While some in the Orthodox community cling to traditional positions, the boldest steps toward change and equality are being taken in Israel, often initiated and supported by Anglo immigrants.
In some synagogues, especially in Jerusalem, it is no longer unusual to see a group of women reading from the Torah scroll in a separate room or men and women divided by a flimsy, largely symbolic separation-curtain as they pray.
In Israel, women regularly appear as religious "lawyers" in the state-controlled religious courts, a position once reserved for men. A program opened last year in Jerusalem to train Orthodox women as "respondents" to deal with basic questions of religious law and sexuality - positions once considered the sole province of male rabbis.
Both of these programs were launched by Rabbi Shlomo Riskin, a former New Yorker who lives in Efrat. Riskin was also instrumental in paving the way for three women to serve on Efrat's local religious council, positions that had also been filled, with a few notable exceptions, almost exclusively by men.
But even as women progressed toward a more equal public role in Orthodox Judaism, until recently, it seemed that there was one title they would never be permitted to hold: rabbi.
But modern Orthodoxy could not remain immune to social change.
In 1972, the Progressive (Reform) movement was the first to ordain women rabbis. The Reconstructionist movement followed, graduating its first woman rabbi in 1977. Then, finally, the Conservative movement ordained its first woman rabbis in 1983.
The Orthodox movement has held out. Mimi Feigelson, a student of Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, was ordained by a panel of three rabbis after her teacher's death. Feigelson, however, declines to use the title "rabbi," out of respect, she says, for the current social structure of Orthodoxy. Eveline Goodman-Thau was ordained in October 2000 by Rabbi Jonathan Chipman, but she, too, has minimized her role in religious affairs.
Until recently, Orthodoxy had yet to officially accept women as rabbis.
That too, it would appear, has changed.
Haviva Ner-David is an Orthodox feminist who has been a leader of some of the most prominent struggles in Jewish women's lives. Just before Pessah, she received her PhD in Jewish studies from Bar-Ilan University. And then, on the eve of Pessah, Ner-David was ordained as a rabbi in Jerusalem.
Ner-David, who has journeyed through feminism, Judaism and social action for the betterment of the status of Jewish women, admits that she is still not completely aware of the tremendous significance of these two events.
She knows that some Orthodox Jews will not accept her ordination and will not acknowledge her religious and social status as a rabbi.
Yet this young and quiet resident of Baka and mother of five says she is neither hesitant nor frustrated: the dream she began to cherish some 12 years ago is coming true.
"I am not the same woman I was at the beginning of this 12-year journey," she says reflectively. I have discovered a lot about myself and what it means to be a woman rabbi at the beginning of the 21st century."
Rabbi Aryeh Strikovsky, well-regarded in modern Orthodox circles, signed Ner-David's ordination, mentoring and guiding her through her process of study. He is, he tells In Jerusalem, a strong believer in women's capacity for study and their ability "to swim in the ocean of the Talmud."
Strikovsky notes that the ordination that he gave to Ner-David is not the same as the more common ordination given to men.
"It is more of an official recognition of her achievements in her studies, that covered exactly the tractates and the issues men have to master in order to get an ordination," he explains.
"Practically, it is the same, since there is no objection to Ner-David providing answers and religious rulings to women who would come to ask her halachic questions, but in the Orthodox world and society it is not acceptable yet to ordain a woman."
Strikovsky acknowledges that the ordination was not granted in a particular ceremony. Yet he also says that Ner-David's knowledge and mastery of Jewish law are remarkable.
He further says that he would be "more than happy to see more and more women entering the world of Torah and Talmud. The only difference between Ner-David and any Orthodox rabbi is that it is not acceptable. But in all issues related to her learning and abilities, I see no difference."
Will women rabbis be more accepted in the future in the Orthodox world?
Strikovsky recalls the story of Osnat Barazani, who lived in Kurdistan in the 17th century. She was so deeply educated that her father, who was himself a rabbi and head of a yeshiva, ordained her and gave her the right to head his yeshiva after his death.
Concerned that his words might be considered as a qualification of her achievements, Strikovsky then adds, "In all other aspects - her piety, her knowledge and her dedication to Jewish law - I am not stepping back. I would especially like to point out her very deep and impressive knowledge of all the issues [Halachot] that are the crucial ones for men to be ordained."
What really matters, he says, is the ever-growing number of women who study Torah and Talmud. "This makes me happy and Haviva [Ner-David] is one of the best of these women."
Ner-David says that it is enough for her to receive smicha (ordination) from her revered teacher and that she did not expect him "to be so bold as to actually give her the title 'rabbi.'
"I have deep respect for Rabbi Strikovsky, and I am so grateful to him for all he has taught me, modeled for me and been willing to risk for what he knew was right," she says. "His hesitation to give me a title is understandable, but really that was not his role as I see it. He acknowledged my readiness to go out into the world and act in the role of a rabbi and he left it up to my community to decide what title to give me. And it seems to me already that my community has decided that it is ready for a woman rabbi.