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"The literary history of the Jews reflects the history of the Jewish people themselves... For the Jews, writing is not only a form of religious expression but also a means - perhaps the most potent means - of passing on a cultural heritage from one generation to the next."

Sharon R. Keller
The Jews: A Treasury of Art and Literature

Long heralded as "the people of the book," Jews have always held text and its study as the cornerstone of our religion. The first covenant ever made between Bnei Yisrael and God was recorded and read aloud following revelation at Mount Sinai. Then, too, the Decalogue itself was engraved shortly after its proclamation, and from that point onward the tablets were guarded as the holiest item in our nation's possession. This fundamental value of writing forms the basis of a faith whose oral traditions are supported, if not defined, by written ones¹, whose adherents hold Torah study as a way to serve God. This journal represents the efforts of Midreshet Lindenbaum students, each of whom shares this value to the extent that she spends her entire day engaged in the study of both modern and ancient Jewish texts, thereby furthering her understanding of and love for Judaism.

It would seem, then, only natural for such students to wish to add to that corpus their own creations, continuing the tradition they hold so dear. Yet there is a fundamental difference between the writings studied and those recorded herein: while the latter are articles composed by young women, the former are almost entirely the works of men. The importance of this distinction is not immediately apparent, for the books traditionally studied in a yeshiva are quintessential sources for all Jews, regardless of the sex of their author. But that factor determines a tremendous amount about a work. Carol Gilligan, in her thesis A Different Voice, has described at length the very basic differences which exist between male and female modes of expression. While her specific conclusions are not important to this discussion, her premise is, for it reveals that the modern proliferation of religious works by women can contribute a unique perspective which is largely absent from the definitive works of our religion, without detracting from their holiness and eternal value.

Yet while modern women such as the contributors to this journal are busily writing on Jewish topics, intentionally or unintentionally introducing the female voice to the choir, they may be unaware of the many authoresses who have preceded them, and the extent to which the feminine viewpoint actually is present in those traditional works. While there has never been an era in which as many women were as learned and as scholarly as ours, throughout history women have written a plethora of works, from letters to prayers to halachic rulings. Though their works have survived as hidden treasures rather than as perpetually-studied texts, this fact should not undermine their value.

And so it seems only fitting that a modern collection of Jewish women's writings should open with a tribute to those which preceded it. The meager amount of these works is a result of both social and historical factors: while few works were written by women in the first five thousand or so years of Jewish history, even fewer have survived. Yet those which have ought be remembered in a journal such as this, so that we may begin by restoring the female voice to a tradition which often seems to have forgotten it, and then proceed to add our own voices to them. The following will be an overview of the writings of Jewish women from the time of the Bible until the early 20th century, at which point such works become numerous and thus, while just as valuable, less interesting to our purposes. All the works discussed were chosen based on their religious nature as well as their obscurity, the goal being to raise the reader's awareness of how much women have already contributed to the corpus of Jewish works. No such history of Jewish women's writings has ever been recorded², and while this is far from a complete chronicle, it is hoped that this article will help place those which follow as well as those of all modern Jewish women authors in the context of their mothers' efforts before them. It is further hoped that such a history will remind those upset by the apparent exclusion of women from the halachic process and literary achievements of generations past that the feminine voice has always been a part of religious works, it is only our ears which have been unable to hear it.

Any chronicle of Jewish writings must begin with the ultimate Jewish source: the Bible. Even modern Biblical critics who have written of the overtly patriarchal nature of the text cannot deny the women's voices which speak so strongly within the text. The very recording of their words is itself a kind of authorship, a validation of the importance of the female intellect. Indeed, God Himself instructs Abraham as follows:

In all that Sarah has said to thee, hearken to her voice; for in Yizhaq shall thy seed be called. (Genesis 21:12)

Be it as it may that Sarah's importance is defined here only in relation to her son, she is nonetheless regarded as the authority in this case, and her words are given a divinely-mandated power, literally setting the tone for the words of her female descendants to follow.

Female expression in the Bible extends well beyond the scope of simple conversation. Entire compositions are recorded as tradition says their female authors actually wrote them. The Song of Deborah, written following the military victory of the Israelites over Sisera and his army (Judges 4-5), is among the most eloquent praises of God to be found in the Tanach. Then, too, Hannah's prayer upon giving birth to her first child as recorded in the book of Samuel (Samuel I 2), is often cited as the basis for Jewish liturgy. Her moving words of faith in the Almighty set the standard for future generations, and the weight of her prayers in heaven has been attested to by such great Jewish leaders as the Ba'al Shem Tov.

