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Vol. 69, No. 1 (Winter 2025-26) - Teaching Halakhah in the Conservative Movement

Case Studies for Teaching Halakhah Through Clergy-Congregant Partnerships

Susan Grossman

Masorti Judaism has always viewed itself as a halakhic movement, faithful to Jewish law and tradition, as it navigates tensions between traditional Jewish practice and evolving social conditions and mores. This tension has been a dynamic part of the secret of Jewish survival. Thousands of generations of Jews and their religious leaders have sought the right balance between tradition and change, Jewish unity and diversity, and cultural accommodation and fidelity to Jewish identity and observance.

The Committee on Jewish Law and Standards (CJLS) has served as the Conservative Movement’s laboratory for navigating these tensions in ways that are consistent with Jewish values, halakhic tradition, and a deep commitment to yirʾat shamayim, or “fear of heaven,” the humility to question whether one’s decision is consistent with God’s will and how it might affect future generations. The toolbox at our disposal is extensive, encompassing not only the collective wisdom of thousands of years of Jewish biblical, rabbinic, and halakhic literature but also innovative advances in science, medicine, engineering, sociology, psychology, political philosophy, ethics, and more. One of the most essential elements in judiciously applying modern knowledge to Jewish practice is our understanding of metahalakhic values, biblically derived moral imperatives. Metahalakhic values such as piquaḥ nefesh (Leviticus 18:5 and 19:16, which prioritize protecting and saving a life) and betselem Elohim (Genesis 1:27, which affirms the equality of all humanity as created in God’s image) have guided the decisions of our movement through challenging times.1

How we do halakhah distinguishes us as a Movement and is therefore just as important as the actual decisions we make. We deliberate and decide halakhah well, guided by the wisdom of past sages and the appointed body of contemporary rabbinic scholars and committed laypeople serving on our movement’s CJLS. Conservative Judaism was founded to conserve Jewish tradition and its commitment to the observance of Jewish law. Our challenge is not our halakhic process itself but how we engage our laity in that process in ways that inspire them to care enough and learn enough to guide their practice and decisions. How can we teach halakhah to reach ʿamkhah, our congregants and the broader Jewish community, in ways that inspire them to return for more?

I sat on CJLS for most of my thirty-three years in the pulpit, serving eight years with Genesis Agudas Achim in Westchester, New York, and twenty-five years with Beth Shalom Congregation in Columbia, Maryland, before becoming its rabbi emerita. The time commitment to CJLS was considerable, especially before the advent of Zoom and Google Docs. For years, meetings were held quarterly in person over two days in New York City, until we shifted to biannual multiday meetings. Each member was responsible for writing teshuvot (“responses” to questions of Jewish law and observance) in their areas of expertise and interest. In addition, I advised on and helped edit various teshuvot in my capacity as chair of the Sub-Committee on Women, Gender and Human Sexuality, and later as co-chair with Daniel Nevins of its successor, the Sub-Committee on Personal Status.

I wanted congregants to feel they had a stake in and could contribute to CJLS deliberations, rather than thinking of my time spent with CJLS as non-congregational business. I hoped that informing them of issues under consideration, to the extent appropriate, and inviting their input would inspire a personal stake not only in upcoming CJLS deliberations, but also in how halakhah could inform their lives and those of the larger Jewish community. What an opportunity for congregants to help shape Jewish history!

I sought to integrate the consideration of halakhah into all aspects of congregational life. Opportunities for teaching halakhah arose in formal and informal conversations with board and religious committee members regarding congregational policy. Some took place in conversations with congregants who had specialties in medicine and other fields related to issues CJLS was considering or I was writing about. Before lighting candles at congregational dinners, I explained the halakhic reasoning behind differences in Shabbat and holiday candle-lighting. The history, practice, and content of halakhah were integrated into adult education courses, interfaith events, and student, family, and parent programs. The most poignant moments occurred in hospital waiting rooms, by the bedside of loved ones, in mourners’ homes, and during office appointments, as congregants grappled with medical decisions and ethical dilemmas.

In classes, board meetings, and discussions with the religious committee, we explored the process of making halakhic decisions, the strengths and weaknesses of the Jewish predilection for allowing alternative or multiple “right” answers, and the parameters of personal, rabbinic, and communal authority. Only rarely did I feel the need to give an up or down, patur (“permitted”) or pasul (“prohibited”) decision. Usually, the collective wisdom of my leadership and congregants, the cooperative and respectful nature of our conversations, and the direct exploration of halakhic sources contributed to a consensus that was both acceptable to the congregation and halakhically defensible and reasonable from my perspective as mara deʾatra (“teacher of the place,” or, the halakhic authority of my community) and relevant CJLS decisions.

What follows are several case studies of how teaching halakhah in my congregations became an integral part of congregational life. Congregants and I walked a path of Jewish engagement and study, which helped us navigate change, clarify our values, strengthen connections to the larger Jewish world, and inspire individual and congregational Jewish growth.

