Tight-knit Orthodox Jewish community balances religious customs with campus life

Separated from the men by an opaque green cotton curtain, sophomore Tzivia Friedman must stand on her toes to peer at her boyfriend on the other side. The two quietly chat — with the broadcloth between them — as others pour into the room before the weekly Orthodox Sabbath service at the Center for Jewish Life begins.

On the one hand, Friedman and Shoshana Haberman '02, president of the Orthodox student group Yavneh, acknowledge the apparent inequality of the service. The women participate on their own, unable to lead the service like the men. Yet they argue that they are separate but equal, explaining that women have a pivotal role in Orthodox daily life.

"You really have to live in an Orthodox world to understand that women have a different role than men, but not a part that is lower, just different," Haberman said.

While their faith at times separates them from their peers, Friedman and Haberman said the demands of Orthodox religious practice serve as a strong cohesive force uniting Princeton's Orthodox students. Most take full or partial meal plans at the Center for Jewish Life — the only kosher dining hall on campus — and congregate three times a day for prayer.

"In general, by the nature of our religion, we spend a lot of time together and rely on each other to maintain prayer. Things just end up being very close," Friedman said, joking about the common perception that the Orthodox students tend to keep tight dating circles. "The point is that [coming to a secular college] is self-selecting. You come here looking for certain things, and end up meeting people looking for the same things."

But keeping kashrut, or kosher, requires Orthodox students to give up freedoms that other students often take for granted, from eating in dining halls and clubs to accessing dormitories during the Sabbath.

"Orthodox Judaism is a way of life. There is no way to separate being observant from everything else in your life," Friedman said. "To a certain extent, Jewish law affects everything because, for example, we can't participate in activities that have things on Saturday."

"It impacts who you are and what you do on this campus," she added.

And though Princeton's 30 Orthodox students encounter these religious limitations in the real world beyond campus, certain elements of University life can pose unique difficulties — such as the prox card problem.

The switch to a 24-hour campus lockdown last fall raised a host of problems for Orthodox students, who cannot use electricity between Friday evening and sundown on Saturday. Because the opening and closing of dormitory doors sends an electric signal to Stanhope Hall, Orthodox students have had to work out a special arrangement with Public Safety to designate times during which they can enter and exit certain doors without using their prox cards.

But the current solution is not ideal, Public Safety Crime Prevention Specialist Barry Weiser said. "We get criticized from both sides," he said, explaining that the needs of the Orthodox students sometimes conflict with security concerns.

In an effort to satisfy all students, Public Safety plans to change certain doors to a lock and key system next October. Orthodox Jews will manually open the doors to their entryways, bypassing the electrical prox locks.

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"The only reason we have not done this before is that it is a logistical nightmare and right now it's a real resource concern," Weiser said, noting that because only certain doors would have locks, the locks themselves would have to move with the students who use them each year.

Right choice

Despite occasional problems, Friedman said she does not regret her choice to come to Princeton. Rather, she noted that being exposed to different perspectives has given her pride and strength in her faith. Like most Orthodox students, Friedman hails from a concentrated Jewish community and was educated at Jewish schools. Her hometown of Teaneck, N.J., has 10 synagogues, though it boasts a total population of just 40,000.

"I come from probably one of the biggest Jewish communities in the country," she said. "Being here is perfect. I needed to get away from the insular huge background, and because I have everything I need to be Jewish here, I can still branch out."