~ Anna Shapiro

High school exposed me to a wider range of halakhic positions. I was disturbed to discover that over half the girls in my freshman Gemara class had leyned at their bat mitzvahs. These weren’t girls who had no respect for halakha; they were, for the most part, girls with a deep commitment to halakha and whom I trusted to make decisions that remained within the pale of Orthodoxy. So what was I missing? What was it that led my new friends to accept something that was so tabooed in the community of my childhood?

The next few years took me on a roller coaster ride of varying sentiments about women leyning and about the role of women in Judaism in general. It was not an issue I was willing to shrug aside by either completely accepting or completely rejecting these new ideas. So I went on my own quest to find a satisfying answer. Following a series of conversations and reading a collection of books and articles, the details of which are beyond the scope of this article, I concluded that reading from the Torah was something with which I was personally comfortable. Indeed, women leyning, at least in the presence of other women, is something which should pose no halakhic issue at all.

During my senior year of high school, my friend Ricki agreed to teach me how to leyn. With the elaborate crowns above the letters, I could hardly make out what the words were, but at the same time, I felt more connected to them than I ever had before. When I leyned, I was participating in a Jewish tradition that existed long before me and that will continue to exist long after me. By serving as an active link in that chain, Tanakh became more than a historical account or interesting literary work. I no longer had to rely on someone else’s interpretations to feel connected to the text. Leyning the words took them out of the page and brought them to life. It didn’t matter that I was completely tone deaf and anyone listening to my leyning would probably cringe. Leyning became a way for me to connect to my heritage and to the sacred words of Tanakh, completely devoid of any external concerns.

Learning how to leyn exposed me to a skill that would help me participate in tefillah, but more importantly, it opened my eyes to an entirely different way of approaching and connecting to Tanakh. Teaching me how to leyn rekindled Ricki’s passion for leyning.  Both of us recognized the importance of acquiring this skill, but also realized that unless a child learns to leyn for his or her bar or bat mitzvah, it is unlikely that he or she will ever learn. So we decided to share our passion with others by creating an organization called The Leyning Partnership. The Leyning Partnership’s mission, most broadly, is to make leyning more accessible to people of any gender and all backgrounds. It provides information about online resources that teach leyning, pairs up tutors with students to provide free access to high quality education, and engages in open discussion about the role of Torah reading in public prayer and about the role of women in Torah reading. Our goal is to enable the widest possible range of people to learn to leyn in a way that is most convenient to them.

Current impediments to leyning include financial, halakhic, and geographical constraints. The Leyning Partnership seeks to overcome all these boundaries. When leyning lessons cost up to $100 an hour, it is difficult to afford such a luxury, especially if you are not actively preparing for your bar or bat mitzvah. The Leyning Partnership counteracts this by providing free, volunteer-based tutoring to interested students, so that cost does not have to be a deterrent. As I articulated earlier, many people have halakhic concerns regarding women leyning. By explaining sources in a non-biased way, the Leyning Partnership seeks to address these concerns. Finally, some students are constrained from learning how to leyn because of geographic disabilities: they live too far from the mainstream Jewish world to find anyone to teach them how to leyn. The Leyning Partnership provides lessons via Skype in order to eliminate this problem. You can find out more about our programs by visiting our website, or visiting our Facebook page.

I am not asking you to learn something that makes you uncomfortable. My personal analysis led me to the conclusion that it is acceptable to leyn, but there are a range of interpretations that could lead to a variety of conclusions. I am asking you to consider the idea of leyning as something that might be more halakhically acceptable than you have always assumed. Even if it is not something that feels immediately compelling to you, I am asking you to consider it as something that could expand your relationship with Tanakh and Judaism. Opening yourself up to this possibility really can change your life.

~ Leah Slaten

~ Faye Lax at Fashion Recovery

Does the pagan thirst succeed–
Or does it crumble into a used up heap?
Does it glisten like the sun–
Tempting those who have not won?

Where do these dead men go–
On the shores of milky bays,
Or do they scurry through lonely ways?

What becomes of the sharpened knives?
Are they thrown or do they die?

Where does this vicious cycle end–
In a friendly fire or a peaceful land?

~ Ariana Spalter

~ Rachel Glassman

~ Ruchie Gross

A lot of families from our neighborhood have been disappearing recently, and no one will tell me why. After the Rabinowitzes left without taking any of their things with them and a new family moved in, I asked Mama. She shushed me and told me not to ask again. But after the Rabinowitzes came the Birnbaums, and after the Birnbaums came the Abrams, and I began losing track after that. When I ask why everyone is leaving, they say that I’m a little girl and won’t understand it. I think eight years old is very mature, and I think I could understand anything they could tell me.

One day I decide enough is enough and ask my oma about it. My oma tells me everything, stories about how silly mama was when she was a girl like me and how her life was so much different than mine.

“Oma?” I ask when my grandmother is sitting in her chair in the living room. I snuggle into her lap. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Katharina.”

“Why are so many families leaving the neighborhood without their things? And why are new families moving into their houses and using their stuff?” I ask.

Oma sighs. “Has Mama or Papa explained this to you?” I shake my head. “Do you really want me to?” I nod. “Okay, Kathy. But you have to promise you won’t tell Mama or Papa I told you this.” I nod eagerly, glad to get an answer to my question. “Have you noticed the yellow stars some people have been wearing?”

“The Jews,” I said. “We learned about them in school.”

“What did you learn about them?”

“That they’re not as good as us, and Hitler is working to make sure that they’re separated from us.”

She sighed. “Will you believe me if I tell you that’s not true?”

I think about it for a little bit. My oma knows everything. “Yes.”

“Good. Because it’s not. Jews are just as good as any other human out there. But Hitler doesn’t think so, and he’s been trying to send them away from us. That’s where all the families have gone.”

“So it’s only Jewish families?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know I knew any Jews.”

Oma laughs. “You certainly do know many Jews. Your little friend Esther down the block is Jewish. So is Sara across the street.”

“Wait…is Hitler going to make them leave too?” I’m suddenly outraged. How could Hitler do something as silly as that? Esther and Sara are just as good as I am. We play together all the time. Why should they be sent away? Where are they going, anyway?

“He might. I don’t know, Kathy. Don’t dwell on it.”

“But we have to save them!” I exclaim, crawling off of Oma’s lap and looking her in the eyes. “We can’t let them get sent away! I’m friends with Esther and Sara!”

“I know, Kathy. But we can’t do anything about it. When you say your prayers at night, have Esther and Sara in mind. But don’t tell anyone that you are, okay? And don’t tell anyone that I told you all this. It’s our secret, okay?” Oma smiles at me and puts an aged finger to her lips. I smile back and put my finger on my lips too.

“Okay,” I say. “But I still think we should make sure Hitler doesn’t send Esther and Sara away.”

~ Talia Weisberg

And over time a rope was formed

Strengthened by my toil,

Thickened by my hope.

And the grip got tighter.

And just when i thought i finally had you,

the blade hit the rope.

And you were lost.

~ Chaya Mushka Barchaim