Inspiring Jewish Questions to Teach Halakhah: Ask the Rabbi

Asking questions of rabbis is as ancient as the talmudic story of the first-century BCE sage Hillel, who was asked to teach the entire Torah while standing on one foot (b. Shabbat 31a), and as contemporary as the rabbi in Fiddler on the Roof, who was asked what blessing to give the tsar. Anatevka’s fictional rabbi responds with a now-famous quip: “May God bless and keep the tsar far away from us.” Hillel, in his reply, teaches a fundamental Jewish value that, sadly, is less well known although much more important: “What is hateful to you, do not do to another.”

Throughout history, much of halakhah, as well as the Jewish values and practices it defines and guides, was taught in response to questions. Some questions and answers, whether real or imagined, were included in what became the foundational tomes of rabbinic literature: the Mishnah, Tosefta, and Talmud. In subsequent centuries, answers, and sometimes their initiating questions, were collected in a genre of rabbinic literature known as teshuvot (“answers”). As a movement, we continue this process of asking and answering questions of Jewish practice through teshuvot in the deliberations of our Israeli Vaʿad Halakhah and the CJLS, which guides our answers to questions for Masorti Judaism worldwide. Inspiring questions remains one of the most effective ways to teach halakhah, especially practical halakhah that guides personal practice.

How we answer questions is sometimes more important than the questions themselves. Rabbis are asked questions in a myriad of settings, often in response to a pressing need or pastoral concern. I encouraged queries in less urgent situations during scheduled “Ask the Rabbi” visits to religious school classes and, in my Maryland congregation, monthly during Friday evening services. I offered a carrot: a bag of candy to any student who could “stump the rabbi” on a question of Jewish history, belief, law, or practice. Religious school students insisted that their parents bring them to services to try to stump me. Adults got a kick out of seeing students so engaged, even as the adults waited to ask their questions.

Questions about the whys, wherefores, and origins of holiday observances, specific prayers, kashrut, Shabbat, tzedakah, and more offered opportunities to discuss halakhah, or how we walk in God’s ways through Jewish practice. Often, congregants’ interest in specific questions stimulated ideas for family and adult education programs. Offering a structured, nonjudgmental opportunity to ask questions helped build a congregational culture that embraced asking questions as a norm of our communal life, which in turn stimulated a hunger for learning more.

Engaging Congregants in Conservative Judaism by Teaching Halakhah: Qitniyyot

I wanted congregants to feel part of something greater than themselves, their families, and even our congregation and local Jewish community. I hoped that by inviting congregant input on questions currently being considered by CJLS, congregants would view themselves as part of the historic journey and continuous evolution of ʿam Yisraʾel, the Jewish people, and of Conservative Movement practice. With the enthusiastic support of our adult education committee, I began teaching an almost annual series of Friday evening programs titled “CJLS Hot Topics.” I chose topics based on teshuvot currently or soon to be considered, creating clever titles to encourage attendance. Congregants who rarely attended Friday night services came, especially for issues related to their areas of expertise or particular interest. Each session focused on a single issue currently before the CJLS. I briefly outlined the history of the question, shared a source sheet of relevant halakhic concepts and sources that we briefly studied together, and invited questions, comments, recommendations, and debate. In closing, I promised to share their input and update them on CJLS’s final decision.

Whenever a particularly controversial topic arose, my lay leadership and I would schedule these discussions during Friday and Saturday services, sometimes over different weekends, to maximize congregational participation. Such was the case when CJLS considered whether Ashkenazim (Jews of European origin) should be permitted to follow the practice of Sephardim (Jews of Spanish descent and/or from Muslim lands) who permitted eating qitniyyot (legumes, seeds, and rice) on Passover. In Israel, distinctions between Ashkenazi and Sephardi customs were waning. Masorti rabbinic scholar and then head of the Schechter Institute, David Golinkin (son of our congregation’s first rabbi emeritus, Noah Golinkin), had penned a teshuvah for the Israeli Masorti Movement lifting the Ashkenazic prohibition on eating qitniyyot during Passover, based on the cultural and family integration of Ashkenazim and Sephardim in Israel. Our question was: Should the same decision apply to Jews in ḥuts laʾarets, outside Israel?

The congregational buzz began when my newsletter article introduced the subject. Parents discussed it while waiting to pick up their children from religious school. Congregants queried me in supermarket aisles. Services were packed for each session. Congregants paid close attention as I walked them through the sources, from the Talmud to Maimonides, the Shulchan Arukh, and the thirteenth-century Ashkenazi poseq (decider of Jewish law) Mordecai ben Hillel haKohen, known as “the Mordecai” to modern Orthodox posqim like Moshe Feinstein and our own David Golinkin. We explored implications for vegetarians and vegans, as well as being considerate of the sensibilities of Seder guests. Following a lively debate, I took a straw poll. Congregants overwhelmingly favored ending the Passover ban on qitniyyot for Ashkenazim, although a significant minority disagreed. In closing, I emphasized that qitniyyot was not ḥamets (leavened items prohibited on Passover) and therefore did not affect the kashrut of a Passover kitchen. I shared the congregational policy that my lay leadership and I had already agreed on: regardless of CJLS’s decision and what congregants decided to do in their homes, we would not serve qitniyyot in the synagogue during Passover, so that everyone could feel comfortable eating here. As always, I promised to share their input with CJLS and inform the congregation of CJLS’s decision.

