A Women’s Ritual Economy: Amen Meals as a System of Material, Emotional, and Symbolic Capital

Abstract

This study proposes a novel theoretical synthesis, bridging the sociology of lived religion with economic club good theory to explore the high-commitment dynamics in domestic spheres in the analysis of “Amen meals”, a rapidly spreading ritual among Jewish women. Using a qualitative–ethnographic methodology based on 23 participant observations and 53 in-depth interviews with a diverse spectrum of Jewish women in Israel, the research examines the ways this ritual functions as a gendered religious economy. The findings identify emotional stringency as a key mechanism for communal cohesion: unlike traditional religious clubs that filter out free riders through external prohibitions, this economy demands a tariff of emotional exposure and vulnerability, where public tears serve as costly signals of commitment. These enable the participants to gain access to exclusive club goods such as social insurance and spiritual agency. The study concludes that Amen meals challenge the binary between institutional–rational and private–emotional spheres, positioning women’s ritual creativity as a mutual insurance system for risks that formal institutions fail to cover. It reveals the powerful economies operating within the lived religion of women.

1. Introduction

In a crowded living room in Israel, dozens of women sit in a circle, their faces wet with tears. To the casual observer, this scene might appear to be a spontaneous outpouring of religious emotion—a classic example of women’s spirituality defined by affect, intimacy, and non-institutional piety. However, this article argues that such an observation misses the underlying structural logic at play. What is occurring in this living room is more than a prayer group; it is also a high-stakes economic transaction.

To decipher this dynamic, I bridge two distinct theoretical bodies of work. On the one hand, scholars of lived religion (Ammerman 2013; McGuire 2008) and religious women’s agency (Avishai 2008; Barack-Fishman 1993, 2000; Mahmood 2005) have brilliantly demonstrated the ways in which women cultivate spiritual authority within domestic spheres, often redefining religious involvement through non-traditional means. However, these frameworks rarely focus on the mechanics of institutional survival. On the other hand, the economic approach to religion, specifically club good theory (Iannaccone 1992; Berman 2000), offers a powerful explanation of the ways high commitment is maintained in strict communities. However, these models have been applied almost exclusively to male-dominated hierarchies, focusing on behavioral strictures such as the sacrifice of leisure time or dress codes.

This article proposes a novel synthesis. Using Bourdieu’s (1986) forms of capital as a foundation, I demonstrate the internalization and enactment of the economic logic of the club within the female domestic sphere. I posit that the Amen meal operates on a unique principle of emotional stringency. Unlike traditional religious clubs that screen out free riders through external prohibitions, this economy demands the far more intimate tax of emotional exposure. In this market the currency is vulnerability and the public shedding of tears serves as the costly signal of commitment. Participants who pay this price gain access to exclusive club goods, such as social insurance, communal validation, and spiritual agency, which formal institutions often fail to provide.

Initially, this article establishes this theoretical integration. It then examines the ritual, providing a full description of its liturgical and social structure, followed by a brief overview of the methodological framework. The final analysis reveals the Amen meal as a robust gendered economy where, rather than simply consume religion, the women actively produce it.

1.1. Literature Review

1.1.1. Communities and the Capital Dynamics of Religious Values

Applying capital theory to studies of religion transforms our understanding of spiritual communities from insular congregations into dynamic economies of exchange. This framework relies on synthesizing three distinct forms of capital with their communal utility. Fundamentally, Bourdieu (1986) identifies these as economic capital, which is directly convertible into money; cultural capital, which exists as accumulated knowledge, competence, and embodied dispositions (habitus); and social capital, defined as the group of resources linked to a durable network of institutionalized relationships. However, these resources function within a community as both tools for individual advancement and as bonds to life in the collective. As Putnam (1993, 1994) articulates, social capital operates as a public good, generating dense networks of civic engagement characterized by generalized reciprocity and trust. In this view, religious communities are successful precisely because they convert material and cultural investments into group-sustaining mutual reliance.

