Is A Men-Only Rabbinate Ethical?

by Rabbi Brad Hirschfield
Special To The Jewish Week

With sentiments rising and battle lines being drawn in light of the recent decision to found a new Jewish institution for the purpose of training women as Orthodox clergy, I was struck by a piece in the New York Times Magazine that carries a question posed to Randy Cohen, who writes “The Ethicist” column. His answer strikes me as ethically questionable, but more importantly, it points out the pitfalls of how a topic like this is usually addressed. First, the question and relevant portion of his answer:
“I belong to a Catholic religious order and am in formation to become a priest. As part of my training, I attended a university that was founded by my order. Nonreligious students also attend, but we religious students

receive scholarships. Is this akin to any other scholarship, like that for an athlete, or is it discriminatory, especially because the order does not admit women? NAME WITHHELD, PORTLAND, ORE.”

Cohen responds: “There’s nothing wrong with a religious order establishing a school for its members. ... What is at issue, as you suggest, is sex discrimination: your order’s refusal to admit women. ... You might regard yourself as preparing to be a beneficiary of entrenched workplace discrimination, an ethically troubling position.”

Oh, really? Is it inherently unethical to support a men-only clergy? Why would that be the case?
In the interest of full disclosure, I ask these questions as a practicing Orthodox Jew who supports the ordination of women as rabbis. But I also appreciate that mine may not be the only ethical response to honoring both thousands of years of tradition/wisdom and contemporary insight/sensitivity about what is most ethical.

The traditional understanding of any faith that bars women from the clergy would have us believe that men and women have separate roles in religious society not simply because of the physical realities that shaped members’ existence, i.e. men brought home the bacon, or beef fry in our case, and therefore were seen as holders not only of physical authority, but spiritual authority also. Beyond such mechanistic explanations, such traditional understandings teach that men and women have deep spiritual/psychological/dispositional differences that define the different roles within the community.
Are they right? I don’t know. But scientific research, not to mention some of the most sophisticated feminist theory out there, suggests that there is something to that position. Actually, given the deep connections between our minds, bodies and spirits, that should not be so surprising. And it would be wise to keep that insight in play on both sides of these often heated discussions about women as Orthodox clergy.

But does the knowledge of fundamental differences between the sexes justify not admitting women to full equality in religious leadership? I can only say that the track record of any argument defending “separate but equal” treatment, essentially the one made in all communities that make it their practice to exclude women from the clergy, is not good. While the claim may be compelling in theory, I cannot name a single example where it made good long-term policy.

So we are left with a question — how do we balance the need to properly honor men’s and women’s experience, and the fact that too often doing so becomes an excuse for either one side’s dominance over the other, or the exclusion of one group from making as full a contribution as possible to the community of which they are a part?

We must begin by seriously asking if “equal” must always mean “the same as.” For us to achieve an ethical model of community in general, or spiritual leadership in particular, must things always appear the same to the outside observer, or might they be better measured by gaining a deeper appreciation of the internal experience of those affected?

This will be difficult for both sides in this debate. For those who insist that a male-only clergy is “the only way to go,” they will need to ask themselves two important questions. First, can they find a single example of a truly static institution that was never redefined over the course of time? And second, they will need to ask if ethical practice never admits any legitimacy about the needs of those with whom they disagree, can they really be an ethical community?

For those who imagine that a male-only clergy can never be a fully ethical institution, it means paying more attention to the reported experience of women living within systems that embrace it. And the argument that women living in such situations are simply too ignorant of what they “should want” is not a real response to those who report being entirely satisfied with the status quo.

Like many who go out to battle for ethics, especially in the area of faith, Randy Cohen was seduced by the same well-intentioned arrogance that animates the question of women’s ordination on both sides of the issue. Too often, this debate is about the insistence that other people’s experience needs to match our own, and when it does not, we assert that those who differ from us are either less ethical or less religious. Both ethics and religion are bigger than that, and it’s high time to integrate that awareness into whatever spiritual practice we follow, or side of this issue any of us stands.

Rabbi Brad Hirschfield is the president of CLAL-The National Jewish Center for Learning and Leadership and the author of “You Don’t Have to Be Wrong for Me to Be Right: Finding Faith Without Fanaticism.”

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