Category Archives: Machshava/Jewish Thought

Open and Closed

     The British novelist Terry Pratchett once said that “the trouble with having an open mind, of course, is that people will insist on coming along and trying to put things in it.” In a nutshell, that is the problem with the movement self-entitled “Open Orthodoxy.” Too many people are coming along and dropping into the Open Orthodoxy box ideas, values and practices that are more “open” than they are “Orthodox.” After all, Orthodoxy is not an intellectual, moral or behavioral free-for-all. It is a system of beliefs and practices that guide our lives and with which we seek to shape the world around us. Orthodoxy naturally clashes with a society that is more amenable to “anything goes” than the absolutes of commandments that reflect the will of G-d.

     This has been an ongoing controversy in the Jewish world for several years running, addressed here quite a while ago, and has heated up again in the last few weeks. The new president of YCT , Rabbi Asher Lopatin, penned a piece in Haaretz, of all places, essentially blaming the ultra-Orthodox for the continuing castigation of his institution. This was followed by a response by a sizable group of decidedly not ultra-Orthodox rabbis (including myself) which underscored that the opposition to YCT, and especially the excesses of some of its ordainees, comes in large part from the mainstream of the Orthodox world –meaning that almost the entire orthodox world as currently constituted finds its program flawed and wanting.

The defense from an academic – again in the secular Jewish media – came swiftly, as well as a bizarre attack on the traditional rabbinate by a fringe group that invoked the Holocaust as well as all the modern buzzwords of abuse but never addressed an iota of the substance. Even the academic  defense was inaccurate, attributing the “Statement on Open Orthodoxy” to a rogue group of RCA members – “none of them, it should be noted, an officer of the RCA.” In fact, one signatory is a present officer, several are past officers and present members of the Executive Committee, and at least two are past presidents. It is a widely representative group and assembled ad hoc and on short notice. In any event, this group was assailed for disassembling the “Big Tent” of Orthodoxy and compared to the troglodytes of right-wingers in the 1930’s who ostracized the members of the fledgling RCA.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

There are two unresolved problems. The first is that no one I know is interested in ostracism, tiny tents, witch-hunts or quarrels. Indeed, both Rabbi Lopatin and his predecessor, Rabbi Avi Weiss, are extremely charming, genuine people, with sterling personal qualities who both have accomplished much for the Jewish people. Most people I know are reluctant to deal with this openly because of the respect both men have garnered over the years, notwithstanding the controversial positions they have taken. But this is business, not personal.

Added to this brew is the contretemps over the rejection by the Israeli rabbinate of some of Rabbi Weiss’ letters vouching for the Jewish credentials of Americans wishing to marry in Israel – an admittedly strong step – and we have the makings of a real brouhaha. But it is a brouhaha that is inevitable when we realize that the Torah must stand for something, and that something has to be defined, embraced and loved.

The second problem is internal. On some level it is unfair to attack an institution for statements or acts of its alumni, and the same is true for rabbinical institutions. RIETS, for example, has had a number of its ordainees openly leave Orthodoxy in the past, teach at non-Orthodox seminaries, or otherwise espouse heretical views. But RIETS at least has a tradition that is nearly a century old. Its musmachim have included notable Torah figures and Rabbis who shaped the Torah world. The YCT sample size is much smaller, and therefore disproportionately representative of the institution.

When some YCT graduates deny the divine origin of the Torah, assert that our forefathers never existed and therefore the entire narrative of the Jewish people is false, or insinuate that there was no divine revelation at Sinai, they have done more than force a band of rabbis to constrict the size of the tent; they have departed from Orthodoxy and lost the right to present themselves as Orthodox rabbis.

Similarly, when some YCT graduates remove parts of the davening that they find offensive, when they celebrate the nuptials of two homosexuals, when they invite non-Orthodox female clergy to lead the prayers, when they host or join interfaith prayer services, or, indeed, when they demean and distort the traditional role for women in Jewish with untold ramifications, they are bound to attract the opposition of the traditional, mainstream Orthodox rabbinate. Indeed, as our statement enunciated: “But if Open Orthodoxy’s leaders feel some distance developing between themselves and mainstream Orthodoxy, they should not be blaming others. They might consider how they themselves have plunged ahead, again and again, across the border that divides Orthodoxy from neo-Conservatism. Why are they surprised to find themselves on the wrong side of a dividing line?