In applying this economic logic specifically to the religious sphere, it becomes necessary to shift the focus from institutional power to individual agency. Verter (2003) refines these general sociological concepts into spiritual capital, treating religious knowledge and competencies as positional goods within a competitive symbolic economy. This perspective challenges the traditional view that religious capital is a monopoly of the clergy or the institution, theorizing instead, that spiritual capital is a fluid resource open to laypeople who can actively accumulate, display, and exchange—often independently of formal hierarchies. By mastering rituals, texts, and displays of piety, individuals become active producers of value, navigating a marketplace where their personal spiritual worth is continuously negotiated.

This focus on the generative capacity of the individual finds its methodological expression in the paradigm of lived religion (Ammerman 2013, 2020; McGuire 2008). This approach locates the production of spiritual capital not in the sanctuary, but in the mundane interactions of everyday life. As Ammerman (2013, 2020) demonstrates, the work of religion is accomplished through spiritual conversations, the sharing of sacred stories, and embodied practices that weave the divine into ordinary tasks. Consequently, private spaces such as the home, emerge as primary sites of religious production. It is within these intimate spheres that women, through relational labor and narrative construction, generate the spiritual currency that validates their authority and sustains the community’s parallel economy. This theoretical shift to the domestic sphere and everyday practice highlights the specific and often overlooked roles of women. While traditional frameworks focus on male-dominated hierarchies, the lens of lived religion reveals the significant additional value that women generate in these non-institutional spaces.

1.1.2. Women’s Agency and the Production of Spiritual Capital in Daily Life

Women’s religious leadership across diverse global contexts highlights their pivotal roles in asserting spiritual agency, creating new ritual forms, and navigating complex negotiations with established patriarchal structures. This scholarly focus demonstrates how women redefine their religious involvement (Avishai 2008; Mahmood 2005), often utilizing non-traditional means to cultivate spiritual authority and foster communal identity particularly when facing religious marginality (Longman 2018).

Women often ascend to prominent religious leadership roles by skillfully navigating existing power structures, leveraging elite status, and deploying personal charisma, frequently against or alongside institutional patriarchy. The contest over religious authority is frequently expressed as a struggle for control over religious time and physical space such as socio-spiritual and physical spaces segregated by gender. Within Judaism, the female religious leadership is primarily found within the Reform and Conservative movements although in recent years the phenomenon has begun to appear in the left wing of Orthodoxy (Hartman 2007). In Israeli Ultra-Orthodoxy, Rebbetzin Batsheva Kanievsky acquired exceptional influence by fulfilling the Haredi ideal of devotion and submission, supporting her husband’s intensive Torah study. Her authority was rooted in her perceived magical capabilities—her blessings and innovative segulot (magical techniques)—which were publicly affirmed by prominent male rabbis. Her role demonstrates a complex paradox wherein her religious exemption from formal Torah study incidentally functions as a source of direct spiritual power, allowing her feminine “inferiority” to translate into charismatic authority (Brown 2022).

Rituals are strategic spheres that create power relations (Bell 1992; Bynum 1987). Innovative religious and spiritual practices frequently emerge in response to feelings of exclusion or dissatisfaction within conventional religious settings (Grimes 2002; Ochs 2007). For example, women’s circles function as non-institutionalized spaces dedicated to cultivating sisterhood and exploring a new femininity defined by emotional expression and body-focused spirituality. The face-to-face, here and now interactions, build their agency (Collins 2004). These circles operate as important sites of post-secular agency that seek to cultivate a femininity holding political potential beyond individualistic self-empowerment, emphasizing community and collectivity (Longman 2018).

Beyond formal religious contexts, women who experience difficult life events lacking conventional ceremonial scripts, frequently engage in intentional ritualizing. They develop powerful, personalized ritual acts to achieve emotional closure. The individualized ritualizing practices (Sered 1992, 1993) include the creation and sharing of personal symbols and engaging in body-focused practices. The Amen meal provides a significant example of a new ritual, originating in the Israeli Ultra-Orthodox sector and rapidly spreading globally across various Jewish communities (Neriya-Ben Shahar 2015, 2018; Taylor-Guthartz 2016, 2021). As I will explain in the next chapter, the central ritualistic goal is to maximize the recitation of the word Amen in response to food blessings, driven by the belief that reciting Amen can create an angel and accelerate prayers which affect reality. This practice is characterized by individualism, personal choice, and experiential spiritual connection, exhibiting qualities associated with New Age phenomena. Furthermore, the ritual quietly subverts male halakhic hegemony by creating non-canonical time and transforming private homes into female-only, spiritual “public” spaces, thereby offering a locus for agency and critique of rabbinic authority (Neriya-Ben Shahar 2019).