In addition to women's words which were recorded by others, there are two cases in the Bible of women writing documents themselves. The first is Jezebel (Kings I 21), who wrote letters for her husband Ahab, king of Samaria, which proclaimed a fast and choreographed the execution of Naboth, whose vineyards she wished to procure for herself and her husband. While hardly a worthy cause, her correspondence is the first record of a woman actually composing a written document, and so is pertinent to our discussion. The second Biblical precedent for female authorship is Queen Esther, who likewise composed letters of proclamation, hers in support of a previous declaration issued by Mordechai (Esther 9:29). It is interesting to note that in this case, the writing of a woman was required to validate that of a man. Whereas Jezebel wrote "in the name of her husband Ahab", and thus relied on her husband in order to empower her own words, Mordechai needed Esther's decree to enforce his own. Thus the Bible, our holiest book, provides the foundation for a rich history of women's authorship and its authority.

This message is further supported by a variety of stories and discussions found in the Talmud. Mishnah and Gemara are generally regarded as male works, and for good reason: not only were their compilers male, but also nearly all of the personalities described therein. Then, too, until recently, only men were allowed to study these works, with the exception of women lucky enough to be the daughters or wives of learned, liberal-minded men. Yet even within these male-centric texts respected female voices can be heard. As in the Bible, these voices were not recorded by the women themselves, but they are nonetheless valuable as documented female expression.

The most obvious example is Beruriah, perhaps the most learned and well-known woman in the Talmud. Wife of Rabbi Meir and daughter of Rabbi Hanina ben Teradyon, she learned Torah from both her father and husband, and soon became an authority in her own right. Her halachic opinions have been quoted twice in the Mishnah, alongside those of the other Tannaim. In the Gemara, various allegories are told about her sharp wit and Torah scholarship, as well as her more feminine characteristics such as her compassion and emotional sensibilities. In Pesachim 62b, she is recorded as correcting the Talmudic statement that "women are lightheaded" to read "except for Beruriah," which, while far from a feminist stand, leaves room within the halachic framework for the female voice, assuming the woman in question is well-versed in the sources. Above and beyond her contributions as recorded in the Talmud, she was also the author of several other literary works.

Other notable female voices in the Talmud include Ima Shalom, Yalta, and Rachel³. Both Ima Shalom, wife of Rabbi Eliezer ben Horkanos, and Yalta, wife of Rabbi Nachman bar Yakov, were known for their learning and advanced Torah analyses, some of which are even quoted in the Talmud. The story of Rachel, who gave up everything to support the Torah study of her husband Rabbi Akiva, is an example of a different type of Talmudic heroine. It was her words, as recorded in the Gemara, which convinced the not-yet-Rabbi Akiva to begin learning, thus the feminine voice as a force for Torah study, if not a source of it.

Proceeding chronologically from Talmudic times to the times of the Rishonim, around the tenth century, we again find women's voices in writings where one would not expect to find them. Though Jewish education for boys was well developed by this time, women were still denied formal schooling, and only those with great rabbis in their families could achieve notable levels of knowledge. From among this select group, an even smaller number of women actually wrote anything, for writing was generally perceived as the man's domain. However, several exceptional women persisted in their efforts, composing a variety of halachic and literary works, both on their own and disguised as the works of their fathers and husbands.

One interesting example of the latter form of publication is the story of Rashi and his daughters. While many know of Rashi's liberal attitude towards his daughters' donning of tefillin, few may have heard that towards the end of his life, as Rashi grew ill, his daughters actually wrote many of his halachic responsa for him. As a battle wages on today over the issue of whether or not women can give halachic psak, this historical precedent is certainly worth considering.

Meanwhile, other learned Jewish women of the time were unabashedly writing works under their own names. Dulcie, the respected wife of Rabbi Eleazar of Worms, was known as a religious poetess. In addition, she would give public lectures on Shabbat, and in this way supported her family. She died in 1215, murdered by two Christian Knights of the Cross. Then, too, there were women copyists like Paola, the granddaughter of Rabbi Nathan ben Yehiel (1035-1110), who transcribed Biblical commentaries that may still be read today in Breslau archives. While transcription is hardly a form of original expression, it does attest to a level of scholarship achieved by women of this time, as well as the apparent social acceptance of women writing. Further evidence of this can be found in letters composed by women of this period which survived in the Cairo Genizah. Many of these letters are written in elegant Hebrew and reference various Biblical stories even as they speak of everyday affairs. For example, one letter written by Lady Maliha to her family in Egypt, opens with the following wish:

"May peace from Heaven...be bestowed upon you...and a long life like his who became father of the people, or his who was bound as a victim on a high mountain, or of Jacob, the plain man, or of him who sprinkled blood on the altar seven times."

