Rabbi Janet Marder

February15, 2008

A Story That Was Lost

             Question: what do the following people have in common? Nancy Pelosi, Janet Reno, Carly Fiorina and a certain senator from New York who is a contender for the Democratic presidential nomination. Answer: according to a considerable body of research, they’re all caught in a double bind.

             Along with all the election coverage in recent weeks, I’m sure you’ve read about psychological studies on the problems faced by women who aspire to leadership. The first problem is that people, both men and women, seem to perceive female leaders more negatively than male leaders. In controlled experiments, when female leaders say and do exactly the same things as male leaders, they get a less favorable response. This negative bias is largely unconscious, which makes it difficult to talk about or address.

             Women leaders are evaluated by others on two dimensions – competence and warmth (sometimes called “likability” these days). These qualities operate in “teeter-totter” fashion: if women go up in one area they go down in the other.

             This is the double bind: the more strong and successful a woman appears, the less popular she becomes. The more caring, kind and nurturing a woman is perceived to be, the less she’s seen as capable and effective. This dynamic doesn’t operate with men. Male politicians who are “family men” improve their public image, but a woman who has a baby will be seen as less competent.

             So how can you prove that you are a competent woman? Research shows that men who are assertive and self-promoting are viewed positively by others, while women who promote themselves are disliked. One study even shows that male bosses are less likely to hire such a woman, even if they acknowledge her capabilities. They’d prefer to hire a woman they like than a woman they know can do the work [see “Clinton Battles Unconscious Bias Against Strong Women,” by Daisy Grewal and Elena Grewal, San Jose Mercury News, February 11, 2008].

            I found all of this research very interesting – and distressing. It’s enough to make me burst into tears and have hysterics – or would that make me seem less competent?

            Let me set your mind at rest. I’m not going to speak from the bima about that senator from New York – or about any other candidate, for that matter. But I do want to say something tonight about one Jewish woman leader who makes all of these psychological studies sound rather absurd.

            I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve never heard of this leader. If you look her up in the 16-volume Encyclopedia Judaica, you won’t find an entry for her. Until quite recently she was virtually unknown. But her story deserves to be told.           

            Regina Jonas was born in Berlin on August 3, 1902. Her parents, like many others in the neighborhood, were Orthodox Jews, poor immigrants from Eastern Europe . Her father was unsuccessful in business and barely eked out a living. When Regina was 11 years old he died, leaving his wife and two children penniless. His funeral was paid for by the local Jewish community.

            Regina ’s mother, forced to move to a cheaper apartment, found one that was next door to a small Orthodox synagogue. Regina was strongly drawn to the atmosphere of this congregation. The rabbi, Dr. Max Weil, took an interest in the fatherless girl and encouraged her to go on with her studies, first at a Jewish elementary school and then in the Hochschule fur die Wissenschaft des Judentums (the Institute for Jewish Studies, a prestigious liberal teachers’ college and seminary). There Regina was one of 27 female students out of a total of 155.

             In 1930 she received a teaching certificate from the Hochschule and began to support herself and her mother as a teacher of Hebrew and Judaic studies. Despite her affiliation with a liberal institution, she lived as an observant Jew in all respects. She continued to study at the Hochschule, and when she completed her program three years later she wrote a dissertation entitled “Can a Woman Become a Rabbi?” She meticulously presented the traditional sources in Hebrew and demonstrated that halacha, Jewish law, does indeed permit a woman to be ordained.

             Her paper was well-received by the faculty, but when Jonas requested ordination from her Talmud professor, the renowned Hanoch Albeck, he refused. She then turned with hope to the great liberal rabbi Leo Baeck, head of the Jewish community of Berlin , who had been her teacher for many years. Rabbi Baeck, concerned about the recent rise of the Nazis, was focused on keeping the community together. Ordaining a woman, he knew, would enrage the Orthodox and destroy any hope of a united Jewish front. He, too, refused Jonas – though privately, and behind the scenes, he continued to encourage her.

             Two years later, another rabbi privately ordained Regina Jonas, making her, at the age of 33, the first woman rabbi in the history of the Jewish people. Some years later, in 1942, Leo Baeck added his signature to her ordination certificate.

             Regina Jonas never married and continued to live with her mother. She looked for work as a rabbi but could not find a German congregation willing to engage her. She found work, instead, as a teacher in Jewish schools, lectured widely in Jewish organizations, published many newspaper articles and served as a chaplain in the Jewish hospital, homes for the aged and institutes for the blind.

             Here is an eyewitness account that gives us some sense of what her life was like:

             “In Berlin there lived at this time in the 1930s the first woman rabbi, Fraulein Rabbiner Regina Jonas.  She watched carefully that one said ‘Fraulein Rabbiner’ because a ‘frau rabbiner’ was the wife of a rabbi.   She came into the hospital and old age home very often, and there she wanted to function as a rabbi.  Generally, this worked in the old age home.  In the hospital, she came into the synagogue wearing a purple robe – not black – and she sat herself downstairs next to the men on the rabbi’s seat.  She wanted to give her lecture or sermon during the prayers, but always when this doctor was there and prayed with the people, he said to her, ‘You can do what you want, but for the prayers you go upstairs to the women, and afterwards you can come downstairs’.”

             Following Krystallnacht, in 1938, the Jewish community of Beriln was gradually depleted. As rabbis emigrated or were sent to concentration camps, Regina Jonas ironically found more congregational opportunities open to her, and was invited to serve as guest preacher in several synagogues, though none was willing to offer her a position. Finally, in November, 1942, she too was deported, along with her mother, to the concentration camp at Theresienstadt.