Following CJLS’s approval, dozens of congregants contacted me for advice on whether and, if so, how to include qitniyyot in their Passover plans.2 I inquired about their traditional family practices, health needs, and the sensibilities of Seder guests, helping them consider how their Seder menu could align with Jewish values of hakhnasat orḥim (hospitality) and shalom bayit (peace within the home and family). I reminded them that, while serving items containing qitniyyot might be challenging to manage during the Seder, eating qitniyyot at other times would not affect the status of their Passover kitchens, even for guests who strictly avoided qitniyyot on Passover.

Our community conversation about qitniyyot connected my congregants to Jewish practice in Israel and our larger worldwide movement, helping them appreciate their role in the evolving story of Jewish history. More importantly, the overwhelming interest in qitniyyot revealed how deeply congregants care about Jewish law when they see how it directly affects them.

Teaching Halakhah Experientially: B’nei Mitsvah Shabbatons

Each year, in both my congregations, my husband and I hosted parts of an annual Shabbaton sleepover for benei mitsvah students and their families with the help of congregational school staff and parent volunteers. Parents and children learned practical hilkhot kashrut as they helped shop, prepare, serve, and clean up Shabbat meals in our home and synagogue. They learned the reasoning behind Conservative approaches to using electricity on the Sabbath and why, in my home and our synagogue, we did not turn lights on or off or use electronic devices, which meant they had to leave devices at home. We discussed different approaches to driving and why students would walk with me to and from shul. If they became raucous on the walk through our quiet neighborhood, I seized the teaching moment to emphasize such Jewish values as kavod, or showing consideration and respect for others. After helping lead services, enjoying a morning kiddush luncheon followed by Birkat Hamazon (grace after meals), and participating in group-building activities, students and a few parent chaperones walked home with me for an afternoon of free time, socializing, and team competitions that taught and reinforced their Jewish knowledge, all fueled by plenty of snacks. In taking turns leading different parts of Shabbat Minḥah (afternoon prayer) as a student minyan, their confidence grew as they realized they knew more than they thought they did.

Before every Shabbaton, a considerable number of students complained about our ban on electronic devices. As parents returned to my house before students led Havdalah, I began debriefing students. What was fun? What was hard? How was it to unplug for twenty-five hours? Consistently over thirty-three years, students expressed surprise at how much fun they had with their peers, realizing that it was because they were without their devices, and begged us to schedule another Shabbaton soon.

Several factors influence Jewish engagement, including family observance and participation in Jewish summer camps. To the best of my knowledge, none of my students ever adopted a shomer Shabbat lifestyle as adults because of our Shabbaton. Nevertheless, our Shabbatons strengthened the class ties that inspired students’ continued study through Hebrew High confirmation, which in turn encouraged Hillel involvement and participation in Birthright trips to Israel in college, solidifying a Jewish identity that resulted, more often than statistics might predict, in students seeking Jewish spouses who shared their commitment to establishing a Jewish home and affiliating with a Conservative congregation.

Teaching The Evolving Nature of Halakhah to the Next Generation: Homosexuality and the “Oven of Achnai”

The Rabbinical Assembly (RA) had been considering the halakhic status of homosexuality since before I joined the CJLS in 1992. (Terms like LGBTQ+ were not yet part of the lexicon.) I became involved in the issue a few years later with my appointment as chair of the CJLS Sub-Committee on Women, Gender, and Human Sexuality. The issue was controversial and threatened to split the movement, which is perhaps why it was not until 2006 that the CJLS finally passed the first teshuvah to permit homosexual and same-sex marriages and homosexual and lesbian rabbis.3 Although not one of the authors, I partially credit the teshuvah’s passage with my encouragement of Rabbis Elliot Dorff, Daniel Nevins, and Avram Reisner to combine what were originally their three separate teshuvot into one coherent whole. The authors brilliantly utilized the metahalakhic value of kavod habriot (“human dignity”) as well as more technical rabbinic halakhic tools to supersede the literal biblical prohibition against same-sex relationships (Leviticus 18:22).

With the expanding discussion of gay rights reaching our public high schools, and given the explicit biblical injunction against same-sex relationships, our Hebrew High upper-class students had begun to ask about homosexuality in Jewish law. I was invited to address the students on this issue.

Traditional Jewish text study is inductive, based on pairs of students working to understand a text before hearing from an expert teacher. With this model in mind, I created an attractive study sheet showing an open Torah scroll with a rolled column on each side. In the center, I listed relevant biblical sources in Hebrew and English, such as Genesis 1:27 (“God said, ‘Let us create human beings betselem Elohim, in our image’”) and Genesis 2:18 (“it is not good for a human to be alone”), as well as Leviticus 18:22, which prohibits homosexuality. I included some of the talmudic sources cited in the teshuvah, including b. Berakhot 19b (“Great is human dignity”) and b. Bava Qamma 84a (“What is possible is possible; what is impossible is impossible”). In the left column, I listed Jewish concepts such as deʾoraita and derabbanan (biblical and rabbinic commands), betselem Elohim (the inherent worth of being created in God’s image), and mara deʾatra (the local rabbinic authority), among others.

