Dear Tali,
I understand your argument and you make some important points, especially about the need to refine our educational methods. At the same time, I do not think it was right to condemn a pedagogical system which has the goal of helping others lead more halakhic lives.
Personally, The Magic Touch changed my life.
I, too, attended a Modern Orthodox high school. Yes, shomer negiah was always one of those controversial topics—the ubiquitous subject raised on shabbatonim, in class, and on NCSY events. Some girls feared the topic while other girls loved to talk about it, but my reaction, whenever it was brought up, was just apathy. I simply didn’t see the big deal. “Being shomer” was not something I wanted to involve in my life at that point in time.
Then, in 11th grade, Gila Manolson came to my high school to give a lecture. At first I was defensive, and tuned her out. My 16 year-old-self told me not to care. But gradually I heard her convincing arguments. I listened to the real, practical examples she brought. I heard the explanations behind the ideas in her book: why it was important to be “shomer,” what the beauty behind the commandment was, and what some of the practical benefits were of keeping this halakha. Slowly, gradually, her speech made me reexamine the topic as a whole.
As Manolson writes in her book, “Judaism wants physical relationships to be special. True specialness is two people sharing something that neither one has experienced before. Since a physical relationship draws most of its strength from your feelings for one another, the more singular these emotions are, the more unique and powerful any intimacy—starting with touch—will be” (39).
I decided I would have to stop treating touch as something insignificant and worthless. Manolson’s speech did not make me feel like I was a disgusting person for not being shomer. Her book did not scare me. It brought the halakha down to my level, and made me look at shomer negiah from a practical perspective. Yes, I had an uncomfortable decision to make after reading the book. But it was that decision that has helped shape much of my spiritual growth.
In your article you speak about the “anti-religious” arguments of educators like Manolson, arguments that “dehumanize their subjects, rather than affirming their dignity as human beings.” You write that you wish Orthodoxy would promote approaches that instead emphasize “mutual respect and the clear recognition of the humanity of one’s partner.” Interestingly, I felt that The Magic Touch actually accomplished the latter. It was exactly these points about shomer negiah’s ability to encourage a “mutual respect” between partners that helped me make the ultimate decision to start adhering to this halakha.
The majority of the book is a sincere attempt to portray the stringent laws in their most positive light. For example, when Manolson relates an anecdote with one of her students, Andy, she shares the beautiful things he told her after deciding to undergo a touch-free relationship: “The really incredible thing is that I have never respected a woman so much in my life. What’s more, I’ve never felt so much for anyone in such a short time. I can honestly say that I love her…And I still don’t know what she looks like under that baggy dress. And I don’t even care” (35).
Even the title of the book reveals the author’s intent to intentionally refrain from employing negative, “fear-inducing” approaches to the mitzvah of shomer negiah. The vast majority of the book shows the beauty of choosing to keep the halakhot of shomer negiah. There was—there is—so much positivity imbued within that book. I chose to focus on the positive.
Your Fellow Classmate,
Samantha Klein