One of humanity’s first errors was to hide from the all knowing God among the trees of Eden (Genesis 3:8). So it is paradoxical, perhaps, that even in private prayer we cover ourselves to encounter God. This covering cannot be an attempt to hide anything. It cannot serve the function of interpersonal modesty or cultural expression. Regardless of what we wear, we are known and visible to our Maker, who probes the heart and searches the mind (Jeremiah 17:10). Our clothing must, instead, serve to signify something about our relationship to God, and to our bodies, in the context of prayer. The way we dress or cover ourselves for private prayer can provide a window into the possibilities of our self-image, not as subjects of the sexual or social gaze, but as creations and servants of God.
In the public eye, our clothing might express our status or our gender. It might honor or break with societal norms. It might serve as a decoration, or as a cultural marker, or as protection from the elements. As religious women, our clothing choices may be governed by laws that assume that our nakedness is sexual, distracting men from their prayers and threatening the boundaries of our marriages. Or we may dress in order to express our religious identity and affiliation. We may dress with an awareness of societal perceptions of our bodies as sexual objects, or as barometers of health, in need of perfection and maintenance. When we pray publicly, our understanding of the ways in which we are perceived may enter into our choices of dress for worship.
Our halakhic standards of dress for prayer depend on the particular prayer we are reciting, whether we have male or female bodies, and whether we pray publicly or privately. 1 As we examine the different requirements of dress for the various prayers, we may discover some basic distinctions among the berakhot, the Shema, and the Amidah. Similarly, as we look at the different ways in which men and women are obligated to dress for prayer, we can explore the separate roles of male and female bodies in the context of prayer. An understanding of the different requirements of dress in public and private prayer may illuminate the ways in which our social understanding of one another affects our communal and individual relationship with God.
We find the most minimal clothing requirements in the context of blessings. Reciting a berakha, a woman may simply sit in such a way that her genitals are naturally covered by her posture. 2 The Mishnah teaches, “The woman sits and separates her bread while naked because she can cover herself, but a man may not” (Hallah 2:3). We learn from this that a woman can make a berakha while naked, unlike a man, whose requirements of dress for blessings are stricter. Minimally, for berakhot, a man must cover his genitals with some kind of cloth and, according to most opinions, must do so in a way that creates a visual barrier between them and his heart (Shulhan Arukh: Orah Hayyim 74:1). The Rema points out that, although the practical result for men and women is different, the principle is the same. Women are simply built in such a way that their genitals, because they are more internal, are more separate from their hearts. According to the Rema, the difference in law is not based on an essential difference between the inner nature of men and women, but is rooted only in the architecture of their bodies (Rema, Orah Hayyim 74:4).
But the difference is still striking. In the presence of a man, if a woman reveals even a few inches of her body, where her custom is to cover it, he may not recite the Shema (Shulhan Arukh: Orah Hayyim 75:1). Yet in private, the need for covering is defined – not by the male gaze or even the interpersonal gaze – but by her own self-understanding. The Rashba explains that although the thigh of a woman can be considered “ervah” (nakedness) this is “specifically for others and for men, because they would be aroused, but not for herself, since it is written: a woman sits and separates her dough naked” (Hiddushei HaRashba: Berakhot 24a). In private, a woman is her own interpreter.
For both women and men, these minimal clothing requirements allow us to bring an awareness of the divine presence even to our most intimate moments: separating our dough, waking up in the morning, drinking a glass of water, immersing in the mikveh. The Rambam teaches us that these blessings were composed to allow us to “remember the Creator always” (Laws of Berakhot: Chapter I). They allow us to welcome an awareness of God into the familiar, everyday rhythms of our lives. As we bless God for the good and the bad (Mishnah Berakhot 9:5), we accept and celebrate that God has formed the world just as it is, and has made us and our bodies just as we are. We relate to the God who knows us completely, and the relationship is one of closeness and connectedness.
The standards of dress for the private recitation of the Shema, during which we accept the yoke of the heavenly kingdom (Mishnah Berakhot 2:2), are similar. A woman dresses as she would for berakhot (Shulhan Arukh: OrahHayyim 74:4). As with blessings, the requirements for men are stricter. A man must cover his thighs and the area below them, in addition to separating between his genital area and his heart (Shulhan Arukh: Orah Hayyim 74:6). Although these guidelines are more stringent than those for berakhot, dress for the recitation of Shema is certainly not formal. In our private recitation of the Shema we accept the majesty of God within the context of our everyday existence: while at home and while traveling, upon sleeping and upon waking (Devarim 6:7).
The private Amidah finds us standing in a different relationship. The Talmud teaches us that, while reciting the Amidah, men and women must cover the area of their hearts (Berakhot 24b–25a; Shulhan Arukh: Orah Hayyim 74:6). Rashi explains that, when reciting the Amidah, a person “must see himself as though he is standing before the king and stand with respect, but for the reading of the Shema – he is not speaking before the king.” Rashi teaches us that the ways in which we are covered reflect separate dimensions of the encounter between a Jew and God. This additional covering for the Amidah allows us to relate to God as a subject granted an audience with the King.
The Tur teaches us that it is proper to have fine clothing set aside for prayers that include the Amidah,“like the clothing of the priests, but not everyone is able to spend lavishly on this” (Tur, Orah Hayyim 98). In the absence of the Temple we encounter a majestic God by dressing in special clothes, to the extent that we are able to, in order to become like priests. We reach beyond our everyday existence; we struggle with our ordinary selves, with God, and the world we know. We reach toward repentance. We hope. We pray for redemption, for the sick to be healed, for peace to come.
When we recite these same prayers, – the berakhot, the Shema, and the Amidah – in the context of community, however, our experience includes not only our relationship with God and our own self-perception but also our relationship with each other. We dress more modestly (Shulhan Arukh: Orah Hayyim 75). If we lead public prayers, we are required to dress in a way that our community considers respectable (Shulhan Arukh: Orah Hayyim 53). Social concepts of what is proper and dignified become part of our prayer experience.
Public prayer places our relationship with God in the context of our responsibilities to one another. Like any other communal responsibilities, they do not always serve each of us well or take all of us into account. Mehitzot, such as balconies or one-way glass, can imply that women distract men while men do not distract women, alienating men and women who don’t fit this generalization. A uniform standard of dress may exclude those whose culture, gender identity, or economic class differs from that of the majority. As we set standards of dress for public prayer, we must be aware of their impact on the ability of each human being to relate to God. In community, we are capable of enabling each other to pray, of encouraging each other to maintain both a private and a public relationship to our Creator.
Each day can bring a Jew multiple ways of relating to God, individually or communally. We choose clothing that helps us enact and reflect these varied relationships. Our God is intimate and familiar, and knows us completely, and yet this same God is majestic and unknowable. That shifting dynamic reflects, perhaps, the texture of any enduring relationship. Our perspective changes, we struggle, we become close, we are awed. In the words of the Yom Kippur liturgy,
We are Your lover, and You are our Beloved:
We are Your treasure and You are our God:
We are Your nation and You are our King:
We are Your designated and You are our Designated.