After a brief introduction that invited student questions about the subject, I divided students into ḥevrutot, or small study groups. I instructed them first to review the texts listed in the center of the page and then the Jewish concepts listed in the left column. Next, they were to try to list in the right-hand column which Jewish values were most closely connected to each of the sources listed in the center. Students were intensely engaged throughout the class. I could see their shoulders ease as they made their way through the material in ḥevruta, realizing that the verses reflecting Jewish values they were proud of outnumbered the verses that troubled them, specifically the verse prohibiting homosexuality as an abomination. Upon reconvening, I invited students to share which Jewish values they had connected to different verses and how those values might influence them in various situations.

I then had them turn over the study sheet and take turns reading together what I consider one of our most significant rabbinic sources in the millennia-long struggle to counter fundamentalist biblical literalism. “The Oven of Achnai” (b. Bava Metziʾa 59a-b) is a case study in rabbinic change management. It recounts an incredible, or incredulous, story about the rabbinic sages living under Roman occupation, as they continued to face the challenges of maintaining Jewish survival, unity, and continuity a generation after the Temple’s destruction in 70 CE. During a debate on the ritual purity of a particular type of clay oven, a series of miraculous interventions supports Rabbi Eliezer’s position as a minority of one, culminating in a heavenly voice descending from above, as if to end the debate with a final, unambiguous heavenly decision. The controversy does not end there, though. Without missing a beat, Rabbi Joshua, spokesman for the majority and a leading rabbinic sage at the time, rejects divine intervention, arguing that the majority decision already made by the gathered rabbis must stand, according to God’s own words. He cites prooftexts from the Torah: Deuteronomy 30:12 (“it [i.e., the Torah] is not in heaven”) and Exodus 23:2 (“after the majority incline”).

As my students and I read through the story, we discussed how our holy texts were products of a particular time and place and what that implied about how we are to make sense of those texts when they seem discordant not only with contemporary mores but also with some of our most fundamental Jewish values. We briefly discussed the Jewish tradition of struggling with God as a sacred encounter and how grappling with a troubling biblical and rabbinic text is one way to enter that holy struggle. By the end of the evening, students not only had a better understanding of the basis for the CJLS’s decision to permit homosexuality. They had learned how Jewish law balances respect for tradition with the need for change through rabbinic tradition’s built-in safeguards against fundamentalist literalism, especially when it conflicts with such overarching Jewish values as compassion and respect for all.

I often teach the “Oven of Achnai.” It is one of the foundational talmudic texts establishing the collective authority of rabbinic leadership to continue adapting Jewish law and practice to changing times. It is thus a favorite in Conservative/Masorti Judaism, for we see ourselves as the heirs of these rabbinic sages, our contemporary decision-making process reflected in and authorized by their precedents. The God-given authority they claimed for themselves to judiciously redefine and even override the literal meaning of a biblical commandment underpins our halakhic process.

In its full talmudic presentation, the “Oven of Achnai” is a tragic and complex saga that acknowledges the ambiguity of balancing individual conscience with maintaining communal cohesion, even as it affirms the role of majority rule in sustaining that communal cohesion. A coda to the tale recounts a meeting between Rabbi Nathan and the Prophet Elijah, during which Elijah recounts that God laughed and said, “My sons have defeated me. My sons have defeated me.” The coda is usually interpreted and translated to show God celebrating the rabbis’ decision, like a proud parent celebrating a child’s independence. Yet the continuation of the story may also reflect an ambivalence about majority rule when it fails to carefully balance the need for cohesion with respect for diversity and difference, as well as basic human kindness. Rabbi Eliezer is excommunicated for refusing to abide by the majority decision, thereby socially isolating him, which causes him great distress, denies younger rabbis access to his vast storehouse of knowledge, and sets off a domino effect of other tragic events (b. Bava Metziʾa 59b, b. Sanhedrin 68a).4 We often skip this part of the story, as I did with my high school students. We might do so because of limited time or concerns about the content’s suitability for specific age groups. But when we do, we miss an opportunity to explore alternatives for navigating conflict and deeply held divergences of opinion in concert with such core Jewish values as kavod (respect) and a commitment to klal Yisraʾel, the unity of the Jewish people. Such reflection is particularly pertinent in today’s politically divisive world.

Inspiring Personal Observance By Teaching Halakhah:
Kashrut Workshops

I have found congregants to be exceptionally responsive to the teaching of halakhah when it is offered as a solution to their pressing problems. Sometimes, the impact of studying halakhah extends far beyond those initial concerns. Like many congregations, our Sisterhood assumed responsibility for managing and maintaining our synagogue’s kitchen and its kashrut standards. An influx of new members presented several challenges. Shopping volunteers unintentionally purchased unkosher items. Kitchen items were put where others could not find them. Sisterhood leadership relied on and appreciated new volunteers, but they were at their wit’s end. They wanted to be part of a solution that would not only protect the sanctity and usability of the kitchen but also make new volunteers feel appreciated and part of a Sisterhood that is justly proud of being warm, welcoming, and Jewishly knowledgeable. They came to me for help. Together, we developed a three-step plan to promote greater congregational knowledge and observance of kashrut by teaching the practical halakhah of kashrut.

