My mother, z”l, died almost forty years ago; my father, z”l, four years ago. Although, figuratively, there has been a tenfold improvement between then and now in the status of women saying Kaddish, we still have a long way to go
Forty years ago, even in the Modern Orthodox community in which I lived at the time, it was practically unheard of for women to say Kaddish. During the shivah for my mother, I had asked to say Kaddish. “Why? You have a brother to say it,” was the answer I received. After the shivah, no shul would allow me to say Kaddish either. Again, I had a brother to say it, so we were “covered.” At the same time as my shivah, a good friend, who was an only child, was also sitting shivah for a parent. She, too, wanted to say Kaddish but was denied the chance. Her husband had to ask permission from his parents, who were still alive, to say Kaddish for his father-in-law. Meanwhile, I sat quietly while my brother said Kaddish; I was unable to do anything during shivah, shloshim, or at all during the year—nor was I able to mark my mother’s yahrzeit in any way but lighting a solitary candle in her memory.
Document the shul’s position on women saying Kaddish, and have the rabbi, gabbai, and/or shul president publicly reiterate this position periodically.
I don’t recall exactly when I came out of my shell and started reciting Kaddish in shul. It was probably during the early 2000s; my son had gone off to college, and I was free to start going to a shul that was more amenable to women saying Kaddish. In fact, I found two: One just accepted my reciting Kaddish as any man would do; in the other, the rabbi noted that I was saying Kaddish for my mother (or my mother’s parents, who outlived her, so I made it a point to say Kaddish for them as well) and exhorted other members of the shul—both men and women—to try to do so for their family members as well. However, this was also the shul where the rabbi had to forcibly remove a man from the (small) ezrat nashim so that I could daven in peace. We still had a long way to go.
Fast-forward to 2019, when my father passed away at age 95. I was now living in a community in which I really felt at home, where women had more visibility and more opportunities to participate in services, from occasional women’s Shabbat minḥah services to women’s Torah readings on Simhat Torah and for all five megillot. When I was sitting shivah for my dad, even though I was sitting alone (my only sibling now lives in Israel), there was no question that there would be a minyan at my house for the entire shivah period—where I would be joined by a few other women—and that I would be able to say Kaddish for the entire year. During the shivah, I kept the 2011 Jofa book, A Daughter’s Recitation of Mourner’s Kaddish, in a prominent place on my coffee table as a reference for anyone who had a question, and several visitors did take a look. But the most eye-opening moment during shivah came from a visit by Rabbi Adam Starr, mara d’atra of Congregation Ohr HaTorah in Atlanta, who was surprised to learn that back in the 1980s it was not common for women to recite Kaddish at all. In a way, his reaction was an affirmation that we have indeed come a long way.
Following this visit, Rabbi Starr wrote on his Facebook page:
I just returned from a shivah minyan for a woman from our shul who is sitting shivah for her father. We have made minyanim at her home morning and evening so that she could say Kaddish throughout shivah. Joining her at the minyan were two other women also saying Kaddish, one who is reciting Kaddish for the 11 months following her father’s passing, and the other was my mother, who is marking the yahrzeit for my beloved grandfather. The women in my community have organized that there will always be another woman at the minyan to support this woman saying Kaddish.
While I was being menaḥem avel, the woman sitting shivah shared with me that she lost her mother in 1983 and was forbidden from saying Kaddish. She was not allowed to say Kaddish at the levayah, nor during shivah, even along with male relatives, nor during the 11 months at any of the shuls … where she lived.
It is hard to argue that things do not evolve in Orthodoxy when contrasting the two shivahs 35 years apart. We obviously do not change halakhah; at the same time, we must recognize that just because something may be new and different does not make it forbidden. This is clearly seen as it relates to women saying Kaddish in the Modern Orthodox world, which is pretty much a given now and very much mainstream. In fact, as is the case with women saying Kaddish, it is not only not forbidden—it actually reflects a deep and profound expression for religious connection and devotion. … Women saying Kaddish are a great example of something that is now widely practiced that once had strong voices against. Often, time is the greatest determinant as to what will ultimately become the norm in terms of acceptability.
We’re Not There Yet, Though
Problem solved, right? Not quite. For one thing, as many readers will attest, not every shul is as welcoming to women saying Kaddish as mine is. Furthermore, even shuls that say that women are “allowed” to say Kaddish often place restrictions on the practice, such as making women recite Kaddish quietly—thereby making it impossible to have anyone say “amen” to their Kaddish recitation—or skipping Kaddish altogether if there is no man saying Kaddish, as a friend said happened to her on occasion.
