26 October 2005 (Wednesday)
resolution(s), revolution(s)
The good news: it seems I have resolved my crisis of faith. Well, mostly. And probably not in the direction that Stella would have preferred. But there was a revelation, an awakening, an awareness, or at list a glimmer of enlightenment - something that made me realize that it is possible that I maybe do believe in God after all.
Of course, that's just putting a positive spin on a terrible experience.
Monday evening through Wednesday night marked Shmini Atzeret and Simchat Torah, the final wrap-up of the Crazy Jewish Autumn Holiday Season. Simchat Torah has long been my favorite holiday, perhaps a little because it is the light at the end of a very long tunnel of holy days, but mostly because it is meant to be a day of pure joy. On this holiday, we complete the yearly cycle of public Torah readings and immediately begin again with the first story of Creation (chapter one of Bereshit/Genesis). In celebration of restarting the cycle, and of the general goodness that is the Torah*, during both the evening and the morning services, all the sifrei Torah (Torah scrolls) in the synagogue are removed from the aron (ark/closet where they are usually kept) and carried around the bima (table from which the Torah is usually read) seven times. Usually, each circuit around the bima - called a hakafa, pl. hakafot - is followed by much singing and dancing. Each sefer Torah is passed from person to person, and the celebration is often focused on these objects - vessels of our religious teachings and representations of our faith. In a larger crowd, not everyone is given the opportunity to hold a sefer Torah, but the potential remains. An argument could be made that such extreme focus on an object borders on idolatry, but I think there is a stronger case for saying that, like kissing tzitzit during the Shema**, it is merely a highly effective tangible reminder of our true focus on the intanglible concept of God.
For the past fifteen years, in every congregation where I have celebrated Simchat Torah, the women have at least one sefer Torah to dance with and embrace. Granted, I may be working with a slightly skewed sample set (in one of these congregations, Ramath Orah, women hold sifrei Torah for the start of each hakafa, and call out the associated verses along with the men), but I think a survey of the Modern/centrist Orthodox scene would show that passing a sefer Torah to the women's section is an accepted practice in a considerable number of communities. Where it is not, the most common reason against reflects a fear of feminism or suspicions about the women's "insincere motivations." I can't speak for anyone else, but as far as I'm concerned the only reason I want to carry and dance with a sefer Torah on Simchat Torah is to demonstrate my profound love and respect for the Torah - the physical embodiment of that which has united and sustained Jewish communities for thousands of years.***
Julian has lived in Brookline since August of 1997, and I have lived here in May of 2003. In all those years, we had never spent Simchat Torah night at the Young Israel of Brookline, where we are members. We'd heard that the ruach (spiritedness) was almost nonexistent, and I must have been told that the women do not receive a sefer Torah for their celebrations. In most years past, we spent the holiday in Manhattan with friends, dancing into the wee hours and then getting up the next morning to do it some more. Last year, when my work schedule did not allow for out-of-town travel, we went to a house minyan for the evening service and celebration, where the single sefer Torah was shared between the women and the men.
This year, we originally planned on walking into Cambridge to the Tremont Street shul, or maybe the B.U. Hillel. A combination of factors convinced us to go to YIB. It was raining, windy, and raw - not condition conducive to a long walk. But, more importantly, we recently purchased a decent-sized home in Brookline, and we have been laying down roots in our shul. We have a certian level of investment in this community, and hope one day to raise children here. If we are going to become a part of the community, then we want to make the effort to truly become a part of it - and nothing ever changes (either in our own atittudes or in those of the community at large) without some effort. This year, YIB - recognizing the general lack of spirit in its past Simchat Torah celebrations - decided to bring in half a dozen "motivators" through Yeshiva University's Torah Tours program. I figured the least we could do was meet them halfway by showing up and trying to make the best of things.