First, we offered a kashrut workshop. I taught sources and the basic practical halakhot of hilkhot kashrut. A Sisterhood member shared tips for managing the separation of meat and milk in a kosher kitchen at home. Another brought various cans and boxes to practice shopping for kosher items. The wife of a recent convert shared kosher substitutes for favorite nonkosher recipes. Sisterhood offered to match congregants with experienced “kosher buddies” to answer practical questions of becoming kosher and help congregants kasher their kitchens, assisted by a team of Sisterhood’s experienced kosher members whom I had trained for this purpose. Conversion candidates and those seeking to expand their Jewish observance particularly appreciated these opportunities for support.

Next, we worked with Sisterhood and congregational committee chairs to develop and get board approval for two new congregational policies regarding our synagogue kitchens. The first affirmed our congregational commitment to klal Yisraʾel, or Jewish communal unity, by permitting only widely respected heksherim (symbols indicating kosher supervision) for foodstuffs and caterers in our kitchen. The second policy required a certified mashgiaḥ or a congregationally trained para-mashgiaḥ to be present whenever food was brought into the building and/or a synagogue kitchen was used. All kitchen volunteers, congregational committee chairs, and synagogue staff were to receive para-mashgiaḥ training.

In partnership with Sisterhood, our para-mashgiaḥ program trained dozens of volunteers over the years. I taught the basic rules of hilkhot kashrut, including the rationale and procedures for handling what I called “oops” mistakes. Under my guidance, Sisterhood members introduced the symbols of our accepted heksherim and identified which foodstuffs did not require a heksher. They explained kitchen procedures and cleanup protocols, including the importance of not exchanging kitchen utensils or food items between the meat and dairy kitchens. Participants had to pass an exam evaluating their knowledge of practical kashrut halakhah, how to manage potential dilemmas, and kashrut-related kitchen procedures before receiving their para-mashgiaḥ certification and being added to our list of approved kitchen supervisors.

To broaden wider congregational interest in hilkhot kashrut, I leveraged my already popular multiyear series of Friday night mini-lectures on “CJLS Hot Topics” to focus on upcoming CJLS kashrut issues such as lab-grown meat, eating dairy in unsupervised settings, and the ethics of kosher slaughtering, the latter a controversial topic in the news at the time. I also collaborated with committee chairs to develop policies for synagogue-sponsored events held off site, in congregants’ homes, and on school and youth field trips.

Throughout this multiyear project of teaching hilkhot kashrut, congregant kashrut observance increased, more volunteers assisted in the kitchen, and intergenerational friendships developed. Students became more confident about navigating the challenges of keeping kosher when out with their peers. A project that was initiated to protect the sanctity of our synagogue’s kosher kitchens yielded numerous unexpected rewards.

Resolving Controversy By Teaching Halakhah: Women’s Head Covering

Navigating shifts in generational and cultural attitudes requires empathy, patience, the capacity to listen, the ability to help everyone feel heard, and the congregation’s willingness to be guided by halakhah, as determined by the rabbi in her role as mara deʾatra, in consultation with the religious committee, congregational leadership, and members. Even when the CJLS has not yet addressed questions about congregational practice, the vast compendium of rabbinic material in the Bible, Midrash, Talmud, and later codes offers guidance for those willing to seek it. As Ecclesiastes 1:9 reminds us, “there is nothing new under the sun,” although there are often new ways of applying what has preceded us.

Although both my congregations had strong Sabbath attendance among men and women, very few female congregants initially wore kippot or tallitot in the early days following the rabbinic ordination of women. As the number of women wearing head coverings and tallitot increased during my Maryland congregation’s growth and concurrent influx of younger members, questions arose about what egalitarianism meant beyond simply counting women in the minyan. Some felt that if women wanted to be treated as religious equals, they should observe similar requirements to men, including covering their heads and wearing tallitot. Others argued that women should have autonomy over their bodies and clothing. Some women expressed dismay over being forced to wear any head covering, which evoked an Orthodox upbringing they had left. Boys resisted wearing kippot, arguing for equality since girls did not have to wear them. Girls resisted wearing kippot because they messed up their hair and were uncomfortable on top of barrettes and ponytails.

Congregational controversy was brewing. In partnership with my religious, adult education, and religious school committees, we decided on a period of congregational halakhic study beginning in the religious committee. David Fine’s 2002 teshuvah, establishing women’s equal obligation to minyan, was silent on the questions of women’s religious obligation to wear head coverings and tallitot.5 I created a detailed source sheet listing halakhic questions and rabbinic sources regarding women wearing head coverings and tallitot, as well as men covering their heads when praying, ascending the bimah, or engaging in other activities such as touching, reading, and studying holy texts. These sources examined personal piety, the sanctity of sacred spaces, the evolving rabbinic approach to men wearing head coverings and tallitot, women’s obligation to mitzvot, and what equality and egalitarianism mean. A thoughtful conversation identified options and outlined a tentative consensus plan based on the sources I had reviewed and our congregation’s commitments to egalitarianism and inclusion. We also devised a plan to maximize congregational input: I would write a newsletter article outlining the issues, invite feedback, and announce a schedule of study sessions that I would lead during several Shabbat services.

