This month marks the second anniversary of Yavneh, a partnership-style minyan that meets once a month on New York’s Upper East Side. Our stated purpose is to create a “Makom Tefilla,” a place of worship where all people, at all levels of observance, can come and explore their relationship with God, prayer, and their community. Yavneh’s spiritual and inclusive services operate within the framework of halakha, including a minyan of ten men and a mehitza. I am the gabba’it.
My role as gabba’it is a very practical one. I call up those who have aliyot, asking for both their fathers’ and mothers’ names. I follow along closely with the Torah readers and assist them when necessary. Along with the minyan’s rabbi, David Kalb, and the gabbai, I lead participants in communal prayers, or Mi Sheberakhs, recited aloud in support of the Israeli soldiers, American soldiers, the persecuted, and the ill. I work to ensure that the minyan functions smoothly. When there are gaps in participation in the service, I help fill them by reading part of the Torah portion or davening.
Clearly, my role goes beyond the practical and is, for many, symbolic of a more participatory tefilla. Along with the other woman leaders, daveners, and Torah readers, I am the face of change. For many, mine is the most consistent face of this change. People often comment on my knowledge of the intricacies of running the service, which many have no cause to know other than through repeated exposure. I liken it to the experience of driving versus being driven. You can be driven somewhere a thousand times, but until you are forced to drive there yourself, you do not really know the directions. Many, on both sides of the mehitza, if left on their own, would have no idea when to sit or stand or what to say when. For women who are gaining access to new kibbudim, or honors, within the service, the disadvantage is more significant, because their exposure until then has been more limited and from a greater distance. They take comfort in my knowledge and see it as a step forward. It allows them to take the minyan and me seriously and goes a long way toward creating the inclusive Makom Tefilla for which we strive.
Fulfilling my role as gabba’it is a source of great pride to me, but is not without its pitfalls. Ensuring a smoothly run service requires my attendance from the beginning of the service. However, because it is often a challenge to get a quorum of ten men together in time for our 9 a.m. start time, my husband’s prompt arrival is also a priority. Getting us both out the door, along with our three young children – ages seven, four, and two – on time and on speaking terms has not gotten any easier over the last two years. Sometimes we have to choose whose early attendance is more important. His often wins.
That being said, great satisfaction comes from knowing that, for my children, the normative roles of men and women in the synagogue are not the same as the ones with which I grew up. Having my son or daughter next to me as I fulfill my role as gabba’it makes all the effort to get them there worthwhile. In essence, it is for them that I do it. At the same time, I do it for myself and for all the others who seek a meaningful prayer experience at the minyan. I have never been one to find a deep, spiritual connection with the synagogue or with tefilla. Years of distance, barrier, and separation have kept me from it. However, in our Makom Tefilla, where my presence is counted and counted on, I come closer than ever before.