "Why Not?"

As a teenager, I thought I knew everything. Like most people at that age, I believed I had life figured out—fashion, politics, music, religion; you name it, I had my opinions, and I was pretty confident in them.

When my senior year of high school rolled around, I decided to follow in the footsteps of many of my friends and defer my army service for a year to attend a mechina, a pre-army leadership academy. During the open house of the mechina I chose, they emphasized that the year would be about developing a unique identity and forming a worldview based on exposure to different spheres of life.

But I was 17, almost 18, and thought I had a solid idea of who I was and what I believed. I decided to go for the experience, to have a good time, meet new people (and perhaps the one?) and maybe learn about subjects my school hadn’t covered.

I grew up in an Orthodox household (what we call religious Zionist) in central Israel, and being religious was a significant part of my identity. Naturally, I chose to attend a religious, mixed gender mechina – special independent study prior to army service.

But then October 7th happened—a war that upended everything. All of my expectations were suddenly thrown into disarray. After spending a few traumatic weeks at home, we finally returned to the mechina, restarting our year of studies with an entirely changed curriculum.

Because our mechina was located in the south, we were forced to relocate. Some of the male students enlisted early, while the rest of us volunteered in agriculture, assisted evacuees, and helped wherever we could. Instead of learning leadership vis-a-vis the books and tours that were featured in the promotional brochure, we experienced leadership through action.

As the year progressed, we began tackling other controversial issues in Israel, not just those related to the war. One meeting in particular stands out in my memory as a turning point. Tammy Gottlieb, a representative of Women of the Wall, visited with us and shared her life journey as a Conservative Jew in Israel, including what it was like to be the only girl in her class to read from the Torah and don tefillin at her Bat Mitzvah.

Tammy’s discussion about Women of the Wall’s demand for equality, and her assertion that “feminism” and “religion” need not be strangers, opened a door that I never knew existed. I was curious to explore this new perspective.

The following Friday, as our group prepared to spend Shabbat together and we were cleaning up and setting the table, one of my friends placed the Kiddush cup near our male counselor, as was customary every week. But this week was different. This week I asked to have the honor of sanctifying the wine on behalf of the group.

“Why would you?” my friend asked. 
“Why not?” I responded.

Since no one could give me a legitimate argument as to why I couldn’t do so as a woman, I did. I sanctified the wine for the group. I must admit, I was shaking at first, and some of my friends did not seem happy with the situation, but I couldn’t back out then, nor did I want to.

When I recited the Kiddush, I used the melody I knew from home, the one my father used every Friday night.

While singing “Veshabat kodshecha beahavah uvratzon hinchaltanu,” , “and in love and favor hast given us thy holy Sabbath as an inheritance,” I couldn’t help but think about my father. What would he think if he were here now? Would he approve of this act of mine? Would he have joined me in singing or crossed his hands in protest like a few of my group members?  

I entered this year eager to learn but convinced that I already knew who and what I was. However, asking “why not” and challenging accepted preconceptions has made me a stronger woman and a better Jew.

Note: Tammy Gottlieb, who sowed the seed of feminism in Gili’s mind is the Vice-Chair of Women of the Wall. Tammy is originally from Rehovot. She was raised and educated in a Conservative home. Tammy served as a board member at Adath Shalom Emanual Conservative Synagogue in Rehovot.