The sanctuary was packed for the study sessions, including a notable presence from the religious committee and board members. I explored relevant rabbinic sources that might inform our decision making, invited congregants to share their comments and questions on the sources and religious committee suggestions, and reiterated our shared Jewish and congregational values of inclusion, respect for differences of opinion, and commitment to abide by communal decisions. When possible, I prefer helping individuals make informed decisions between appropriate halakhic options rather than imposing a single way of doing things. Congregants were encouraged to speak with me and religious committee members in advance of the committee’s next meeting. In the interim, conversations took place over Kiddushes and as parents waited for their children after school. I often heard laughter as people shared their experiences with head coverings while growing up. In the interim, I taught a condensed version of the halakhic material to our b’nei mitsvah class. Girls were excited to learn that head coverings need only be as wide as the distance across one’s knuckles, allowing them to wear the wide headbands they liked.

When the religious committee reconvened, we clarified our halakhic bottom lines, considering congregant feedback and movement policies that officially included women’s equal obligation to minyan. A final policy was agreed upon, based on the initial draft proposal: head coverings would be required for all males, everyone ascending the bimah, and everyone wearing a tallit. Both head coverings and tallitot would be necessary for all Torah honors. Women sitting in the congregation would only be required to cover their heads when wearing a tallit. Given the parent and student uproar over kippot, we developed a compromise policy that reaffirmed the requirement for boys to wear kippot in synagogue and during religious school and Junior Congregation, adding the requirement for girls leading prayers or ascending the bimah to wear an appropriate head covering such as a kippah, lace “chapel cap,” wide headband, or nice hat. (All students were prohibited from wearing baseball caps during school and congregational services.) For female congregants, life cycle honorees, and guests uncomfortable wearing a tallit, we identified honors for which we would not require women to wear a tallit, such as ark openings and reciting the English Prayer for the Country.

The decision was communicated through congregational newsletters, b’nei mitsvah family workshops, and individual conversations to enthusiastic approval throughout the congregation. Sisterhood began selling feminine kippot. One congregant’s mother created handmade lace tallitot for female simḥah guests, a touch that families deeply appreciated. One teacher annually delighted sixth-grade pre-b’nei mitsvah students with kippot hand-calligraphed with their Hebrew names. Her choice of blue for boys and pink for girls, while too gender-specific to some adults, effectively engaged girls in proudly wearing their kippot in class and at synagogue. As time passed, more women and girls began to wear kippot and tallitot. Those who chose not to wear a head covering or tallit continued to feel welcome and included, reinforcing our congregational and Jewish values of hakhnasat orḥim (welcoming), kavod (mutual respect), and klal Yisraʾel, recognizing the unity of the Jewish people.

Informing Public Policy Debate By Teaching Halakhah:
Jewish Views of Abortion

How Jewish law and values guide our perspective on and participation in the political and social issues of our times and the larger communities in which we live has always been part of halakhic consideration. The obligation to obey the law of the land in which we live (dina demalkhuta dina, “the law of the sovereign government is the law”) has been a halakhic principle underlying individual and collective Jewish interactions with non-Jewish governments and their law for almost two millennia. This concept remains relevant to halakhic considerations and is reflected in several CJLS teshuvot addressing issues related to navigating tensions between secular law and halakhah.6

Being required to obey the law of the land does not mean we cannot have or express an opinion about it. In a secular, democratic society, Jewish legal and ethical imperatives ideally guide our views on contemporary issues and inspire our active involvement and advocacy. For millennia, rabbis have sought to educate their congregants and the broader community about Jewish values and halakhah relevant to contemporary concerns. Such teaching serves the best traditions of our prophets of old and our more recent inspirational models, among them Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, professor of Jewish ethics and mysticism at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America from 1945 until his death in 1972.

The 1973 Supreme Court decision establishing a federally protected right to abortion (Roe v. Wade) effectively allowed members of the Jewish community to follow our religious dictates.7 By the end of the 1980s, the CJLS had already examined many of the fundamental halakhic questions related to abortion and determined that it was permitted to protect the life and health, including the mental health, of the mother.8 Over the following decades, antichoice advocates around the nation sought to limit legal abortion access through intimidation, attacks on abortion providers (often Jewish doctors), and passing restrictive regulations on abortion clinics. They also sought to outlaw specific medically preferred procedures that complicated the Jewish community’s access to halakhically acceptable, and sometimes religiously required, health care.

The subject of abortion remained in the news, and my congregants and our larger Jewish community wanted to know where Judaism stood on these issues. Over decades, through sermons, my recurring Friday night series “The Jewish View” on Jewish beliefs and ethics, community lectures, addresses at our regional Women’s League gatherings, and opinion pieces written for local Jewish newspapers and those around the country, I shared what halakhah teaches about abortion as widely as possible in order to counter the misinformation being spread by those opposed to all forms of abortion.