What I saw there Tuesday night was dismal at best. During the first two hakafot, we stay in the sanctuary, men in the men's section with sifrei Torah going around the bima, and women in the women's section, with only a small area at the back available for dancing. Most of the women were either staring over the mechitza, or talking, or both. More than a few commented on the lack of sefer Torah (and potentially corresponding lack of ruach) on the women's side. After a few minutes of discussion and internal debate, I decided (perhaps against my better judgment) to bring up the issue with with rabbi.
So, I asked. I caught him toward the end of the second hakafa, when he was on his way back into the sanctuary after checking that the social hall was set up properly for us to all move into there. I tried to ask as deferentially as possible. I expected a "no" followed by a suggestion that we talk later, but somewhere deep inside I nutured a tiny spark of hope that he might say "yes." What I did not expect, and what I did receive, was a harsh, "No, never, it has never happened here and it will never happen here," seemingly cutting off all possibility of future discussion.
I could not let it go. I needed him to understand that this wasn't some political matter, this wasn't a bid for superficial equality. I wasn't even doing it for the women - I was doing it for me. I was undergoing so much inner turmoil, my relationship with God was in the gutter, my love for Judaism was diminishing rapidly, and I was becoming disillusioned with the entire concept of religious observance. I had come to the time of year where I reach out to hug God and give God a chance to hug me back, and the idea that someone was taking away even the potential for me to have that chance made me sick to my stomach.
I told him it was the first time in fifteen years I would not be holding a sefer Torah on Simchat Torah. He offered a halachic reason that made no sense to me.**** I countered with the issue of kavod habriot (respect for personal dignity), I mentioned all the places where this occurs. He told me I was wrong, they were wrong. Children came up and he handed them candies, and we continued to talk. People walked past, and we continued to talk. People (I am told) watched our conversation, knowing what I was doing and knowing it was fruitless, but perhaps cheering me on nonetheless...and we continued to talk. Half a dozen men carrying the sifrei Torah out of the sanctuary and into the social hall walked by us, and I stoped talking (possibly even mid-sentence, I don't remember) and kissed each sefer Torah as it passed.
The rabbi turned to follow them, I walked a few steps, and then found a (relatively) quiet corner of the lobby and began to cry.
I did not dance at all that night. Any sense of simcha I may have had was completely gone. Julian stood at my side throughout the evening. A visiting friend (a rabbi) spoke to the shul's rabbi on my behalf, though I still am unsure whether he was arguing the halachic issue of giving the women a sefer Torah or the issue of bringing a congregant to tears on a festive day. The shul president, among other people, came to talk to us. A few times, I tried to psych myself into joining the small group of dancing women (most were just standing around talking, and given the height of the makeshift mechitza, that may have been the more appropriate move). I couldn't do it. For me, it would have been pointless, joyless. All I wanted was to hold a sefer Torah for thirty seconds, to embrace and be embraced, to be rejuvenated and to restore my sense of joy. The hakafot ended, most people went back into the sanctuary to conclude the evening service, and I remained behind to cry some more.
As the last people filtered out of the sanctuary and into the lobby, we started to gather ourselves up to go. I realized that I'd left my sweater on my usual seat in the downstairs women's section, and so slipped back in to retrieve it. It lay in a heap at my usual seat - front and center of the back-of-the-shul women's section, the closest I can come to my desired place at the front of the shul and one of the few downstairs women's seats offering a mostly-unobstructed view of the bima and aron. I picked up my sweater and looked at the aron, where the sifrei Torah had been put away for the evening (the better to rest up for more celebrations the next morning, or so I like to think). I considered for a moment waiting there until the last person had left, sneaking into the men's section and up to the aron, and taking a sefer Torah into my arms for just a moment, letting the disappointment and longing all pour out and drinking back joy and comfort from the vessel of our faith.
That's where Julian found me, leaning against the mechitza, gazing toward the front of our shul, eyes and heart directed toward Torah and Jerusalem. I broke down again, crumpled into a pile on the floor for I don't know how long, until Julian gently escorted me out to the lobby and bundled me into my coat to go home.
