The Sandal, the Kotel and a Cemetery: Religion and State in Israel
What do a sandal, the Kotel and a cemetery all have in common? All of these things and places are pieces in the long and winding story of religion and state in Israel.
The State of Israel is a complicated tapestry interwoven with threads of Jewish religion and democracy; these strands tangle at almost every turn of Israeli life, but especially in religious Jewish life.
What does it mean to be a Jewish state? What does it mean to be a democratic state? And perhaps most importantly, what does it mean to be a Jewish democratic state? These questions lay at the foundation of Israel’s identity and they were also the main focus of my summer experience interning at ITIM, a Jewish life advocacy center in Jerusalem.
During my time at ITIM, headed by Rabbi Seth Farber, I had the opportunity to learn about specific issues relating to religion and state through working in their office in Har Hotzvim, going on various field trips and hearing from a gamut of speakers.
In discussing a myriad of issues regarding religion and state, such as marriage, defining Jewish identity, agunot, halachic prenuptials, state funded mikvaot, burials, conversions and more, I am now able to see how truly complex and anomalous the Land of Israel is. No piece of this story is simple. For example, an Israeli citizen can be recognized as Jewish by the Chief Rabbinate but not by the Ministry of Interior and vice versa.
This brings us back to the sandal, a simple shoe with a heartbreaking story behind it. In Jewish tradition, two concepts come into play in a case where a childless husband dies and leaves his wife behind: yibum and chalitzah. Through yibum, the wife marries her late husband’s brother. Chalitzah is the mechanism to undo or get out of the marriage obligation between the wife and the brother-in-law. Part of the chalitzah procedure involves the widow taking her late husband’s brother’s shoe and spitting on the floor. Since Israel is a Jewish state expected to provide for the religious needs of the country, it provides the special sandal needed for the chalitzah process.
Chalitzah happens rarely, but every case is extremely tragic and requires a heightened amount of sensitivity. Though this area of Jewish law is extremely delicate, the actual experience is procedural. In the same way one goes to a DMV or doctor’s office for a license, appointment or prescription, one goes to the Rabbanut’s beit din for the chalitzah process. In Israel, chalitzah is not just a religious event; it is a governmental one. This blurring between religious ritual and state function transforms something extremely sensitive and emotional like chalitzah into a dry, bureaucratic procedure.
The tension between religion and state is seen at sites that most would consider solely religious. Though the Kotel is a religious site, once a month it becomes a place of democratic protest. Every Rosh Chodesh a group of Jewish women gather in the women’s section of the Kotel to pray and read aloud from the Torah, many wearing ritual prayer shawls generally worn by men. While they go through the morning prayer service, it is not uncommon to see and hear an opposing crowd of ultra-Orthodox men protesting the Women of the Wall group and their religious activities. From outside the women’s section comes booing, heckling and jeering. It is unclear which becomes more of an act of protest — the women praying or the opposing groups screaming.
At this most religious and sacred site, the clash between the perception of what Jewish practice should look like and the ability to practice Judaism as one wishes — especially in a free and democratic state — is so obviously present. This clash raises unique questions: What happens when a site of prayer and holiness becomes politicized? What happens when prayer itself becomes a form of protest and also engenders protest?
What does a cemetery have to do with religion and state, you ask? Some Israelis practice old traditions known as minhag Yerushalayim (the custom of Jerusalem). According to minhag Yerushalayim, it is improper for parents to take any part in the burial and funeral of a child that died as a stillborn or newborn. This leaves bereaving families without any knowledge of where their child was buried, compounding their grief and inability to find comfort in such tragedy.
The ITIM office and its assistance center spreads awareness so families know what their burial rights are. They also help advocate for grieving parents by locating the graves of their stillborns and newborns if that information was previously withheld from them. In addition to this, ITIM representatives go to various hospitals and give presentations about burials and the different chevrot kaddishah (burial societies) options in Israel to help ensure mourners know what their options are so that they can participate in as much or as little of the burial process as they want.
ITIM does not shy away from the difficult questions raised by the tension between religion and state. I am grateful to have had the opportunity to meet and work with ITIM’s staff and to investigate with them the puzzling spaces where Israeli bureaucracy and Judaism meet. Each topic prompts new questions, but through my summer experience I became certain that questions like these make the State of Israel the beautiful, intricate and complicated mosaic that it is.
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Photo Caption: Inside the president’s house in Jerusalem
Photo Credit: Hadassah Reich