Similarly, no one rejoices in the rejection of Rabbi Weiss’ letters, neither personally or professionally. I genuinely feel for him and his congregants who are affected by this, and I hope an appropriate resolution is found. But there is a point at which the Orthodox world will take note of certain spiritual choices made, and say, “Enough; this is beyond Orthodoxy.” It should be no surprise that the ordination of women will strike the Israeli Rabbinate as the hallmark of the non-Orthodox clergy, as will the hosting in shul of church choirs, as will having a woman lead Kabbalat Shabbat, as will the embrace of halachic leniencies that are far outside the consensus of Orthodox practice. Surely, his new demand for the recognition by the Israeli rabbinate of the conversions conducted by non-Orthodox rabbis is not generally associated with the leanings of an Orthodox rabbi.

Can an Orthodox rabbi really endorse granting Israeli citizenship as a Jew to a “convert” who does not accept the mitzvot, did not go to Mikveh, has no intention of leading a Jewish life? Or, as is Reform practice, can it be expected that Rabbis who cherish unity in Jewish life will nonetheless acquiesce to ascribing Jewish status to the child of a Jewish father and non-Jewish mother? In one fascinating exchange earlier this week, the white knight of the modern Orthodox rabbinate (I say that half in jest), Rav David Stav shlit”a, the head of Tzohar and erstwhile candidate for Chief Rabbi, retorted to a Reform rabbi: “The problem of assimilation among American Jews isn’t just an American problem… Chelsea Clinton married a Jewish man. I don’t dispute your right to think what you want, [but] do you want me to recognize Chelsea Clinton’s child as a Jew? You want me to recognize the rabbi who married them as a rabbi? He added that we sometimes have to pay a steep price in terms of public relations and even love of Torah by not-yet observant Jews, but “we are willing to pay this heavy price because of our responsibility to the people of Israel, and our desire to keep the people of Israel united – even though in the short term, it leads to enmity toward the Torah and its sages.

Undoubtedly, YCT has a number of fine musmachim, as did JTS in an earlier incarnation of neo-Conservatism, and they must surely recoil at the intemperance of some of the classmates. They have a critical role to play before the reputation of their alma mater is cemented in the public eye as neo-Conservative, if indeed it is not too late already. With the demise of the Conservative movement, there is that niche to be filled – but wouldn’t the ultimate consequences be the same?

There is a limit to which the Torah world can embrace modern notions. Pluralism, egalitarianism, and moral relativity make fine contributions to the Western world, and are an improvement on paganism and ritual sacrifice. But just because they define Western society does not make them Jewish, or even desirable.

If you take the “-dox” (belief) out of Orthodox, then you are left with Ortho-, and we might as well be selling specialty shoes. We are defined by what we believe and what we do, by our fidelity to the Mesorah, our respect for our Sages and our willingness to conform our desires to G-d’s will rather than the converse. A wise person once said that “even an open mind has to close at a certain point or nothing stays in.” The boundaries of “Open Orthodoxy” have to be delineated not in platitudes, clichés and slogans – but in deeds, thought, values and Torah commitment.

In that process they will find the Orthodox world a reliable ally – or a steadfast opponent.

The Chacham

It is exceedingly rare that the death of a 93 year-old should inspire widespread grief and mourning, and even rarer when a nonagenarian is able to remain active, vibrant, razor-sharp and influential until his final breath. But certainly the uncommonness of those two phenomena pales before the stark reality that a funeral of someone that attracts more than 800,000 participants – the largest by far in Israel’s history, and involving almost one out of every seven Jews in the land of Israel – is a singular event marking the passing of a singular personality – HaRav HaChacham Ovadia Yosef zt”l.

He wore many different hats – and most famously the turban and robes of the Rishon L’Tzion, the Sefaradic Chief Rabbi of Israel – as a scholar, leader, political figure, father figure, and role model. Foremost, his loss will be most acutely felt in the world of Torah. In a world where the title of Gaon is tossed about like a used baseball, Chacham Ovadia was that extraordinary individual before whom the entire gamut of Torah was an open book from which he could recite verbatim. That is a marvel that one reads about in connection with rabbis of prior generations; but reading about history and experiencing it in real life are two different things. To anyone who values Torah scholarship, the ability to internalize G-d’s word, both written and oral, from Sinai until modern times, and to comprehend, memorize, categorize and apply it to modern life, is simply remarkable.