Maliha's words attest to her knowledge of the stories of the patriarchs and Aaron the high priest. Thus many women at this stage were well-educated and had begun to write on a variety of topics, though none had yet published a halachic work under her own name.

During the Middle Ages, many more women began to write everything from memoirs to epics to halachic teshuvot.. The causes of this increase in authorship are numerous. The first major reason we have more literature from women of this period is simply historical: the more recent the era, the more documents will remain in our possession. Second, technological advances meant that writing implements and surfaces were more accessible. Third and most importantly, by the fourteenth century, women's education had begun to improve dramatically. In the secular world, particularly Renaissance Italy, all kinds of educational opportunities were opening for interested ladies. The trend spread to the Jewish world, and in 1475, a group of Italian Jewish women began to operate a Talmud Torah for girls in Rome. Literacy was increasing as well, and while many women still could not understand Hebrew, various Yiddish novels and mussar books were published for their benefit. This development allowed for the cultivation of a larger literary appreciation among women who might otherwise not have opened a book at all. In the synagogue, where women had trouble reading and comprehending the Hebrew prayers, a tradition began of appointing a zogerke, a woman who would help lead the others through the service. Additionally, in the seventeenth century, Jewish men and women began to compose tkhines, or Yiddish prayers, written for women who felt too isolated by the Hebrew prayers they could not understand. The increasing communal commitment to women's education, literacy, and inclusion in ritual allowed for a dramatic increase in female authorship.

Jewish women during this era began their own Renaissance of verse, composing prayers and poems much as their ancestors had in the Bible. Deborah Ascorelli composed "masterful Italian verse," while Rebecca Tiktiner wrote German poetry and an entire lyrical epic, Simhat Torah Lied. Towards the end of the Renaissance era, women began to write tkhines for other women. Unlike the traditional liturgy, these touching prayers appealed to various matriarchs to intercede with God on the behalf of those supplicating. The tkhines written by Sarah Rebecca Rachel Leah Horowitz, a woman noted for her talmudic learning, demonstrate the author's familiarity with both Bible and midrash. The "most beloved of all tkhines," Shloshah Shearim, is based on various teachings in the Zohar and was written by Sarah Bas Tovim, a woman knowledgeable in Kabbalah. The prayer appeals to such traditional heroines as Esther, Yocheved, Miriam, and Devora, and deals with rituals particular to women, including the separation of the challah, niddah, the lighting of the Sabbath candles, and special women's celebrations of the new moon.

There were also women producing more scholarly religious works during this era. A group of women, known as the "Lady Rabbinists", excelled so greatly in their learning that they were quoted as Rabbinic authorities by other rabbis. For example, in his responsa, Rabbi Shimon Duran (1361-1444), quotes an explanation of a passage from the Talmud given by the wife of Rabbi Yosef ibn Yochanan. Yet few of these women, though incredibly learned, published works of their own which have survived to this day⁴. On remarkable exception was Rebecca Tiktiner, mentioned above for her poetic achievements, who was also famous as a teacher of Gemara, midrash, and ethics. Her book Maineket Rivka, first published in Prague in 1609, is a collection of her Sabbath sermons as well as responsa on various women's halachic issues, all interspersed with halacha, ethics, Talmud, and midrash. Like Rashi's daughters, she presents an interesting precedent for modern women who wish to be halachic advisors to other women on various issues.

Other learned women were responsible for the publication of a wide variety of important religious documents, though the works were not their own. Many served informally as their husbands' personal scribes or copiers, while others, especially Italian women well-schooled in calligraphy, were engaged as official scribes of biblical and liturgical pieces. Towards the end of the period, as the hand gave way to the printing press, women assumed the role of printer as well, with Reyna, the Duchess of Naxos, becoming the first Jewish woman to open a printing press in 1569. In the seventeenth century, Gittel of Prague printed Hebrew grammar books, while Tcharnah of Cracow typeset a supercommentary on Rashi. This trend continued well into the next centuries, with Gella printing a version of the Talmud and a siddur including her own prayer at the end. Perhaps the crowning achievement of these early female printers was that of the widow of the printer David Romm, who managed the press following her husband's death and was responsible for, among other things, the printing of the Vilna Shas (c.1880).