I'm not sure exactly when, but some time between my collapse on the floor and the start of dinner, I began to giggle. I'm not an eternal optimist, but I do manage to find glimmers of hope in some dismal situations. And so, Tuesday night, I remembered my lack of faith and spirituality on Yom Kippur, and my muttered threat to God: "I don't care whether you're there or not, and that's a problem. If you want to hang onto me, you'd better give me a reason to hang onto you." I remembered, and I realized that if I didn't care, I wouldn't cry.
* No, really, I'm not even talking about that now. Just work with me here on the assumption that Torah = Goodness.
** I realize the irony of choosing as an example a mitzva that is not incumbent upon women. I'm sure there are other, more appropriate, examples, but this is the first that came to mind.
*** I have kind of a strange of obsession with sifrei Torah, especially considering that I'm not entirely sure I don't agree with the Documentary Hypothesis. During services, I almost always choose a seat as close to the aron as possible. Last year I was delighted to see a change in the path of the sefer Torah as it is carried back to the aron> on Shabbat morning - and I am, as Julian likes to tell people, a dedicated Torah-kisser.
**** Since I can't relate the conversation word-for-word, I am not going to attempt to represent both sides of it here.
Oh, Shanna! I didn't know that you were dealing with the same thing I was dealing with--this crisis of faith.
I feel terrible admitting that I didn't give a rat's tail about Simchat Torah or dancing with the Torah. That isn't to say that I do not love the Torah because I certainly do. My apathy is more a reflection of everything else going on with me. Anyway, we happened to be staying with friends who live on a Modern Orthodox yishuv and I'm sure all the schuls there allow women to dance with the Torah. So we had a lot of dancing on our side of the mechitzah. And yet, I didn't really care. How I wish that you could have been at MY schul! You would have appreciated it more--as it is, it was wasted on me.
On the other hand, I did have a moment during the first hakafah when the spirited sound of so many voices really moved me to tears and I said a few heartfelt prayers. Maybe that means something. It is not often that I feel anything positive at all.
Sorry to ramble. This was a beautifully written entry. Maybe you could email me and explain to me the halacha prohibiting women from having the Torah. Previously I cared too little to even ask, but now I'd like to know.
Interestingly, I spent my erev Simchat Torah crying, too, for similar, if not identical, reasons. I am blessed to be a member of a shul that allows - even encourages - women to dance with the sifrei Torah on Simchat Torah. For some moronic reason, I went to a different shul on erev ST, a place where women don't touch the Torah, where the ruach is found only on the men's side, and people were chatting away (there was no "women's" section - it was the men, and basically, stragglers.) so I couldn't even hear the hakafot. Without pushing myself into a group of men (not acceptable to me), I couldn't get a clear view of the Torahs.
It really made me appreciate that aspect of my shul and I made up for my miserable erev ST at the Shachrit services the next day. I feel absolutely sad for women who don't get/don't want/don't care to hold the Torah. It's not a political statement for me, either, it's a chance to hold onto a tangible reminder of God's word, of God's existence, of God's love for His people (okay, it's more selfish than that: God's love of ME). Holding the Torah makes it real.
I'm sorry you had such a horrible experience trying to communicate your needs and feelings to the rabbi.
I want to echo that you aren't alone... And my experiences with Simchat Torah (and all of yomin noraim) are shaping direction in answering many of my religious questions. I'll try to email/post more soon. *HUGS*
Maybe there's a good/obvious answer to this, but why would you belong to such a shul/community? Are there no better options in the area? That kind of attitude would pretty much be a deal-breaker for me.
As for me, Simchat Torah is one of my least favorite holidays, because I feel like the dancing is forced/artificial and it drags on way too long. Three hakafot at night and catching the last two in the morning are plenty for me. And I currently only go to places where women get sifrei Torah--without that, I would not go at all. But there are other reasons I dislike Simchat Torah. By that time, I don't really want to be in shul at all. And it's partly my presently-tortured relationship with the Torah--I love it theoretically and sometimes actually, but it's hard to get joyful about something so difficult. And sometimes it's hard to get joyful at all. (This, in comparison to weddings of dear friends, where I absolutely adore dancing and it makes perfect sense to me.)