For sure, every generation is blessed with great Torah scholars; that is a divine guarantee. Recent generations have been blessed with outstanding Torah scholars, in Israel and in the United States, and far be it from me to rate them on a scale of greatness. But Chacham Ovadia was unique in one respect:

he revived in the Torah world the halachic decisions of the great Sefaradic decisors of the last few centuries, many of whom were essentially lost to the Ashkenazic Torah world. The responsa of most Ashkenazic Torah giants of recent times referred almost exclusively to Ashkenazic decisors, not a sign of prejudice as much as the simple lack of exposure in pre-modern times to the works of the poskim of the Edot Hamizrach. Chacham Ovadia’s major halachic writings – the voluminous major halachic writings – the voluminous Yabia Omer and the more readable Yechaveh Da’at – are veritable encyclopedias that cite (what seems to be) every known opinion on the subject, from both Ashkenazic and Sefaradic authorities.

By way of illustration: a well known rabbi whom I met a few nights ago was carrying with him one responsum of Chacham Ovadia to study on his travels. Just that one – numbering six or seven pages in total – could take hours to study. If all the sources quoted were studied in the original, the review could take days. And the Chacham wrote thousands upon thousands of them, with all the sources in front of his mind’s eye, and was able to analyze, draw his conclusions, and set his answers on paper in comprehensible form to give appropriate guidance to both the questioner and to all students of Torah. That is exceptional genius that is not encountered very often.

That revival of the role of Sefaradic decisors was the tip of the spear in the general revitalization of Sefaradic life, culture, pride and Torah observance that Chacham Ovadia promoted. It is undeniable that the European Jewish elites who were largely responsible for the establishment of the State of Israel did not always look with respect upon the Sefaradim native to the land of Israel or those who came as refugees from Arab lands (like the four year-old Ovadia Yosef, who was born in Baghdad). Discrimination was rampant, educational and employment opportunities were limited, and the culture was perceived as primitive and backward – too Arab and not at all European.

Chacham Ovadia led that revolution as well – l’hachzir atara l’yoshna (to restore the crown to its former glory) restoring pride and dignity to all and Torah observance to many, providing social support to those who needed it, and founding a special educational system to cater to Sefaradim (utilizing the Sefaradic method of Torah study which differs from that of Ashkenazim). It was during his tenure as Chief Rabbi that the late PM Menahem Begin began the process of integrating Sefaradim into the mainstream of Israeli life, riding their support to electoral victory in 1977. That, unwittingly but predictably, gave rise to the formation of ethnic sefaradi political parties which have been a mixed blessing for them and for Israel – first the Tami party of Aharon Abuchatzeira, and then Chacham Ovadia’s radical founding of the Shas party, which broke with the Haredi political establishment – to the mortification and disapproval of Rav Shach and others – and began to attract widespread Sefaradic support.

Certainly, the party was founded on ethnic grievances, and even in the most recent election, ran on a platform of eternal grievance against the establishment notwithstanding that it has been part of that same establishment for almost 30 years. Because of the ethnic label, it is the only Haredi party that draws many secular votes; but parties founded on grievances tend to stultify over time, and such has happened to Shas. Its support has dwindled in recent years as its erstwhile supporters have entered the mainstream, and its political leaders have feuded. It is headed into some rocky territory without its spiritual leader.  Nonetheless, its electoral strength – it has always had almost double the number of Knesset mandates of the Ashkenazi Haredi parties – has afforded it substantial control over the religious establishment for almost two decades, with not always positive results.

The clichés that unknowing journalists used to summarize his life have focused on two areas – his leniencies in Jewish law and his leftish politics. Both are misnomers. Chacham Ovadia was certainly a posek who weighed all opinions and perceived halacha as the means by which we serve Hashem, not punish ourselves. As he himself said, one unversed in Jewish law can easily prohibit anything; it doesn’t take much knowledge to say “no” (see Rashi, Masechet Beitza 2b). But he didn’t just arbitrarily say “everything is permissible” to make people happy. He could be strict also. (ModOs take note:  in some circles, it also doesn’t take much knowledge to say “yes,” if halachic process and methodology are construed as trifles.) And he had the courage to stand behind controversial decisions, even those which defied the consensus of rabbinic opinion.

Most infamously, Chacham Ovadia issued an opinion in the 1990s in support of surrendering parts of the land of Israel for the sake of peace, and the Oslo debacle could not have occurred without the support of Shas, either implicitly or explicitly. From this vantage point, his political instincts were not always keen. But two points must be underscored that are widely overlooked: his decision was in favor of real peace, not the piecemeal destruction of Israel. (And few authorities would argue that maintaining every inch in the land of Israel in the face of national suicide is a plausible halachic approach; if it were, then even a tactical retreat in the heat of battle would be prohibited.)

