A First For Everything

Yesterday I attended a program at my temple and listened to the first female Rabbi in the Reform movement speak. She was ordained forty years ago. I went to the program because I'm intrigued by "firsts"—the first day of school, the first mark in the newly swept sand on the beach, the first scoop out of the peanut butter jar, the first star in the night sky. There's something about witnessing the end of the space before that "first." I'm not sure exactly how to explain it. I guess to me it's similar to when something important happens and I look at the event and say, "Wow, yesterday, I had no idea that life would change in this way." Looking at the "firsts" gives me a glimpse of the before and after.

Sometimes that "first" is no big deal. While the first day of school is exciting, it will happen again each year. Being the first to scoop out the peanut butter jar is satisfying, but meaningless. Other times, that "first" shouldn't be a big deal, but is, like the first African American President, or the first female Rabbi. How nice would it be to know that people are treated equally and we don't have to recognize a "first" based on gender or race or religion?

With all that in mind, I attended the program, expecting to marvel at this "first" for women. I guess I wanted the opportunity to gaze into the fishbowl, to find out what makes her tick, to witness a part of history. And I got that. She was interesting, funny and intelligent. I'm glad she was the first, because she's a great example that others can learn from, a terrific role model for our children. But if I have to be honest, I almost found the other attendees even more interesting.

As I looked around the room at the fifty-or-so people seated in the room, I was fascinated to see that there were many men in attendance. They weren't there because their wives forced them to go; they were engaged and asked questions afterward. I wonder if she took notice of this, and if it has any meaning to her? She had mentioned that male Rabbis and students often sought her out because of the publicity value at the time. Yesterday, the only benefit anyone in that room received, male or female, was knowledge. I think if I were the first woman speaking to a room full of people and men were there listening to me, I'd take it as a sign of progress.

I was most interested, though, to see the variety of generations present in the room, and how differently those generations reacted to her presentation. The Rabbi was in her 60s or 70s, I think. Many attendees were of a similar age, or at least, the same generation. As I watched them watch her, I could see them nodding and responding in ways that the rest of us couldn't do. No matter how approachable her story, the rest of the room couldn't relate first hand to the anathema of a female Rabbi and what that meant to the rest of the Reform movement. We could understand it from a distance, but we hadn't lived it.

Those of us in the room who were around my age grew up when women were doing more and more things. While definitely not equal, we know that's the goal and quite frankly, we look with bewilderment and anger upon anyone who doesn't feel that way. The necessity to fight for change is there, but to a lesser extent (that is, until we hear politicians making stupid statements) and it's more situational. We weren't there for the "first" and we didn't see what life was like before that change. We've only seen how it's changed since then.

My daughter's class was also in that room. They behaved well and were respectful (a huge feat when you have a group of 13-year-olds in the front row), but they didn't connect in the way the rest of us did. To them, she was interesting, a piece of history. They haven't experienced people telling them they can't do something and they haven't taken a huge notice of "firsts." When I talk to my kids about equal rights for a group of people, it makes perfect sense to them. Of course that should be the case. What kind of an idiot would think otherwise (it's all in the eye-roll)? The importance of the issue is part of their "normal."

I'm glad I attended the program; I enjoyed listening to the Rabbi; and the surprising interest I took in watching those around me makes me look forward to other events in the future.