Also survived from this era are a variety of personal writings by Jewish women. The memoirs of Gluckel of Hameln (1646-1724) are the only known full-length memoirs written by a Jewish woman before the nineteenth century. She was a German-Jewish merchant who chronicled her life from early childhood until death. Though in her opening address to her children she claims that "this, dear children, will be no book of morals," she nevertheless proceeds to offer all kinds of religious stories and ethical messages, even including some of her personal prayers to God, apparently hoping to transmit her faith to her sons and daughter, or at the very least to influence their conduct:

"We have only our holy Torah in which we may find and learn all that we need...The kernel of the Torah is thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself...The best thing for you is to serve God from your heart...Moreover, put aside a fixed time for the study of Torah, as best you know how."

Other personal documents of Jewish women from this period are written in a similarly religious manner. Rachel, the widow of Rabbi Eliezer Susman Ashkenazi, wrote a Yiddish letter to her son Moses in Cairo expressing her concern for his welfare. Her very religious language attests to a deep faith in God, her "Rock and Redeemer." Then, too, is the letter from Henele, daughter of Abraham Halevi Heller, to her sister Bona and brother-in-law Wolf Auerbach, written in 1619. Not only is her language generally religious, but she also quotes directly from Psalms 45:14, addressing her sister as "the king's daughter all glorious within." Finally, the letters of Sara Coppia Sullam provide us with a fascinating picture of one of the most talented women in Venice during this time. Besides her singing, playing of the lute and harpsichord, and renowned poetry-writing, she was known as a scholar in both Jewish and secular culture. She spoke Hebrew, Latin, and Greek, and was well-schooled in Greek philosophy. Gentile and Jew alike would gather in her home for discussions. Though others tried to convert her to Catholicism, she always retained her deep faith in Judaism. At one point, Bishop Bonifaccio of Capodistria wrote a treatise on the immortality of the soul and "dedicated" it to Sara with the accusation that she did not believe in the subject of his work. The letter she wrote in response is a most masterfully scalding piece, in which she refers to sources as varied as Joseph Flavius, Matthew, Aristotle, Dante, and the Bible in order to prove many of the Bishop's arguments flawed and ignorant. At the same time, however, she is adamant about her own belief in the immortality of the soul, just not as proven by Bonifaccio. Her letter reveals that the bishop was no match for her intellect and textual mastery, and while she felt it crucial to clear her name of his religious charge, in writing the humbling letter she surely saved herself from any further such accusations. Sara is the quintessential example of the Renaissance-era woman taking advantage of the educational opportunities open to her and expressing her ideas both verbally and on paper.

The eighteenth and nineteenth centuries saw the rise of the Enlightenment, and with it an exponential increase in the number of Jewish female authors. Secular education for girls became more and more widespread, with the opening of schools all over Germany and Galicia at the turn of the 19th century. "Salon Jewesses," Jewish women well-schooled in secular subjects, would host great minds at their homes for political and philosophical discussions. Yet the imbalance of their achievements in secular society with their enduring exclusion from the world of Jewish studies led many such women to assimilation. Dorothea, the daughter of Moses Mendelssohn, and Henriette de Lemos Herz, both of prominent Jewish families, left the faith for Catholicism and Protestantism, disillusioned with, as Henriette put it, the manner in which Jewish girls "were not at all really instructed in the faith of their parents, but were constrained to observe its forms." This problem was not really rectified until the establishment of the Bais Yakov movement by Sara Schnirer in 1918, by which point many intelligent women had already strayed from Judaism.

It was also during this time period that Hasidism began to develop. Within the Hasidic community, women were more included in Judaism than they were in the larger Jewish community. They could attain the status of a tzaddikah, or righteous woman, who, like Odel, the daughter of the Ba'al Shem Tov, could even have her own following of Hasidim. Merish, another Tzadikkah, was famed for her scholarship, and Hasidim would come to her for blessings. Frieda, the daughter of the Ba'al Tanya, was so learned that she even wrote her own manuscripts filled with her insights on Torah and Hasidism, and these she would teach to her brother Reb David. Many other Hasidic women participated in that sect's greatest art: story-writing. Sarale, the daughter of Reb Joshua Heshel Teumim Frankel, and Hannah Hava were both famous for the parables and aphorisms they composed. Thus while their Mitnagdic sisters were frustratedly straying from Judaism, Hasidic women were, for the most part, participating actively in a variety of aspects of Jewish life.