The second point is even more telling: he publicly retracted his decision in 2003, writing that “the Oslo Accords are null and void” and that the peace of Oslo –the death and maiming of thousands of Jews – is not what he meant by “peace.” But the left has largely ignored the retraction. Two truths must be recognized: if another surrender agreement is tabled, Chacham Ovadia’s psak will be trotted out again, whether warranted or not (one can always argue that the coming peace will be the glorious peace anticipated by the psak, whether true or not – always the weakest link in the decision itself); and his support of Oslo was utilized disingenuously by Oslo-ites. They would have paid no attention to him had he opposed it like more than 90% of the Rabbis in Israel, to whom they paid no attention. (His late son, Rav Yaakov Yosef, notably disagreed with his father on this issue.)

He was fearless and colorful, which occasionally prompted him to speak somewhat caustically, all points catalogued enthusiastically by the “Gotcha Gang” of today’s faux moralists. Personally, I give a lot of verbal slack to people over 80 years old; they can speak freely! And despite these blips, his love of Israel was enormous, and his anguish over those Jews who are unfaithful to Torah was immense.

The 800,000 people at his funeral were about 800,000 more people than any of us mortals will attract to ours. It was a testament to the honor due to the Torah and its Sages, and to this exalted individual, who was blessed by G-d “who apportioned of His knowledge to those who revere Him.”

May his memory be a blessing and inspiration for all Jews.

The Virtue of Self-Doubt

The Ten Days of Penitence culminating in Yom Kippurim usher in a period of reflection, contemplation, introspection and repentance. We look back at our past deeds and evaluate what could have been done differently or should have been done better (or not at all) before turning our attention to prospective actions, thoughts and traits. An honest appraisal of oneself is imperative as a prelude to making any real progress in one’s character development.

Earlier this summer, I received an intensive lesson in self-evaluations and re-appraisals in a trip to the great American Midwest and south, and a tour of presidential libraries. In less than a week, we visited the Truman Library (Independence MO), the Clinton Library (Little Rock AR), and the two Bush libraries in Texas (Bush II in Dallas and Bush I in College Station). Each was fascinating (they all are; I have visited most), and each was extraordinarily well done. Truman was the first to devote his post-presidency to his library, although FDR was the first president to designate his home in Hyde Park as a library and research center. (An excellent new museum just opened at the FDR Library, and was visited more recently).

Each museum has one objective and answers one general question: how does the president want to be remembered – not how the media or historians perceive him – but how does he want to be remembered? Truman emphasized his humble origins, his accidental presidency that took years to become his own, his integrity and small-town American values. Clinton’s library is an architecturally and intellectually overwhelming, and incredibly wonkish. It is as if he tried to account for every single day of his presidency; his daily schedule for every day of his presidency is neatly displayed in folders month after month, year after year (well, not every day; it was the days of “no official presidential business” that got him into trouble.) He was also the least personal of presidents, as if his entire life was about politics. All the other presidents featured their backgrounds, personal homes, lighter moments, family life, hobbies, etc. Clinton, unique among modern presidents, seemingly did not have a home – he lived in the governor’s mansion and then the White House for well over two decades, and vacations were spent at friends’ homes.

George H. W. Bush. had the most impressive personal history of any of them – having had much more life experience than the others in a variety of capacities, without complete success in any of them – from being shot down as a Navy pilot in WW II to his business career, service in Congress, variety of presidential appointments, the vice-presidency and his one-term presidency. His library devotes more time to his other careers than the others did, and naturally with special emphasis on the Gulf War during his tenure.

And the George W. Bush library was riveting, and visually spectacular. Obviously, he underscored certain things and gave short shrift to others, but one thing stood out, and maybe it was because we went to Truman on Sunday, Clinton on Monday and Bush II on Tuesday. Bush’s whole theme – like the name of his memoirs – was “Decision Points.” There is even a Decision Points Theater in his museum where visitors can stand and assess the various factors, pro and con, that went into his major decisions – the war, response to Katrina, the surge, and the financial crisis – with each issue broken down into four categories, with expert advice on both sides – and then the visitor gets to decide. It is a tiny glimpse into the life of the president, the decisions that have to be made – sometimes quickly – and how sometimes good and reasonable decisions do not turn out as hoped.