While these qualitative accounts demonstrate the nature of women’s spiritual labor, they do not fully explain the structural mechanisms that sustain such intense commitment within strict communities. To understand the resilience of these enclaves and the logic behind their demanding lifestyle, we must turn to the macro-level analysis provided by the economic perspective.

1.1.3. The Economic Logic of Strictness: Risk, Trust, and the Club Model

In applying the rational choice paradigm (RCP) to religious phenomena (Iannaccone 2012; Iannaccone et al. 1998), contemporary sociological and economic inquiry have profoundly reshaped the study of religion. While acknowledging that rational choice and economic models have recently faced skepticism and significant sidelining within the sociology of religion, largely due to their perceived focus on male-dominated institutional structures, this article contends that their theoretical power is important. By interweaving these models with the paradigm of lived religion, this study bridges the false binary between the rational and the emotional, demonstrating how economic logic remains a vital tool for understanding the structures of women’s domestic rituals. This approach posits that religious activity is a product of rational choice and market dynamics. It treats individuals as rational consumers who maximize utility, and religious organizations as producers which maximize institutional welfare, in response to technological and regulatory innovations and constraints (Iannaccone 2012; Iannaccone et al. 1998). The RCP thus challenges historical perspectives which, most particularly within stricter groups, frequently dismissed religious commitment as inherently primitive, irrational, or pathological (Iannaccone et al. 1998).

A key contribution of the economic framework is the club-theory model, which offers a functional explanation for the strength and persistence of highly demanding or strict religious organizations (Iannaccone 2012). Collective worship, mutual support, communal enthusiasm, and other religious practices and benefits, can be considered collective goods and are therefore susceptible to the free rider problem. Individuals are tempted to enjoy these shared benefits without contributing fully, which ultimately dilutes the group’s resources and quality (Iannaccone 1994).

Strict demands in the forms of prohibitions and sacrifices, are understood as costly mechanisms designed to mitigate this free riding threat. Prohibitions, such as dietary laws or dress codes, impose penalties that limit members’ involvement in alternative secular activities, effectively taxing non-group engagement and thereby raising participation levels within the group. Sacrifices, defined as costly or irreversible acts—like the destruction of resources or the permanent limitation of options—function as signals of commitment, allowing the group to screen out the uncommitted and exclude freeriders. Consequently, groups that demand greater sacrifices often thrive because the perceived collective benefits outweigh the personal costs for committed members, a dynamic that applies not only to religious traditions but also to groups like military units and gangs. Empirical evidence consistently demonstrates that members of stricter denominations exhibit higher rates of church attendance, contributions, and affiliation, while simultaneously showing less involvement in competing secular organizations (Iannaccone 1994, 2012; Berman 2000).

The Ultra-Orthodox (Haredi) community in Israel provides a critical case study illustrating how the club-theory model predicts extreme behavioral responses, particularly when institutional structures are affected by external economic interventions, specifically government subsidies (Neriya-Ben Shahar et al. 2024). Historically, Ultra-Orthodoxy arose as a stringent reaction to the incursion of markets and rising secular wages in the nineteenth century, which threatened the cohesion of traditional Jewish mutual insurance systems. Today, the community maintains itself as a robust mutual insurance network where access to extensive non-market charitable services is excludable and contingent upon club membership. The introduction of government support, such as stipends and child allowances, amplify the behavioral anomalies which in turn, increase the attractiveness of club membership. This intervention leads directly to subsidized sacrifice: since the subsidy makes membership more desirable, the community must impose a larger, more costly signal, to effectively screen out potential free riders (Berman 2000).