I had written the 2003 CJLS teshuvah “‘Partial Birth Abortion’ and When Life Begins” in response to a 2001 teshuvah penned by Rabbi Avram Reisner, my friend and colleague, with whom I disagreed on the permissibility of one specific abortion procedure.9 Following the 2022 Supreme Court decision to overturn Roe v. Wade and thereby eliminate the federal right of women to have an abortion, the Conservative Movement website, Exploring Judaism, cited our two teshuvot in a short post as the most recent relevant CJLS abortion decisions.10 The juxtaposition of our two teshuvot implied to the casual reader that Masorti Judaism held different views on abortion, when Rabbi Reisner and I agreed on everything except when to justify the use of one procedure, which was already made illegal before Roe v. Wade was overturned.11 Rabbi Reisner, CJLS leadership, and the Exploring Judaism staff agreed with me that there was a timely need to communicate accurately and expeditiously our Movement’s consistent and unified halakhic position on abortion. Rabbi Reisner and I expeditiously coauthored a teshuvah summarizing the most salient points of our Movement’s unified halakhic stance on abortion, which was quickly and unanimously approved by the CJLS.12 Based on that teshuvah, we penned an article for Exploring Judaism, making available an accessible summary of the Jewish beliefs and halakhah underpinning our Movement’s views on abortion, including a list of the classic CJLS decisions on the relevant issues.13

I have continued to teach our halakhic approach to Jewish views of abortion during lectures and Shabbat talks in my synagogue and community, often sharing the exploringjudaism.org link to the article Rabbi Reisner and I wrote. Individuals express their appreciation for the opportunity to explore the issues in more depth than a brief Sabbath talk allows, as well as for the convenience of being able to revisit our online material as needed. The feedback emphasized to me the importance of building our Movement’s public digital footprint, especially regarding the teaching of our unique halakhic perspectives on contemporary issues of public concern affecting the Jewish community.

Spreading Our Teaching of Halakhah

Our greatest challenge recently, as a Movement, has been to effectively communicate the meaningful and groundbreaking work we do and all that we offer spiritually, intellectually, and halakhically to Jewish life, learning, and conversation. The advent of search engines and artificial intelligence (AI) has made it even more challenging for us to have our message heard. The website exploringjudaism.org is an impressive United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism/Rabbinical Assembly collaborative effort, marking the first step in bringing Conservative/Masorti Judaism to the digitally fluent masses. The site features attractively laid out articles and a section highlighting some CJLS teshuvot. Unfortunately, the site is not well publicized, even by our Movement organizations and congregations. Simple fixes could involve encouraging congregations and Movement organizations to add exploringjudaism.org to their websites and include it in their electronically distributed newsletters and weekly event schedules.

Even more remains to be done to strengthen our digital footprint. To give just one example, a Google search for “Jewish views of abortion” brought up, in order of presentation, sources from My Jewish Learning, National Council of Jewish Women (NCJW), Brandeis, and Wikipedia. The only Conservative Movement source on the first page of the search was a link to a PDF of David Feldman’s 1983 CJLS teshuvah on abortion. No mention appears of any of our more recent teshuvot or the article Rabbi Reisner and I authored for Exploring Judaism, “What Does Judaism Say about Abortion?,” based on our most recent CJLS teshuvah.

For all our advances in transferring CJLS teshuvot onto the Internet, which was no mean feat, we need to up our digital game. Even the significant step forward of a searchable CJLS teshuvot database is inconsistent in its responsiveness. My test search of various spellings of the rabbinic dictum, dina demalkhuta dina (“the law of the land is the law”) yielded zero hits until I searched only for dina. Initially, eight links appeared, including two teshuvot that utilized the term I sought. My second attempt was worse, offering hundreds of links, too many to find what I sought quickly and easily. A different search of the word “homosexuality” failed to include the landmark 2006 teshuvah permitting same sex relations by Rabbis Dorff, Nevins, and Reisner, discussed above.14

Creating an accessible resource bank is another way to spread our unique Masorti approach to halakhah, albeit on a more local level. The process of writing a CJLS teshuvah is time-consuming, especially when dealing with a complex subject that has a long history of halakhic discussion. CJLS members often devote significant amounts of their limited free time to researching and writing compelling, comprehensive, and cogent teshuvot. It has long been a CJLS desideratum that authors would create resource sheets of their sources for teaching purposes. We have gotten better at meeting that goal. But I have been as guilty as others in not creating such sheets. I did not have time to cut, paste, and reformat the multilanguage sources I cited, particularly before the advent of Sefaria (sefaria.org). Congregational rabbis are also incredibly busy and often find it challenging to find the time to research and create attractive, succinct congregational study materials for all the halakhic topics they might wish to explore with their congregants.

I am always impressed with Sefaria. Its search engine adroitly finds whatever I am looking for: primary biblical and rabbinic texts, ancient and modern commentaries, and teaching resources. I am sure there are many Conservative/Masorti rabbis like me who have relied on its materials. Over the years, many of us have also developed teaching materials and source sheets on various halakhic topics for congregational programs. We could begin to address the lacuna of Conservative/Masorti halakhic study materials by encouraging colleagues to contribute their study sheets for posting with proper credit and providing the technical support to load and maintain them on Exploring Judaism and/or the RA’s CJLS site, linked and cross-referenced to relevant teshuvot and easily searchable through a refined and updated CJLS teshuvah database search engine.

Marketing experts recognize that an organization’s digital footprint and Internet search placement are crucial to its growth. It is undoubtedly essential to effectively communicate our unique message to those who are potentially open to and attracted by our halakhic approach. Such work helps build our movement, spreads our unique message, and strengthens our future. Limited financial resources need not be an obstacle. A national or international effort to assemble a top-level team of tech-savvy lay volunteers can leverage the connections of thousands of Conservative/Masorti rabbis and lay leaders to identify individuals who are excited about the potential opportunities of such an effort and are willing to volunteer their time and expertise. Challenges abound in getting our message out, but as Jews, we have a long history of finding creative ways to respond to almost any challenge.