But here’s what was most impressive: Bush didn’t claim to be right on every decision. Even good decisions can sometimes go awry. He didn’t even know if it was the right decision at the time, only that it was his honest conclusion after weighing all the facts, circumstances and expert opinion. Truman was the same way; in his library, there was a large wall, that contained floor to ceiling two dozen different opinions from people as to whether Truman should have used the atomic bomb – and twice – on Japan, including a quote from Dwight Eisenhower in 1963 that he (Ike) thought it was unnecessary. Some of the quoted were quite critical of Truman. In essence, Truman didn’t claim to be right, only that he did what he thought was right – to avert the anticipated death of a million American servicemen in a land invasion of Japan. (To me, still a compelling and proper conclusion for an American Commander-in-Chief.)

There was humility in both men, the modest expression of doubt – and even in Bush I’s account of the lead up to the Gulf War, agonizing over launching it and seeking a world consensus before doing so. FDR’s new museum was similarly, and brutally, honest, with a dozen sidebars called “Confront the Issue” that featured unblemished and objective looks at FDR’s actions or inactions: did he know about Pearl Harbor before it happened? Did he provoke a war with Germany by siding with Britain and ending America’s neutrality months before December 1941? Did he do anything substantial to save Jewish refugees, beyond rhetoric? Should he have bombed the railway tracks to Auschwitz? Did he conceal his health problems from the public before the 1944 election?  Both sides were presented. Criticisms were acknowledged.

Doubt is good; it is human. It is humbling. It is worthy of a leader.

Bill Clinton’s museum stands out in that he had no doubts. It is not done in a heavy-handed way, but the idea comes through very clearly. Every issue he confronted had only one right answer – his. The only problem in his presidency was the presence of Republicans, who could only obstruct and thwart his efforts to perfect the world but little positive. Even the section on his impeachment was devoted to statements and videos of scholars saying that his was not an impeachable offense, and all about politics and personal destruction. And even some of his strengths as president – his ability to triangulate policy and compromise with Republicans – are muted in favor of his certainty of rectitude that brooks no other possibilities. He comes across, and probably is, a decent and caring person, but he has no doubts, no hesitation, no regrets and no second thoughts about any of his policies or actions. Nor, seemingly, will he abide anyone else having them.

The current occupant of the White House seems cut from the same cloth, and one would expect his presidential library and museum to countenance no dissent, no criticism, and no latitude in which there can be more than one right opinion, or any opinion not that of Obama himself. It certainly explains today’s desperate needs to avoid looking like he has erased his red line on Syria’s use of  chemical and to make the pending compromise look like it was his idea all along – and not like he has been outmaneuvered by the wily Russians. (I suppose it stands to reason that a former KGB operative should be able to outwit a former community organizer.)

This is a terrible weakness in a president, a leader or in any human being – the inability or unwillingness to take a second look and re-evaluate past decisions. The inner capacity to tolerate that one might have erred and sometimes grievously in one’s calculations, or even that one made a sound decision that subsequent events proved faulty, is critical to self-improvement and personal growth. Perhaps the weaknesses arise from personality and temperament, from insecurity born of one’s youthful experiences, or from the ubiquity of the modern media that will record for posterity every admission of failure and broadcast it repeatedly.

Whatever the reason, the days before Yom Kippurim are an ideal time for us commoners to search our hearts and ways, evaluate past conduct, rectify misdeeds, learn from our mistakes, make the appropriate changes for the future, and, in so doing, merit divine favor and grace in the year ahead.