The high cost of membership in such strict enclaves raises a fundamental market question: given the immense sacrifices required, how can believers be certain that their investment will yield the promised spiritual returns? A central challenge in the economics of religion is the inherent uncertainty regarding the quality of religious goods. In contrast to search qualities (qualities with known value before purchase) or experience qualities (the value of these qualities can only be ascertained following consumption), religious promises, such as divine intervention or salvation, often embody credence qualities (Darby and Karni 1973) in which their reliability is unverifiable through standard use, neither before nor after their consumption. Alternate outside information is necessary to determine their value. In this analogy, this means that one would need outside evidence of the actual impact of these religious rituals, and more broadly, of the existence of a higher power. As certainty of this among living human beings is not possible, this uncertainty creates a market failure: how can believers trust that their investments in ritual practices will yield returns? Iannaccone et al. (1998) argue that to mitigate this risk, consumers of religion rely on signals of commitment from their peers, such as dedication to the cause, and a rational wager that the costs they pay in life will be outweighed by the benefits of religion and its practices. In the absence of institutional guarantees, the visible intensity of the ritual and the accumulated narratives of past successes (miracles) serve as the necessary data to validate the worth of the product (religious rituals and practices).

This literature review has established the theoretical infrastructure for a novel synthesis. It bridges the sociological analysis of capital, grounded in Bourdieu (1986) and Putnam (1993) with the economic logic of religious clubs and stringency, as formulated by Iannaccone (1994, 2012) and Berman (2000). While these frameworks frequently operate in parallel, their integration is essential for decoding the specific case of the Amen meal. This ritual serves as a unique vantage point as it demonstrates the ways in which the club good model, typically applied to male-dominated institutions, can be powerfully “grafted” on to the domestic sphere of women’s lived religion (Ammerman 2013, 2020; McGuire 2008). This intersection reveals that the Amen meal functions as both an act of devotion, and a market where emotional labor is rationalized, measured, and exchanged. The following chapter will be dedicated to describing this ritual and grounding this theoretical argument in the practice.

1.2. Description of the Ritual

The Amen meal ritual has been extensively described in previous research (e.g., Neriya-Ben Shahar 2015, 2018, 2019; Taylor-Guthartz 2016, 2021). It is a religious-ritualistic practice that began in Israel at the beginning of the millennium, spreading from there to other places. It is practiced among a broad spectrum of Jewish women from the ultra-Orthodox to secular communities, as explained in the methods section. The ritual has a specific goal: maximizing the number of blessings one recites, and thereby the number of Amens said.

The ritual structure (Turner 1969) is rooted in Jewish halachic law, which prescribes different blessings for different kinds of food in a strict order of precedence: Borei Minei Mezonot (on cake or crackers from grains), Borei Pri HaGefen (on wine or grape juice), Borei Pri HaEtz (on fruits that grow on trees), Borei Pri HaAdama (literally “fruit of the earth,” on low-growing fruits and vegetables other than grains), and Shehacol Nehiya Bidvaro (all other edibles), creating the Hebrew mnemonic acronym MAGA ESH (in Hebrew, מגע אש, touch of fire). The primary reason for this order is to maximize the number of blessings each person can say. Since some blessings contain others—for example, the blessing for fruits of the earth could be made over things that grow on trees, because the trees themselves grow in the ground—the fruit of the tree is blessed and eaten before the fruit of the earth, so as not to miss the opportunity to say both blessings. According to Jewish law, if one hears another’s blessing, one must answer “Amen” (Shulchan Aruch–Orach Haim 215:2).

In practice, a number of women gather for a meal, supply themselves with various types of foods, sit in a circle, and recite the blessings in the order of precedence set by Jewish law. Each woman takes a turn reciting a blessing, the others respond “Amen,” and the woman tastes the food she has blessed. At the end of each circuit, the woman who blesses last recites a Yehi Ratzon prayer (“May it be God’s will” to grant a special benefit or benediction to a particular person). While many prayers begin with Yehi Ratzon, these prayers were specifically developed for Amen meals. Each Yehi Ratzon prayer of the Amen meal has an associative link to the relevant benediction. The blessing for baked goods is considered to be related to earning a livelihood; that for wine is related to marriage; for fruits, it is related to children and fertility; for vegetables, to health; and for food and drinks not covered by the other categories, to salvation and general wishes.