Leaning Into Studying Halakhah as a Congregational Life Choice

I was honored and blessed to serve on the CJLS for so many decades and be embraced by two congregations whose members believed that the work I did there was important enough to lean in to share that halakhic journey with me. A rabbi need not serve on the CJLS in order to inspire their congregation in halakhic study, or to respond to appeals from congregational leaders willing to embark on that journey of Jewish exploration and growth. There are many ways in which rabbis and lay leaders can partner to encourage a congregational culture of asking questions and offering opportunities to develop a personal stake in halakhic study as a guide for navigating both congregational and personal life challenges. Complicated moral questions, hot topics of communal concern, and current events all offer opportunities to teach and learn halakhah. Prioritizing the questions, interests, and concerns of congregants encourages congregational investment in the effort required for halakhic study, even if that effort is limited to attending a class or lecture. Creating opportunities to elicit questions can nurture a congregational culture in which asking questions becomes second nature, feeding a desire to discover our movement’s timely answers to those questions and others. Finally, engaging in the teaching and communal learning of halakhah from a Conservative/Masorti perspective can foster a depth of reflection and consideration that helps us all become better individuals, better Jews, and a better people, contributing to the building of a kinder, better world.

Rabbi Susan Grossman served on the Committee of Jewish Law and Standards from 1992 to 2022. She was a member of the first class of women to enter the rabbinical school of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America, from which she also earned her Doctorate in Hebrew Literature in Ancient Judaism. She is an editor of the Etz Hayim Torah and Commentary and Daughters of the King: Women and the Synagogue.

  1. 1 On piquaḥ nefesh, see, e.g., the COVID-era teshuvah on the controversial issues relating to public safety by Elliot N. Dorff and Susan Grossman, “Wearing Face Covering, Physical Distancing, and Other Measures to Control the COVID-19 Pandemic,” HM 427:8.2121B, Rabbinical Assembly, CJLS, February 1, 2021. On betselem Elohim, see the landmark teshuvah by Elliot N. Dorff, Daniel S. Nevins, and Avram I. Reisner, “Homosexuality, Human Dignity, and Halakhah: A Combined Responsum for the Committee on Jewish Law and Standards. Rabbinical Assembly, CJLS, EH 24.2006b.

  2. 2 For the approval, see Amy Levin and Avram Reisner, “A Teshuvah Permitting Ashkenazim to Eat Kitniyot on Pesah,” CJLS OH 453:1.2015b.

  3. 3 Dorff, Nevins, and Reisner, “Homosexuality, Human Dignity, and Halakhah,” op. cit. n. 1.

  4. 4 For an interesting exploration of the tension between majority rule and individual conscience in the story, see Mark D. Friedman, “The Tragedy of Rabbi Eliezer,” in Come Now, Let Us Reason Together: Uncovering the Torah’s Liberal Values (Wipf and Stock, 2024):147–61.

  5. 5 David J. Fine, “Women and the Minyan,” CJLS OH 55:1.2002. In 2019, CJLS passed the teshuvah by Jane Karanek, “Women and Head Covering,” CJLS OH 91:3.2019.

  6. 6 Talmudic references to dina demalkhuta dina include b. Nedarim 28a (about taxes), b. Gittin 10b (about validating secular court documents for gift transfers), b. Bava Qamma 113b (about government confiscation of privately owned resources like trees for wood used in public works), and b. Bava Batra 54b–55a (establishing land ownership recognizing government regulations, including for confiscation of land). Various CJLS teshuvot discuss dina demalkhuta dina; see, e.g., Susan Grossman and Avram Reisner, “Understanding Jewish Views of Abortion: An Overview,” CJLS HM 425:2.2023 and Jeremy Kalmanofsky, “Participating in the American Death Penalty,” CJLS HM 2.1.2013.

  7. 7 Roe v. Wade, 410 U.S.113 (1973).

  8. 8 For the most recent summary of the Conservative Movement’s positions on abortion, see Susan Grossman and Avram Reisner, “Understanding Jewish Views.” op. cit. n. 6. It includes a comprehensive list of Movement teshuvot, official statements, and resolutions up to the passage of their teshuvah. For an accessible list and links to the classic 1980s CJLS teshuvot on abortion, see Susan Grossman and Avram Reisner, “What Does Judaism Say About Abortion,” Exploring Judaism, https://www.exploringjudaism.org/living/health/what-does-judaism-say-about-abortion/.

  9. 9 Susan Grossman, “‘Partial Birth Abortion’ and When Human Life Begins,” CJLS HM425:2:2003b. See also Avram Reisner, “Ein Dohin Nefesh Mipnei Nefesh,” CJLS HM425:2:2001a.

  10. 10 Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization 597 U.S. 215 (2022).

  11. 11 Partial-Birth Abortion Ban Act of 2003 Public Law No: 108-105 (November 5, 2003) affirmed by the Supreme Court in Gonzales v Carhart 550 U.S. 124 (2007).

  12. 12 See note 8.

  13. 13 See note 8.

  14. 14 See note 1.