In the shuls where I grew up, women did not get to hold sifrei Torah and they spent the evening gossiping, as far as I could tell. I think that this is still probably the case in most Modern Orthodox shuls. In Raanana, where I am now, there is one MO shul that lets women have sifrei Torah.
Sigh...
P.S. The BEST Simchat Torahs were when I was a little kid and could be on my father's shoulders on the men's side. That rocked. It really hasn't been the same since.
P.P.S. Lovely post, by the way.
ALG - no, unfortunately, there aren't any better options in the immediate area. There are different options within (long) walking distance, but none that could really become our "home," mainly because of the distance. (I hope in the next few days to post about my Simchat Torah morning experience, at the other end of the spectrum...but it took me 45 minutes to walk there.) Local alternatives are either even farther to the right, or are flat-out egalitarian, which is not something we're comfortable with.
Besides, there are many reasons to choose one shul or another, and one conversation with the rabbi of a shul is far from the most important of those. One big thing: we have friends there. The other big thing: we're not the type to stomp off the playground and start a new secret clubhouse just because the school buly would let us into his. Life is full of challenges, and the world is full of people who cannot or will not stand up for themselves. I'm not afraid to meet a challenge every now and then.
I'm so sorry to read such a sad story. I know from personal experience that you can thrill at the sight of a Sefer Torah even if you a) don't believe in Mosaic authorship and b) don't believe in a god.
I hope you find an outlet for your passion for Torah, amongst people who support your desire to be Jewish rather than diminish it.
E and I were both in near tears after reading this. I am sorry it was such a frustrating experience. Just know that we support you and know that you are 100% right! Love, R
Shanna, I'm so sorry to hear of your experience... I personally don't care whether or not a Sefer Torah makes it to my side of the mechitzah... but it matters very much to me that the women are as much a part of the celebration as the men are.
When we lived in Boston, I basically spent Simchat Torah shul-hopping, trying desperately to find a shul where the women at least danced instead of standing around gossiping and/or watching the men! The best options I found were BU Hillel and (believe it or not) the Talner Rebbe's shul. Chabad (near BU) wasn't so bad either.
Last year, our first year here, we spent Simchat Torah near the Day School... and the women don't even pretend to dance there. I was very disappointed. So this year we went to the closest shul (which didn't start as our first choice but more and more has grown on us) which also had imported Torah Tours students... and the level of Ruach was exactly what we were looking for. It reminded me of Cornell, only better. (Couldn't always get the women there interested in dancing either.) And one Torah did make it over to the women's side for part of one hakafah... but that wasn't the point. No matter who was actually holding the Torahs, I felt part of the celebration... that the women were as included as any man there who didn't happen to be holding a Torah at that moment. That we all felt the joy of the celebration, and we were all invited to the party. And if you need to personally hold a Torah to feel that way, then I'll join you in arguing for your right to hold it, (if necessary) even if I don't seek that privilege myself.
I have rarely commented on your blog, so I hope you don't find this audacious. As a former shul officer and gabbai in my own shul, Rinat Yisrael in Teaneck (where the Rabbi recently started allowing women to dance with the Sefer Torah), I have a shul politicview of this problem. First of all, while I understand that your unsuccessful attempt to change the Rabbi's mind was tied into other spiritual issues you face, the Rabbi is your employee. He is entitled to his halachic ruling, but in an area where there are a multiplicity of approaches within Orthodoxy, he has to understand that taking a maximalist stand can have an impact on his professional standing. There are a number of well respected Orthodox Rabbis who permit women dancing with the Sefer Torah, and you should gather up as much information about them as possible. Second, if you are not alone in your desire, he needs to understand that, and he also needs to understand that this is not a women's issue, but of interest to any member of the shul. Therefore, men who agree with you need to be part of this discussion. Last, this is an issue for a general membership meeting. The next time his contract is renegotiated, he has to understan that this is a matter of concern. Obviously, this can only work if he feels that he is covered halachically. That is why it's important to gather as much information as possible.
