We don’t run the show or make the rules

U

 sually my tales involve interactions between myself and others, but this column is different, as it involves just me.

This column is about me and only me.

Recently, I was in Eretz Yisrael. One Friday night I arrived at shul, and it was already filled to capacity. I had no choice but to join other men in the women’s section.

The mechitzah was a wall with a few small breaks to facilitate hearing. I could not see the chazzan, nor could I see the aron kodesh; in fact, I could not see anything except the backs of a few men.

I know what you’re thinking: Here comes another article about women and their “place” in Jewish society. No doubt I’ll be reiterating the oft-repeated mantra of “separate yet equal” or some other recycled apologetic in the vein of “everyone has their role.” Or perhaps I will even have the tenacity to raise the hot-button issue of the “invisible woman” and whether women’s faces should appear in print or not.

Sorry to disappoint you, but I am not going to either validate or vilify those women who feel ignored or discounted. To paraphrase Mark Antony, “I come to bury the chauvinist, not to praise him.”

The belief that one gender is in essence superior to the other is certainly against normative Orthodoxy. I am neither discounting nor validating the feelings of many pure and holy women who feel scorned, nor am I dismissive of those who passionately defend their understanding of modesty. I’ll leave it to others to argue out the issue and limit myself to my own personal experience.

There I was, the rabbi of a large and, baruch Hashem, successful shul in Passaic, who often can look out on a crowd of over 200 men on a Friday evening, now sitting on a flimsy plastic chair in the women’s section of a shul packed with men who I heard, yet could not see.

I am used to my seat in shul, always available irrespective of the crowdedness of the shul, and now I sat on a wobbly seat, unnoticed by all. Although this anonymity was euphoric, it was simultaneously also quite humbling.

As I struggled to see, and deal with my dueling emotions, an epiphany washed over me that granted me emotional respite.

I am not in control and I don’t run this shul, nor do I set the rules.

I am a guest, and that realization allows me the peacefulness to accept my situation, irrespective of what I would have preferred.

Once I arrive at the realization that I am a guest who does not set the rules, a blissful feeling of acceptance comes over me.

I am not comparing my situation with those who sit regularly “behind the wall,” as next week I was back in my “kisei havavod” in my shul, and my entire experience was limited to one Friday night in the women’s section.

Yet this article is not about men in the women’s section, or about women in the women’s section.

Rather, it’s about acceptance.

It’s about the realization and recognition that I am not always in charge and I do not make the rules.

It’s about being able to come to a state of bliss and peace and acceptance when we truly realize and humbly accept that whatever situation we may be in — despite all the gadgets and devices that usually grant us immediate gratification — we don’t run the show or make the rules.

When you are finally in a situation that forces you (as it did me) to humbly accept your reality as is, a delightful reward of ecstatic bliss awaits you.

 (Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 695)