Those Mitnagdot who decided to remain within Judaism did, however, produce some remarkable writings. To begin with were the poetesses of the era. Rachel Luzzato Morpurgo (1790-1871), the first woman to write and publish modern Hebrew poetry, primarily wrote secular works, though she educated herself in such religious subjects as mysticism, Tanach, and the commentaries of Rashi. A few of her poems reflect her faith, thanking God for all the good He gave her, praising Him for his works. Emma Lazarus was a similarly secular poetess, many of whose works also included religious themes. She spent much of her life feeling estranged from traditional Judaism and its ritual, but had a strong sense of some larger form of national identity. In her poem "An Epistle to the Hebrews", she stresses the need for all Jews to look out for each other and recognize our unity, even making reference to the way the Jews united during the era of the prophet Ezra. Yet even more important than her religious messages was the example she set as a prominent figure in the larger literary world. Her poetry was featured on the Statue of Liberty as a message of hope to all, particularly other aspiring female Jewish writers. A poetess whose works had a more obvious religious connection was Rebekah Gumpert Hyneman (1812-1875), who wrote an entire series of poems entitled "Female Scriptural Characters," each of which made a heroine of a different Biblical character.

Women of this time period were also earnestly engaged in composing the most religious form of poetry: prayer. In 1842, Penina Moise wrote Hymns Written for the Use of Hebrew Congregations, the first American Jewish hymnal. She was also a famous poetess and in time became the poetess laureate of Charleston. At around the same time, Fanny Neuda wrote Studen der Andacht, or hours of devotion, a collection of more than fifty prayers for Jewish women for all parts of their lives. One interesting prayer is to be recited following childbirth, thanking God "who hast safely led me through the dangers of the hours of delivery." In Jerusalem, the learned Liphali composed Supplications From The Holy City of Jerusalem, another collection of women’s prayers. Much like the tekhines, which had begun to be written two centuries earlier, all of these new prayers allowed women to pray for things relating specifically to their lives, in a language they could understand.

Perhaps the most interesting genre of literature to emerge from this period is that of the religious treatise, written by Jewish women from all walks of life. The most famous such authoress is probably Grace Aguilar (1816-1847), a London-born Jew given a secular and religious education by her parents. She valued Torah study greatly, and in her book Women of Israel urged other Jewish women to study as well, so that they could learn first-hand about how central women actually are to Judaism. Her most theologically-influential work, The Spirit of Judaism, presents her understanding of Jewish values and teachings, prayer and its transmission to our children paramount among them. A second book entitled The Spirit of Judaism, also a treatise, was published in 1895 by Josephine Lazarus. The provocative title was meant to invite comparison to that earlier work, though this one focused not on a Jew's personal connection to God, but rather on the idea of a universal Judaism that would join liberal Jews and Christians together by way of their common faith in God. Her work shows how far women's writings had come by this point. Not only were women expressing original religious ideas, they were also beginning a dialogue among themselves, challenging the ideas of other female writers. Additionally, they had begun to develop a sense of the importance of their works as representations of the long-quieted female voice. In 1912 at the Jewish Women's Congress in Munich, writer Bertha Pappenheim expressed this sense of frustration at how one-sided religious literature was during her time in her address entitled "The Jewish Woman in Religious Life":

"We Jewish women must take, unquestioningly, praise and blame, admiration and condemnation of the sex, as we get it scattered through the vast masses of literature, through the spectacles of male scholars, who read into Jewish literature their own personal opinion and personal experience."

Pappenheim's words set the feminist tone for many of the works by Jewish women to be written over the course of the twentieth century. An entire genre of books on women and Judaism would develop, books written by men and women, of all denominations of Judaism. Female authors would begin to write new homeletical interpretations exploring the view of female Biblical characters, and to publish works on new Jewish rituals for the twentieth century ⁵. The female biblical scholar is no longer a novelty, and her exegeses, like those of Nehama Leibowitz, z”l, are studied in many Orthodox circles. Most recently, a collection of Jewish women writing on halachic issues was published, following in the tradition of Bruria, Rashi's daughters, and scores of other women whose opinions on various aspects of Jewish law have been disseminated among the Jewish people.

The twentieth century has been a tremendously productive era as far as Jewish women's writings, too productive to document herein. However, let it be said that the modern proliferation of such writings attests to a desire among modern women to participate in one of the most fundamental aspects of Judaism: the sharing of religious works and ideas. The concept of a balance between the masculine and feminine voices in our religious processes is gaining more acceptance as we realize how much women writers have to offer our religion. And even as we move forward, we need look back to recall the writers whose lead we follow, whose early footsteps made the ground softer for us all.

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