I found your post moving, by the way, and it just raises my hackles when a Rabbi misunderstands the role of his office so grossly.
Shanna, xxooxxooxxoo.
What you are doing is so hard and you are doing it so well. As a Young Israel refugee, I certainly understand where you are coming from and I really admire what you are doing.
Scarily, YI felt like a step up for me on Simchat Torah compared to the years before. plus I always felt I had no one to blame but myself that we never got past talking about going to Tremont St every year.
We had a great time at the Newton Centre Minyan this year. I know you don't believe in egal, but Simchat Torah sure makes me glad I do!
I'm sorry it was terrible. And I'm glad you're taking something away from it.
I had a similar experience with being reprimanded by a rabbi for dancing on Simchat Torah (even without a Torah). It's a shame.
Shanna, I'm sorry about your experience.
Here's an inspiring site that I hope will cheer u up innernet.org.il/
In my opinion, the ideal situation would be to have men dancing on one side of the mechitza and women dancing on the other side. Like they do at weddings.
Sharona - Who said anything about not having a mechitza? I was talking about having a sefer Torah on the women's side. If anything, I thought the mechitza we had set up in the social hall (a row of end-to-end folding tables) was inadequate.
mirty - I'm curious to hear more about your experience. Why in the world would you have been told not to dance??
Shanna, this was so painful to read, I can only imagine how painful it was to experience. I'm so sorry you had to go through this. I think that sometimes when it comes to struggling with Gd, the only way out is through.
I'm wondering what sort of argument the YIB rabbi made on halakhic grounds (!) against women dancing with sifre Torah (scratching my head on this one)?
At the risk of being condemned by the collective readership of the blog, I would like to post a defense for the Rabbi who is being criticized so thoroughly here for doing the right thing.
There are halachic considerations that serve as a basis for not allowing a Sefer Torah into the woman's section for dancing. Among these is Kavod haBriyot (this is a reason cited why women should not be able to dance with the Torah). Tzniut. Minhag. I am not an expert in this, have not done thorough research on the subject, nor do I have the experience to be able to render a halachic decision. But I do know that there is sufficient halachic basis for women dancing with the Torah to be forbidden. In fact, despite the way it is presented above, the minhag for almost the entire history of the Jewish people is for this to not be allowed - the burden of proof is on those who seek to have it permitted.
Yes, there are MO halachic authorities today who permit this. They have their reasons and feel that in their respective communities they have made what they feel is the proper halachic decision.
So to, the Rabbi in YIB has made what he feels is the proper halachic decision for his kehilla. That is his job - to make sure that everything in the shul runs according to halacha. I applaud him for taking a stand on an issue that he viewed as being the correct one.
Furthermore, your timing was just a little bit off on this one. I have heard that this has been an issue at YIB for a few years. It has been discussed on numerous ocassions. Other men and women have met with the Rabbi in an attempt to find a way to make everyone happy. I am sure that if you had tried to talk to the Rabbi on anytime before hakafot started on the night of Simchat Torah he would have been more than happy to speak with you about it.
But to pull him out of dancing in the middle of dancing in the second hakafa??? As if he was going to at that moment stop all dancing, make an announcement to the whole congregation (a large percentage of whom I am sure fully support the Rabbi's decision) and say "I know that we have discussed this dozens of times in the past. But I want everyone to know that I just decided that we should let women dance with Sifrei Torah"! There is a proper time and place for everything. On the converse, there is also an improper time and place for nearly everything. The night of Simchat Torah was NOT the proper time to discuss such a major issue with the Rabbi. I suspect that a good number of the people who you think were "cheering you" might in fact have been saying to themselves "such a chutzpah to make bring this up with the Rabbi right now".
