Chava Levin loves South Florida as much as any other
spirited 18-year-old.
But there's no flirting or drinking contests for her. No baring her navel or
flaunting a bikini on the beach.
Her idea of fun: Debating Jewish law. Digesting ancient texts. Helping out at
Hanukkah festivals.
"Go to the beach? Mutate my DNA?" the dark-haired Connecticut native
said with a bright smile. "I'm developing disciplines for life. Not
vegging."
You can hear much the same from her two dozen friends, all 17 and 18 - from
France, Australia, Canada, England and around South Florida - who make up the
first class at Chaya Aydel Seminary. Its founders say it is South Florida's
first residential yeshiva, or postsecondary religious school, for women.
"This gives me a feeling of accomplishment, doing something with
myself," said Devorah Sebbag, 17, of Montreal. "Not wasting time
doing useless things."
Just as celebrants of Hanukkah, also known as the Festival of Lights, aim to
push back darkness with candlelight, the girls at the Hallandale Beach seminary
aim to spread the light of knowledge. After all, Hanukkah has the same root
word as chinuch, Hebrew for education.
For now, they'll spread that "light" to other Jews in South Florida;
someday, to their own children.
"The first teachers are the mothers," said Rabbi Yossi Lebovics,
principal of the school started this year by the Lubavitch-aligned Broward Chai
Center. "These girls will be raising the next generation. They'll need
teaching skills."
The girls' school is yet another project for Lubavitch, the largest and most
active group in the Hasidic branch of Orthodox Jewry. Since the first Lubavitch
synagogue was founded in Miami Beach in 1960, the movement has founded 77
congregations throughout Florida, 40 of them in Broward and Palm Beach
counties.
Classes in history, psychology, prayer, scriptures, even how to keep a Jewish
home, are on the slate for the students - nine hours a day, five and a half
days a week. Beyond that, the girls guest-teach at area Jewish day schools.
It's a mind-bending schedule for the exuberant young women, who still enjoy
goofing and joking around with each other during lunchtime. But they tackle
their workload confidently.
Miri Rudski of Montreal emerged from a recent class after an hour of debate on
fine points of Jewish law - buying, selling, who should profit - the kind of
nitpicking that has bewildered older, grayer heads for centuries.
The 18-year-old held up a thumb and grinned jubilantly.
"It takes brains, it's an accomplishment," said Rudski. "You're
figuring things out. Makes you feel good."
Many of the students planned to stay in South Florida during Hanukkah, rather
than join families at home.
For one thing, it's warmer here than in London or Toronto, or even Brooklyn,
where the Lubavitch movement is based (and the source of a third of this
grouping). For another, they helped out at several Hanukkah celebrations in the
area.
This seems to be the right time for Judaic education for women in South
Florida. Talmudic University, an Orthodox yeshiva on Miami Beach, launched a
women's division this year with 14 students. The program also teaches secular
subjects accredited by Florida International University, according to Rabbi
David Holzer, dean of women.
However, Chaya Aydel is the first school in the state "exclusively for
women on a 24/7 basis," said Rabbi Raphael Tennenhaus, dean of the
yeshiva. "You don't have to be Barbra Streisand in Yentl to study Talmud
anymore."
At the opening ceremony earlier this fall, 500 people welcomed the first
students to the school. Once here, the girls found a kind of students' paradise
- especially if they came from up north.
"Our apartment is on the Intracoastal, really lovely," Sara Richland,
17, said in her lilting English accent. "In London, it's cold this time of
year. Here, I wake up every day like it's a holiday."
They start each day at 8 a.m. with prayer, then a half-hour for breakfast. Then
come classes, then an hour for lunch at the school. They get a couple of hours
off at 4 p.m. After dinner are two more hours of instruction. The students also
are taught karate and Israeli dancing.
Another 25 women from Broward, Palm Beach and Miami-Dade counties commute to
Chaya Aydel as well, as part of a continuing education program. Their studies
overlap the resident students' classes; sometimes the residents are the
teachers.
The girls said they relish chavrusa, the signature yeshiva study style that has
them challenge and debate one another. They are spurred to research and defend
their findings. Even the seemingly dry Gemara, a record of past rabbinic
arguments, is a draw.
On a recent Wednesday, Rabbi Dovid Kudan led a discussion from the Gemara on
ownership of merchandise, rocking slightly in his hard wooden chair as if
praying. The students sat with arcs of books and notebooks spread before them,
some waving for attention, some looking perplexed, a few with weary heads on
their desks.
Yet they enjoy wrestling with the concepts their spiritual forebears conquered.
"It's like eavesdropping on the rabbis," said Esther Rapaport, 18, of
Milwaukee. "You hear one point of view and it seems to make sense. Then
you hear a different approach. And you see how they come together into
law."
Most Orthodox girls take at least a year of religious schooling. Then they can
take another year toward a teaching diploma.
The girls dress in modest Orthodox style: blouses or knit tops covering their
elbows and collarbones; skirts or loose pants covering their knees. Yet their
styles are stylish, often including jewelry.
The seminary has no set dress code, because most of the girls are from Orthodox
communities. But if any of them need reminding, Lebovics' wife, Chanie, offers
a tactful word.
When swimming, they'll wear just swimsuits if only other women are around; but
at the public beach, they don thin skirts and blouses over the suits.
Rivky Grossbaum, 18, recalls other bathers at the beach staring at the girls,
then asking, "Why are you swimming in your clothes?" The Toronto
native explained to them about Orthodox Jewish modesty standards.
"They respected us for it then," she says.
Their main students, of course, will be their own children -- six or more kids
each, they hope, like the large families they were born into. Some said they
also planned to teach at religious schools.
No matter how many years they study, though, none of these girls will ever
become rabbis. Orthodoxy, alone among Jewish movements, reserves the rabbinate
to men. Yet these girls say it doesn't bother them.
"No problem," Rapaport said. "Men and women are like apples and
oranges. One isn't better. I have a different path in life."