Shared Roles

The perpetual debate about the woman’s role in Judaism has been framed almost completely in the negative – what it is that women can’t do or shouldn’t do and why not? But what can women do? (What women should do is really a personal decision that depends on background, temperament, talent and other factors.)
Certainly, we should start with the basics. Both men and women were created in the image of G-d and both have the capacity to achieve great spiritual heights. “I call upon heaven and earth to testify whether Jew or non-Jew, man or woman, the divine spirit rests upon a person according to their deeds” (Eliyahu Rabba 10). Both have intellects and spiritual worth.
Certainly, as well, Chazal embraced for the Jewish family what economists call “production complementarities,” the notion that a fully-functioning home requires the distribution of tasks in a way that usually accords with the couple’s proclivities and thereby maximizes both success and happiness. Some people are just more suited to the workplace and the production of income, and others better suited to domestic life, hands-on child-rearing, and the nurturing of the home front. Obviously, the former was traditionally the domain of men, and the latter the domain of women, with some notable exceptions.
From that perspective, Chazal perceived the division of spiritual chores in the home accordingly: “How do women achieve merit? By sending their sons to learn Torah in shul, and sending their husbands to learn Torah in the Bet Midrash, and waiting for their husbands to return home.” In so doing, “the promise made to women is greater than the promise made to men” (Masechet Berachot 17a). The “production complementarities” of Jewish life worked well enough to sustain the Jewish home for several millennia, but, it must be conceded, no longer enriches the lives of many women. For them, their “souls are not satiated” (Kohelet 6:7) being relegated to a supportive role, even if that supportive role is actually perceived as superior, and even if that role has, for the most part, worked. (The book is still out on whether the elevated public role that women desire has been good or bad for the Jewish family and our children, but the early returns are hardly comforting.) What can they do? What can a woman contribute to the Jewish world once her child-rearing days are over? What can she do to exalt her own soul and those of others? Again, in economic terms, when a couple no longer pursues “consumption complementarities” – a shared pursuit of consumer goods and services – but each person pursues spiritual satisfaction of his/her own (as a religious “consumer”), what roles are open to women?
They are numerous. Earlier today, at a street fair here in Israel, I bought a set of “Nashim B’Tanach” (Women in the Bible) cards, produced in order to raise awareness of the esteemed role of women in Jewish life. In all, 40 women are profiled, ranging from the famous ones to the relatively obscure, like Achsah, daughter of Calev and wife of Otniel, who was so named (Masechet Temurah 16b) because “whoever saw her became angry at his wife [for Achsah was so beautiful and smart].” These women, giants of Jewish life, were all different, each making a unique contribution to the Jewish world.
At the top of the list of laudable activities is Torah study. Last week’s Besheva profiled Daniella Golan, a fascinating Baalat Teshuva who merited learning “b’chavruta” (companion study) with Rav Zvi Yehuda Kook in his latter years. She heads a study center for women in Yerushalayim called “Or Chaya” guided by some of the greatest rabbinical personalities of the last few decades that encourages Jewish women (when feasible) to leave their homes a few nights a week and learn Torah. It has a Chasidic bent, and eschews provocations and heavily politicized areas of study, simply to focus on Torah lishma, study for its own sake – to create better people and better homes. Add to that the dozens of daily shiurim for women taking place across the country designed for Talmud Torah, not political statements. Kain Yirbu!
Along those lines, nothing is more appropriate than women principals or heads of schools for young girls. They are ideal role models, and the ones that I have known have been filled with Torah knowledge and wonderful character traits. Ditto for women teachers of Torah, recognizing the reality that many men (not always for the most salutary reasons) will not attend a shiur given by women. But for women? Kain Yirbu. Additionally, while I have not been supportive of the yoetzet program for reasons stated elsewhere, many fine Rabbanim have been, both here and in America. The jury is still deliberating that also, whether it will stay within the bounds of the mesorah or stray afar, but I do concede that there are two sides to the issue.
Well over a decade ago, women first broke ground by appearing as toanot before the rabbinical courts. Truth be told, I never understood the objection before and do not really perceive this as encroaching on any Jewish principle. A to’ain (pleader) is essentially a lawyer in the rabbinical court system. Why can’t a woman be a lawyer in that forum, any less than in any other forum? As a lawyer myself, and as a Dayan, I have encountered women numerous times as advocates. Perhaps that is why I never understood the ban before or the hoopla after; it’s just something new, like female referees, but essentially innocuous.
Can women be machgichot? This is an open question that is usually answered affirmatively. Rav Moshe Feinstein permitted it in a somewhat limited case – a widow taking over her husband’s hashgacha – but many Kashrut organizations are permissive. There are technical issues involving forcefulness (often a problem for a male as well) and occasionally yichud, but both seem eminently resolvable.
When we consider that almost every profession is open to women, it emerges that women can have very full days, very fulfilling lives (if they too are not bitten by the materialism bug that can capture the male species), and actualize their spiritual potential as much as anyone. The problems only arise when female fulfillment is sought only in the duplication of the male role (essentially an insult to women), when parenting is delegated to outsiders, usually foreign women, entrusted with raising our children, and when the Torah virtue of limitations is renounced in favor of unfettered personal expression.
Nonetheless, we should never forget the ideal. Women who focus on rearing children and caring for the home can find immense fulfillment in that as well. The Internet provides unlimited opportunities to hear shiurim on a constant basis from thousands of Torah teachers, male and female. The chesed that women can do when their children are in school or grown is enormous and indispensable to Jewish life, adding a dimension to our world that is precious.
We do not have to be the same or do the same things (or even bear the same titles). In fact, it is far better that in G-d’s orchestra, like in man’s, each person plays a different instrument and plays it well, but together, to forge the great harmony that G-d has established for us as our most sublime goal in life.