I am not trying to make a judgement here on the motivations of either side. I am pretty sure that you are sincere in your efforts to furthers your avodat Hashem by dancing with the Torah and saying Kiddush. I am also pretty sure that the Rabbi is sincere in his efforts to keep everything halchic and to maintain the proper atmosphere during a holiday that at the same time has such a potential for both simcha and desecration. However, in the end, I applaud the Rabbi for understanding the role of his office so well.
Yaakov - I would be truly upset if any of my readers "condemned" you for your comment here. In case it was not clear from my post or my other comments: I regret my choice of timing. I have said that over and over in the past five days or so. I did not (realistically) expect any change to occur that night. It was a judgment call: log my "complaint" or bite my tongue?
And just to make it absolutely clear...at no point did I ever say that the rabbi was not doing his job, or was doing his job incorrectly. Nor did I say that his halachic decision was "wrong" (for the shul, or absolutely). I said that the reasoning he gave "made no sense to me." If you want to criticize one or more of the commenters for saying so, that is your prerogative.
My critcism was limited to the tone of the conversation, and that was only a small part of this post. I happen to have had many positive interactions with this rabbi in the past and look forward to many years of continuing our relationship.
This post was not, and is not, about the relevant halachic issues. It is about my emotions and my experience. I hope you can re-read it in that light, and understand my motivations for commiting my story to words.
Yaakov, you write: "In fact, despite the way it is presented above, the minhag for almost the entire history of the Jewish people is for this to not be allowed ..."
As I understand it, Simhat Torah is a fairly late innovation in our history and does not go back to Sinai or anywhere near it.
What exactly is wrong with women dancing separately on Simhat Torah if there is a mehitza in place? Women dance separately at weddings. What's the difference?
Sometimes I feel that opposition to women's dancing with the Torah comes not out of genuine halakhic grounding but rather out of a sense of feeling uncomfortable or perhaps even threatened, together with fear of the unknown. In my own experience, I have found that if one probes the opponents' reasons deeply enough, one eventually hears something like: "It's just not done! What will they want next?" or "My grandmother never did that!" (to which I'd reply: Did you ever ask her? You may be surprised) or even "I don't care if halakha allows it; I'm not comfortable with it!" I've heard all those, and don't sound like halakhic reasoning to me.
I guess what I'd like to see is more intellectual honesty on the part of the opponents and a willingness to separate halakha from their feelings of fear and personal discomfort. Yes, that could go both ways, but as the Rambam said, it's always easier to restrict, no?
Drew Kaplan,
Perhaps the rabbi was performing his halakhic and communal role appropriately. But he cannot have been performing his leadership role appropriately, or he would have told her kindly that it was not possible, not harshly. Even in the middle of the second hakafa (there are, after all, 7 of them) when the issue had been raised already. Clearly, Shanna didn't Know the issue had been discussed already that year. She was upset, that's all. And a good communal leader (heck, a good human being, which is what we're all striving to be) would take a moment and say something like "I'm sorry, I can't allow what you're asking for. If you'd like to meet with me after the holiday and look at the relevant texts, I'll show you why." If he were Really trying, maybe he'd try and make some other gesture to try and make her experience more simcha-dik- say, make an effort offer a few words encouraging women to dance, even without a Torah, or putting effort into a better mechitza for next year so women would feel more comfortable dancing, or some such.
I do not think to judge the Rabbi based on what he said or how he said it until you hear from him what his side of the story is. To say that a person has spoken harshly is a judgement call - others who heard or participated in the same exchange might describe it totally differently.
Al tadun et chavercha ad shetagia limekomo - do not judge your fellow until you have reached their position.
Yaakov - To say that a person's words caused pain to another person is an assessment that can be made only by the one who was hurt. In this situation, I think it is fairly undisputed that I found the rabbi's approach hurtful and upsetting. debka_notion's imagined exchange would have been much more productive and, in fact, the only reason I pushed the issue at the time is because (as I wrote in the original post) the rabbi's tone seemed to cut off all possibility of future discussion.
