She came to visit, adjusted the Venetian blinds and told me to put a sweater on my infant. She was the wife of the founder of the congregation, fifty or sixty years earlier, I do not recall exactly when. But by the time we crossed paths she was elderly, old to my 28 years. She considered Erv and me, young, wet behind the ears, “know-nothing” children. She started from scratch with her instructions. We lived on the first floor, strangers passed our door (and windows) constantly, old lady Shapiro was sure they were all concerned with how I lived my life.
So, she tilted the blinds and insisted that I hide my baby from prying eyes with an oversized sweater. I who had never worried about prying eyes, was given my first lesson regarding the behavior of the rebbitzan, the rabbi’s wife. As the years progressed and Erv graduated from the small congregation in Winston-Salem, North Carolina to the larger one in Scranton, Pennsylvania, I was given another lesson concerning my behavior.
This time I was walking in the downtown area of the city, weighed down with shopping bags when I met a member of the congregation. “Oops, you better hide that bag from the Globe Store and bring The Scranton Dry Goods bag in front of it. The Scranton Dry Goods is owned by a member of the congregation, it is the right place to shop; the Globe is not one of ours.
So I was taught to shop with the congregation. As the years evolved, I became comfortable in the skin of the rebbitzan and less controlled by the rules of the Sisterhood. The Sisterhood was and probably still is, the female arm of the synagogue. I knew the appropriate way to dress for the synagogue, my mother taught me that. She said nothing about a hat. I was vain about my pretty hair and never wanted to crush it down with a hat. In winter and summer, I was hatless. When it came time to go to temple, I asked my learned spouse a question: Is it mandated anywhere in Halacha that we women wear hats? He told me that there was no ruling. So I never wore a hat again after that first year.
Many years later, Erv had the responsibility to substitute for a rabbi on sabbatical for three months. When the rabbi and his spouse returned they found a change had taken place. In astonishment, the rabbi’s wife said, “Look none of the women are wearing hats, that is terrible! How did that happen?” The answer came back swiftly “Ag Herman does not wear one and her husband represents the UAHC! So, we don’t have to wear a hat either!” And so it came about that the women of Westchester Reform Temple stopped wearing hats to Services. Not a show of disrespect, simply a matter of choice. And that, I believe, is what Reform Judaism is about.
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