I went to Israel for a week to observe the shloshim for my father. Before I went, I asked women who lived near where I would be staying if there were women-friendly minyanim in the neighborhood. I received several recommendations, only to find that in these shuls I was waved into a side room— once, into a kitchen—where I was essentially ignored. Although no one tried to stop me, these were not pleasant experiences. My most comforting time came at a minyan on my brother’s front porch, where I joined in Kaddish with his next-door neighbor, who said she also liked this safe space. But several women in Israel, as well as many in the United States, told me that they had difficulty finding a shul that was welcoming in every way.
Judging from my own experiences, as well as those of other women, I have come to appreciate that the shul I currently attend is a prime example of how to treat women properly— but even here, we still have a way to go. A friend whose period of Kaddish overlapped with mine appreciated “men lowering their voices during Kaddish so I could be heard; men standing near community outsiders to make sure they respected my Kaddish. The sense of community—having women with me and the men looking out for me.” Nevertheless, she also observed some negatives: “Being shouted over so no one could hear me and say the requisite responses; non-community members saying Kaddish at a pace that no one, male or female, could keep up with. Men walking out when I said Kaddish.” Yes, that happened even in our progressive shul.
Shuls Can Do Better
During my Kaddish period, there were sometimes five or six women in shul saying Kaddish with only one or two men, or sometimes no men saying Kaddish at all. Although the women were able to say Kaddish on their own, this continued to bother some men. The women in the “Kaddish club” listed our concerns and proposed a number of recommendations to make our experience easier. To the credit of Rabbi Starr, most of these recommendations were accepted and have now become part of shul policy.
Other shuls can do the same. The box next to this article shows a number of ways in which Modern Orthodox shuls can help women get through this very difficult period in their lives. (My thanks to all the women who contributed ideas to this list.)
How Shuls Can Be More Receptive to Women Mourners
The following are ways in which a shul can help women—and all mourners—with their Kaddish experience:
• Document the shul’s position on women saying Kaddish, and have the rabbi, gabbai, and/or shul president publicly reiterate this position periodically
• Put up a sign at the entrance to the women’s section stating that this space is for women only, and that men are not permitted to daven there, even when no women are present.
• Set up a process by which women can sign up to accompany women at minyanim during their shivah and shloshim periods so they will not be alone. In my shul, we generally do this with a Google doc in which women can sign up for various days.
• Produce a “cheat sheet” that lists the points in the various services at which Kaddish is said, and on what pages in the siddur (if the shul uses one particular siddur) the Kaddish can be found, so women won’t be fumbling to find the place when Kaddish starts. One mourner, Terry Cohen, started this in our shul; the card is available to both female and male mourners, as many men aren’t accustomed to all the ins and outs of daily davening either.
• If the shul has an email or WhatsApp group for minyan schedules and other matters relating to minyanim, include women in this group. Women often want to attend a daily minyan for reasons other than saying Kaddish.
• If there are no men saying Kaddish on a given day, do not skip over this spot in the tefillah; allow women to say it alone. Some shuls have a man say Kaddish in these cases, whether there are women saying it or not. The acceptable practice should be decided by the mara d’atra of the shul.
• Do not allow men to either drown out women’s voices or rush through Kaddish so quickly that women (and other daveners) cannot keep up. If a man persists in such actions, the rabbi or gabbai should reiterate the shul’s position to him.
• Get day schools involved, allowing mourners to serve as role models for the students. Dr. Chanie Steinberg often davens at her children’s school and noted, “I was davening on Yom Hashoah with seventh and eighth graders and the rabbi asked if I wanted to say Kaddish. I did [it] myself and it was very respectful—which was a good teaching point for the kids.”
We must all strive to eliminate as many roadblocks as possible and make the Kaddish experience more enlightening and comforting to all mourners, not just women.
Another woman I interviewed summed up her Kaddish experience by saying that it was “enlightening, challenging, and comforting. Enlightening in that I came to understand firsthand the obligation of aveilut. Challenging in going to minyan multiple times a day, staying motivated, and dealing with the gender issues— e.g., my car counted more than I did: One morning I walked in and the men groaned, ‘We saw your car and it meant we had ten, but then you walked in and we still have nine.’ Comforting in that I had others who were going through the same experience and we understood and could commiserate together.”
We must all strive to eliminate as many roadblocks as possible and make the Kaddish experience more enlightening and comforting to all mourners, not just women.