Hoshanot 2015

I guess writing about Hoshanot is becoming a tradition for me as I did it in 2013 as well as in 2012 in a post that led to my article on JOFA's site and all the way back in 2005 in this article to name a few. You can search the blog if you really want, but by now you will have gotten the point.

Well, this year I had two similar but distinctly different Hoshanot experiences. The first was in our regular shul. Remembering anxiety in past years about how this might go, I emailed the rabbi ahead of time and asked that it be made very clear exactly where women would be and how to participate during the Hoshanot service. I also asked what I could do to help make sure this happened. Our rabbi assured me all would go well, that he would make sure there was a circle for men as well as one for woman, and said what I could do was recruit (which I did a little).

I was grateful to see that an email appeared in the bulletin inviting both women and men to participate in Hoshanot and encouraged both to bring lulav and etrog.



The space we used this year -- our building still isn't completed yet -- was packed on the men's side. There was a bit more room for women. I was prepared to move quickly to the open space at the front of the women's section and make sure other women did too when it came time to do so. Then the rabbi announced what to do though, and with all of his good intentions, he forgot to check his grammar.

"Alright, everyone, we will have two concentric circles on the men's side for Hoshanot," he said.

People were moving fast, so I rushed over to him.

"Everyone?" I asked. "I thought you wanted women to be on the women's side."

"There's room on the women's said," he answered. "Women will be on the women's side. The men will be in concentric circles on the men's side."

Huh. Everyone.

I do love our rabbi and consider him a friend as well as an authority. He must have been tired when he made that gaff, but it's an unfortunate one. To make it up to me, I suppose, he asked I lead the progression on the women's side.

OK, I thought. I've led Hoshanot lots of times before. I wouldn't even have to say the words, just lead the line of women with their arba minim.

So I did it. I was grateful he asked my help. I was grateful that many women -- maybe 10-20  of the about 80 women there did. (This is a very rough estimate as it's hard to count steps while holding lulav, etrog, machzor, trying not to trip and faking comfort with the situation.) But with all those women who didn't participate, all my other baggage came up. Why weren't they joining in? Is this just not their thing? Did they need courage to do it? Were they judging me? Was I losing opportunities for potential friendships by forcing an issue?

Sure, I probably overthought it. Regardless, my heart was pounding as I stood tall and tried to look commonplace. When the ritual was over I knew I had done the right thing. I knew there were at least a few women who were grateful to have participated but I was also utterly emotionally drained. To lead when you don't know if you are wanted takes a lot of strength, and this is very minor compared to areas that have needed leaders through history.

The next day we were back at Tiferet, our Shira Hadasha halakhically egalitarian minyan. I led Psukei Dzimra for the first time and leined maftir and led Hoshanot for the entire group for the 4th time. AND IT WASN'T A BIG DEAL. I enjoy this. We've done it year after year. It's powerful. It's a little fun. It's something that needs to happen yearly as part of our service and we just did it. No one was judging me and I wasn't fearful of it. This is just what we do.

I want to be someone who makes a difference in the world. I also want to be someone who sticks around and helps with the routine.

You need both change and routine to sustain Judaism.