             There, in the ghetto, she continued to serve as a rabbi. Working closely with the famous psychologist Viktor Frankl, she was assigned the devastating task of meeting new arrivals as they got off the trains, comforting them in their shock and despair, helping them adjust to the terrible realities of their new life.

              Regina went on teaching, as well. The archives of Theresienstadt contain a list of 23 lectures given by “the one and only woman rabbi, Regina Jonas.” They reveal that she was a powerful, inspiring figure who labored to bring hope to her doomed congregation. Among her lessons and lectures, just one sermon has survived. It concludes with these words:

             “Our Jewish people is sent from God into history as ‘blessed,’ by our blessed God, which means, wherever one steps in every life situation, [try to] bestow blessing, goodness and faithfulness….To establish these pillars of the world was and is Israel’s task. Men and women, women and men have undertaken this work with the same Jewish faithfulness. This ideal also serves as our testing work in Theresienstadt. We are God’s servants, and as such we are moving from earthly to heavenly spheres. May all our work, which we have tried to perform as God’s servants, be a blessing for Israel ’s future and humanity.”

            After two years of devoted service to her fellow prisoners, in October, 1944, Regina Jonas was deported to Auschwitz , where she perished, at the age of 42. 

            The memory of Regina Jonas then disappeared for decades. Leo Baeck, who was Jonas’ teacher and worked alongside her in Theresienstadt, survived the war but never publicly mentioned her name. Viktor Frankl, on whose staff Jonas served, also never referred to her in any of his writings or lectures. No one knew that the first woman rabbi in history had lived and worked as a well-known figure in 1930s Berlin .

            Then, in 1989, the Berlin Wall fell and Germany was reunifed. Western scholars began to visit the cities of East Germany , looking for documents hidden in the archives of the former communist state. Among them was Katharina von Kellenbach, a lecturer in philosophy and theology at St. Mary’s College, a small Christian college in Maryland . Von Kellenbach had been born in Germany and came to the United States after one of her uncles, who served during World War II as deputy governor in the Polish city of Pinsk , went on trial for crimes against the Jews.

            In her research, Von Kellenbach had studied the strong anti-Jewish bent of the feminist theology then current in the German Protestant church. In 1991 she went to East Berlin . There, in a small, isolated archive, she found an envelope containing a document written in Hebrew and German: it was the teaching certificate awarded by the Hochschule to Regina Jonas. In the same envelope was a large photo of Jonas wearing rabbinical robes, and another, astonishing document: a semicha, dated December 25, 1935 and signed by Dr. Max Dienemann, head of the Liberal Rabbis’ Association in the city of Offenbach , ordaining  Regina Jonas to serve as a rabbi in the Jewish communities of Germany .

             In the envelope there were also many newspaper clippings from Germany and Switzerland that told of Jonas’ determined efforts to become a rabbi, and of the resistance she encountered after ordination, even from those German Jews who considered themselves tolerant liberals.

             The last document in the envelope was dated November 6, 1942. In it, Dr. Joseph Norden, an acquaintance of Regina Jonas, wrote that Rabbi Jonas had given him these materials on the day she was sent to Theresienstadt. Norden, who was himself deported a few days later, put the papers in an envelope in the archive, where they remained for 49 years.

            Katharina von Kellenbach published a paper in German on her findings and brought the story of Regina Jonas to the world. The following year, in a small, private ceremony, Regina Jonas’ photograph and semicha were presented to Leo Baeck College , the liberal Jewish seminary in London , where they are now displayed.

            Our Torah portion for this week, Tetzaveh, describes the ordination of the priests of Israel , Aaron and his sons, who were dedicated and consecrated in service to the people. This portion is the only one between the end of Genesis and the beginning of Deuteronomy that does not mention the name of Moses. It is a striking phenomenon, much noted by our commentators. The great teacher and leader of his people is absent from this story.

            And so I thought about another great leader and teacher of our people, too long absent from our history, who fought so hard and served so bravely in the darkest of times for the Jews. It seems fitting, on this Shabbat, to give her back her place in the story.

             During my sabbatical I thought a lot about what it means to me to be an ordained rabbi, to be your rabbi. It means that I have the pleasure of immersing myself in the most beautiful and profound teachings I know, and then sharing those teachings with you. I get to help your kids grow up proud and happy to be Jewish.  I have the joy of building with you a true community of honor, justice and love. I have the challenge of being with you in dark times, doing my best to bring you comfort and hope.

             Being your rabbi means that I can put on a beard at Purim but you don’t mind my lack of a beard for the rest of the year. It means that in this place I don’t have to make the absurd choice between being strong and having a heart. Being your rabbi is my life’s path, a path of blessing, goodness and faith. I cannot imagine a more fulfilling path to walk.

             In 1938, three years after winning her heart’s desire, Rabbi Regina Jonas wrote these words to a friend:

             I hope a time will come for all of us in which there will be no more questions on the subject of ‘woman’: for as long as there are questions, something is wrong. But if I must say what drove me as a woman to become a rabbi, two elements come to mind: my belief in the godly calling and my love for people. God has placed abilities and callings in our hearts, without regard to gender. Thus each of us has the duty, whether man or woman, to realize those gifts God has given. If you look at things this way, one takes woman and man for what they are: human beings”  [from letter to Mala Laaser, trans.Toby Axelrod. In “The Torah: A Woman’s Commentary,” ed. Tamara Eskenazi and Andrea Weiss].