When my father graduated from college, he entered the management training program of a major drugstore chain, before eventually realizing that his calling was to become a rabbi.
One afternoon, a young teenage boy wandered into the store, looking rather bewildered as he examined the shelves of feminine hygiene products. My father approached him and asked if he could help.
“My mother sent me to buy napkins,” the boy explained, “but I’m not sure which kind to get.”
Although my father thought it rather unusual, especially in 1960, for a mother to send her young son to purchase sanitary napkins, he helped the boy make his selection.
About an hour later, a woman entered the store carrying a bag and a receipt. She explained that she had sent her son to purchase dinner napkins. Seeing the words “sanitary napkins,” the teen assumed they must be especially hygienic!
“He’s a very thoughtful boy,” she explained, “but these aren’t my brand. May I please exchange them for the dinner napkins?”
It is a charming story, but it also reminds us how much discomfort, misunderstanding, and silence have historically surrounded menstruation.
For generations, menstruation has been cloaked in euphemisms: “the curse,” “that time of the month,” or “on the rag.” In some cultures, menstruating women were isolated from their communities. Some girls were even slapped by their mothers when they experienced their first period, a disturbing custom intended to mark their passage into womanhood.
What message did these practices convey? That a natural biological process, essential to human reproduction, was somehow shameful, something to conceal rather than understand?
Our own Jewish tradition has also grappled with menstruation. The Torah describes menstruation as a state of ritual impurity (Leviticus 15:19–24), a designation within the ancient system of ritual purity that does not imply sin or moral inferiority. Traditional Judaism subsequently developed the laws of niddah, or family purity, which restrict physical intimacy between spouses during menstruation and for seven additional days, until immersion in a mikvah, a ritual bath. Many observant Jews understand these practices as meaningful expressions of holiness and spiritual discipline. Yet their existence also invites us to consider how religious teachings, cultural attitudes, and centuries of silence have influenced the ways we understand and speak about women’s bodies. As Reform Jews, we seek to engage our tradition thoughtfully, honoring its wisdom while remaining willing to question assumptions that may diminish human dignity.
Although attitudes toward menstruation have evolved, the stigma has not entirely disappeared. Today, that silence conceals another troubling reality: period poverty, the inability to afford or access basic menstrual hygiene products.
According to the 2025 State of the Period Study, nearly one-quarter of American teenagers struggle to afford menstrual products, while 45% have worn them longer than recommended because they lacked replacements. The problem extends well beyond adolescence: two in five American adults struggle to afford these basic necessities. A study of low-income women found that nearly two-thirds had been unable to afford menstrual products, with almost half forced to choose between purchasing food and these essential supplies. The consequences include missed school or work, compromised health, and a profound loss of dignity.
In the United States, federal SNAP benefits cannot be used to purchase menstrual products. For families already struggling to afford food, housing, and other necessities, these essential supplies become yet another financial burden.
Access to menstrual products is not a luxury. It is a matter of health, opportunity, and human dignity.
Why should this concern us as Jews?
Judaism teaches that every human being is created b’tzelem Elohim, in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). From this foundational belief flows the principle of kavod habriyot, the inherent dignity of every person. When someone cannot attend school, participate fully in daily life, or meet a basic bodily need because of poverty, that dignity is compromised.
Our tradition also teaches that recognizing injustice is insufficient. We are obligated to respond.
This week’s Torah portion, Lech L’cha, offers a particularly meaningful challenge. God calls Abraham to leave the familiar and venture toward an unknown future. Yet God’s promise is not simply that Abraham will be blessed. God commands him: Veheyeh b’rachah, “And you shall be a blessing” (Genesis 12:2).
To be a blessing requires more than good intentions. It requires the willingness to move beyond what is familiar and comfortable, to recognize needs we might otherwise overlook, and to act in ways that improve the lives of others.
Across North America and around the world, faith communities are answering that call.
At Temple Sinai in Stamford, Connecticut, congregants partner with Dignity Grows and other faith-based organizations four times a year, assembling hundreds of packages containing menstrual and personal hygiene products for people experiencing poverty. At Temple Beth Am in Tampa, Florida, volunteers support community Free Period Pantries, similar to Little Free Libraries, where individuals can obtain menstrual supplies discreetly and without cost.
The Free. ministry, founded by Kenzie Blackwell at the Episcopal Parish of St. John the Evangelist in Massachusetts, similarly addresses this often-overlooked need.
This work is also personal for my family. My sister-in-law Marilyn, her friend Connie, and my niece Sarah have volunteered with Days for Girls International, sewing hundreds of reusable, washable menstrual products and assembling kits for distribution to women and girls in underserved communities around the world. Their efforts help remove barriers to education, employment, and health.
Here in Chattanooga, Love, Period. of Chattanooga is doing equally important work. Established in January 2024 at St. Timothy’s Episcopal 
Church in Signal Mountain, the organization provides menstrual products to people throughout our community so that no one must forgo ordinary daily activities because these basic necessities are inaccessible.
This evening, at our Shabbat With a Purpose, organized by Mizpah’s Social Action Committee, we are delighted to welcome Dominique Gable of Love, Period. of Chattanooga. She will help us better understand the realities of period poverty in our own community and how we can make a meaningful difference.
Mizpah Congregation is also collecting menstrual hygiene products to support the work of Love, Period. of Chattanooga. I encourage you to bring a donation of these essential supplies as we join together to help ensure that no one in our community must sacrifice their health, education, or dignity because of an inability to afford them.
Perhaps the most important lesson of Lech L’cha is that Abraham’s journey begins with a single step. He does not know precisely where the journey will lead, but he understands that he has been called to move forward.
We, too, are called to take that first step: to replace silence with understanding, indifference with compassion, and good intentions with meaningful action.
A package , or several packages, of feminine hygiene products may seem like a small contribution. Yet for someone who cannot afford these basic necessities, it can mean the difference between missing school and continuing an education, between losing a day’s wages and going to work, between feeling invisible and knowing that someone cares.
We cannot eliminate poverty overnight. We can, however, make a meaningful difference in the lives of those who struggle, one act of compassion at a time.
Lech L’cha. Go forth.
Veheyeh b’rachah. And you shall be a blessing.
Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Sharon L. Sobel