SDJM: Single Divorced Jewish Mother by Shoshana Bulow, CSW
A year after my divorce, a friend's mother asked her son of he'd consider dating me. There I was, eight years his senior, divorced, and the mother of three young children. "Are you sure she's Jewish?" I asked him.Unfortunately my question was not groundless. That kind of openness is not representative of the general reaction in the Orthodox community to divorce and single parent families. Despite our growing numbers, the more common reaction is one of discomfort and inattention, making families feel marginalized at a time when they most need to feel embraced. Many would prefer to think that divorce does not happen in our community, and when it does, that it can be dealt with privately. Some rabbis say they are ill at ease when dealing with divorcing congregants. Of course this cannot be an excuse any more than would shying away from funerals, shiva homes, or hospital visits would be acceptable. However, it is not only rabbis who can make a difference; anyone can promote change in this area, creating a more empathic, sensitive and inclusive mind-set within the Jewish community.
The overall picture of my life postdivorce is a good one. In the nine years since my separation, I feel gratified to have three wonderful children who, for all the challenges of having raised them as a single parent, have been my primary source of happiness and pride. I have been blessed with supportive parents and extraordinary friends who make the tapestry of our lives so much richer. Professionally, I have developed a meaningful career. Personally, I have learned about my resilience and resourcefulness as well as about my vulnerabilities. Even in difficult moments, I have found solace knowing that the place I return to is one of optimism, connection, and promise.
Yet, raising children as a single parent in the Jewish community has not been easy. When I first separated, some close friends helped me get through that difficult period, but the larger community chose to hang back. Many women who I would bump into in the neighborhood would whisper to me that they admired my courage, that they wished they had half my strength. But for the most part, the same people in our Cleveland community who six years earlier were vying to invite the new rabbi's family to their homes for a Shabbat meal were now keeping their distance. Naively, I did not anticipate the impact my divorce would have on certain friendships, nor did I anticipate that any of my friends would judge me harshly. I certainly did not expect my sexual orientation to be questioned by a former friend, stating that she could not imagine any other reason I would leave my marriage.
I was forewarned about what to expect as a divorced woman in the broader Orthodox community by my friends' experiences with divorce in their own families. "Don't be surprised if you feel ostracized, it's not about you." But as my ex-husband received Shabbat invitations and I did not, I could not help but wonder why. Did they perceive him as helpless? Had they taken on the anger he had for me? Or, perhaps, unlike my perceived diminished value as a newly single, divorced mother with three young children, my ex-husband was re-entering the singles pool as an eligible bachelor, a desirable commodity on the shidduch market?
The story is a recurrent one. The divorced mother feels left out, marginalized, only conditionally accepted. Theories about why this is so abound. There are those who feel that the divorced woman presents a threat, either as a newly single woman, or as someone who has made the choice to end her marriage. She may prompt thoughts of leaving in others who may privately be having problems of their own. There are still others who feel that the marginalization has to do with social connections: financially, politically, and socially, the single mother often has less power, less to offer in terms of social advancement.
My children also felt this discomfort. During the early months of our separation, their teachers were uncomfortable broaching the issue of divorce, even though they clearly cared that the children were going through a difficult time. I worried that the teachers' silence could make my children feel ashamed of what was happening, and/or that they had to keep their pain a secret. So I pushed their teachers to talk to them, and even suggested words they could use. And while some teachers were better able to manage these difficult conversations, the sad fact was that they received no professional guidance.
Understandably, people may feel torn between respecting privacy and appearing indifferent to the divorced parent. But as the number of single-parent families in our community increases, the need to become aware of the day-to-day realities of these households becomes even more pressing. Because unlike the way in which we may (often erroneously) perceive a birth, illness or death as a one-time event, divorce - when there are children involved - is a lifelong process.
Countless ongoing challenges face the divorced family for years beyond the initial separation. Perhaps the biggest issue is that of co-parenting, or, all too often, trying to cope as a single parent when the other parent ceases to fulfill his or her parental responsibilities. There are the unremitting financial difficulties of divorce, as well as, for some, the chronic logistics of helping children navigate between two households. There is the complexity of helping children maintain and nurture a relationship with their other parent, despite one's own oftentimes negative feelings and experiences with their ex-spouse. There is the logistical and emotional balancing act of continuing to be a responsible parent while also dating.
On a community level, there is the issue of children in shul who must sit by themselves on the other side of the mechitza, or, who may prefer not to enter shul at all rather than sit alone. This could be easily remedied by organizing informal Big Sister/Big Brother programs in our synagogues where people can volunteer to be on the lookout for the child of a divorced or widowed parent, and invite the child to sit with him or her in shul. Similarly, on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, children sitting alone should be given priority by those responsible for seating arrangements and should be placed near friends rather than just given a leftover seat.
Our community's lack of awareness is manifest in the failure of most synagogues to have single parent membership categories. Most synagogues would gladly offer reduced membership rates to anyone in need, but the fact is that most single parents do not have the same financial means as two-parent households. Maintaining a household within the Jewish community is quite costly: single mothers are already likely to be requesting aid for school, camp, and other activities that are the norm for many families. A single-parent membership category in our synagogues would both acknowledge their financial situation and eliminate the shame that often accompanies having to ask for help.
Single parents often feel discomfort in going to school, synagogue and social functions alone, and many times will opt not to attend. To offset this we should have single parent events as part of our synagogue social functions. A woman who was organizing a singles' Shabbat event in my area several years ago sheepishly told me that I had purposely not been informed of the gathering. "There will be kohanim there," she said, "so we did not invite divorced women." Somehow, the prohibition of a kohen marrying a divorcee got translated into excluding divorced women from the singles' event list, even though many of the men in attendance would not be kohanim.
Our schools can do a better job of being sensitive to divorced families. They should provide teachers with in-service trainings about handling difficult issues that arise in families. Teachers need to be trained to use more sensitive language, as even benign comments and requests (for example, "both of your parents should sign your homework") can be emotionally laden for a child. Similarly, children of divorced parents should not be listed twice on the class list, as many schools still do. Additionally, schools can increase their sensitivity to the single parent body by recognizing that they often do not have the same financial or time resources as two-parent families.
The Orthodox community has begun to take important steps in giving voice to the issues faced by single parent households in our community. But having a voice is a two sided equation: it is dependent both on an individual's self-expression, and on the listener's openness to hearing what is being said. It must not be left solely to those who face challenge or adversity to express their voice. It is the community's responsibility to witness, listen and respond.
Shoshana Bulow, CSW, is a psychotherapist in New York City and Riverdale, NY. This article was based on a talk she gave at a JOFA conference, February 2004. Comments may be addressed to her at







Monday, September 27, 2004: gm wrote…
I think the whole community could do a better job of being sensitive to single parents.