When you bump into somebody getting off the bus, you may hurt them. Maybe you were being careless and not looking around, maybe you were being rude and pushing people out of your way, or maybe despite all your best efforts to avoid hurting anyone, there was nowhere else for your shoulder to go at that moment. No matter what the reason or how good your intentions, the fact remains that you have elbowed someone in the ribs or stepped on someone's foot. Or, in perhaps a closer comparison, you may find yourself saying something inordinately hurtful in the course of conversation - asking a long-married couple when they plan to have children without knowing that they are struggling with infertility, or asking after the health of someone's pet without realizing the poor Fido died last week. I can't speak for anyone else, but when I realize I have done such a thing, I am truly remorseful for any pain I may have caused, and I make every effort to set the situation right. In the case of a commuting bump, that could be just a quick apology and an assessment of whether the person is in continuing pain and needs a seat (or more). The appropriate response in other cases varies by situation, but the fact remains that the question of whether one has been hurt, physically or emotionally, is largely unrelated to the question of intent.
I agree with everything that you are saying.
And I still stand by what I said.
In the comments above, people are criticizing the Rabbi based on your take on the situation. There are two sides to every story. Maybe if you posted a video of the exchange and a transcript, along with interviews of all witnesses, maybe people here might be able to forward an educated opinion of who was in the right and who was in the wrong. Who knows, (just stating a possibility here, I did not see what happened, not making any accusations), maybe you said something to the Rabbi that he found to be personally offensive and lacking the proper respect, which caused him to respond in the way that you report.
Without having been there, I do not think it right for people here to speak badly of another person's behavior. Especially on an open Internet forum, and especially where the identity of the other party involved is very easily discovered, it is bordering on Lashon haRah and is not acceptable.
So if instead of everyone criticizing the Rabbi, everyone would instead express support for Shanna, we should be ok.
I experienced something alike, I screemed in front of all assembled: "Have a lot of fun with your Judaism" and left. I returned only 2 years afterwards to shul. This year I was in shul until the hakafoth, because for me still every hakafa I get a hat(!)kafa...
Simchat Torah 5764 I went to a wonderful shul with a wonderful rabbi -- but women are not permitted to touch a sefer torah. There was a lot of singing and dancing on the men's section. There were a lot of glum faces on the women's side of the (not overly high) mechitzah. A few women tried to dance a bit, but it fizzled out after just a few minutes.
My own simchah was seriously depressed that night. I resolved that the next year I would go somewhere where there was simchah on both sides of the mechitzah. Since there were no shuls in my neighborhood, for ST 5765 I went away -- to a place where women could dance around a sefer torah. I was single so I didn't have to worry about any family commitments. There was a lot of simcha on both sides, and my own simchah was elevated.
About a month before that I had began corresponding with a woman who had contacted me on frumster.com. She lived in another city and therefore we had not met yet but we seemed to have a lot in common. After the three day yom tov that included last year's ST I called her and we talked for over two hours. She had started ST night on the wrong side of a plexiglas mechitzah, basically a spectator. She left the shul and went to another shul that had a more inclusive service. I shared with her that it was unacceptible to me that we act like half the Jewish people didn't receive the torah. She was happy that I seemed to understand where she was coming from and why she didn't experience simchah on simchat torah.
To make a long story short, we did meet the following Shabat, really hit it off, and were married last February. We now live in a community that has a shul that encourages women to dance with a sefer torah -- and is also alcohol free so we don't have to witness the sad spectacle of people getting drunk. We spent ST there and truly enjoyed it. And we don't ever plan to spend ST at a shul that requires women to be only spectators.
BTW my wife isn't really all that far to the left of the Orthodox spectrum. She doesn't like the idea of women's tefillah groups, doesn't study gemara, doesn't wear pants, and fully covers her hair. But she feels that she is just as much a torah Jew as me and wants to rejoice on Simchat Torah every year, and I support that.