Names may be inserted in the prayer, “especially for…,” and the woman reciting the Yehi Ratzon usually inserts the name of the person to whom she is dedicating her prayer. At the end, all the women respond “Amen” and, after a moment’s silence, various women begin to recite, in no particular order, the names of people who require assistance in the same sphere, and the other women respond “Amen.” In some groups, the calling out of names leads to the revelation of a personal story (a family member who needs work or a child who is ill). The woman telling her story often bursts into tears and is comforted by the group.

In most cases, no one explicitly decides who will recite the Yehi Ratzon prayer; a woman simply says: “I wish to go last in this circuit.” In all but the very large groups, the women sit in a circle and maintain eye contact, making it easy to notice when someone is experiencing difficulty. The open space in the center allows free access for the purpose of supportive touch. Beyond this basic model, Amen rituals incorporate a variety of other components, such as candle-lighting, narrating stories of miracles and “salvations” following previous rituals, halachic learning, reading Psalms, learning Torah portions, and singing religious songs (Neriya-Ben Shahar 2015, 2018; Taylor-Guthartz 2016, 2021). Some also include another renewed ritual—taking of challah in public (El-Or 2006). This modularity reflects the adaptability of the ritual to the cultural backgrounds and needs of participants.

The gatherings range from large-scale events led by charismatic women in synagogues or public halls to intimate meetings led by female religious figures in private homes. In most cases a host invites a consistent circle of friends or opens her home to a broader group of participants. Sometimes, however, when rituals are conducted in community halls, they may include dozens or even hundreds of participants. Across all settings, the rituals in Israel are presented as distinctly female, cooperative, structured and intimate.

There are several ritual roles: host, leader (sometimes a rebbetzin—rabbanit), the last to bless, and women responsible for specific foods. The position of the last to bless, holds particular symbolic prestige and is associated with unique spiritual power. Food plays a prominent role in the ritual structure. Participants bring a variety of foods including fruits, salads, baked goods, and sometimes gifts for the host. These offerings operate both as material contributions as well as expressions of emotional investment, social connection, and symbolic value (Mauss 1990). Miracle stories comprise a key component of the ritual experience. Ethnographic data has documented dozens of narratives describing improvements in health, finances, relationships, or matchmaking following participation. These stories engender emotional resonance, reinforce the perceived efficacy of the ritual, and strengthen communal ties among participants.

While fifteen years have passed since the initial data collection in the spring of 2011, the ritual exhibits significant durability. In the years leading up to the COVID-19 pandemic, these gatherings continued, although their frequency appeared to diminish. However, since the outbreak of the war on 7 October 2023, there has been a notable resurgence in the prevalence of these rituals. Social media platforms increasingly feature invitations to Amen meals and Taking of Challah ceremonies, particularly those involving the mothers of hostages. Furthermore, the perceived efficacy of these acts is underscored by contemporary miracle narratives, such as claims by some rebbetzins that the rescue of the first female observer from Gaza was the direct result of a Taking of Challah ritual performed by her mother.

2. Materials and Methods

2.1. Research Method and Data Collection

This study employs a qualitative-ethnographic-feminist methodology (Reinharz 1992), combining two primary research methods: participant observations and in-depth interviews. In the spring of 2011, I attended and participated in 23 Amen meals that took place throughout Israel. The participant observations ranged from 1 to 5 h each, as I made a point of arriving punctually or even early—contrary to the typical Israeli custom of arriving late—and usually remained until most of the women had departed. When possible, I maintained a field diary during the ritual itself, documenting additional observations upon returning home. Most of the observations were digitally recorded, although some women and organizers did not permit recording but did allow me to take written notes.

In addition to participant observations, I conducted 53 in-depth interviews with women who had participated in Amen rituals. The interviews explored fundamental topics including the experiences, perceptions, attitudes, and emotions of these women during the ritual, with particular attention to their first encounter as well as subsequent participations. I encouraged the women to share their narratives—many recounted miraculous stories or, alternatively, deeply painful accounts that they had heard or shared during the meals. I also inquired about the conformity of the ritual with halacha and perspectives of their Rabbis on the practice.

Most interviews were conducted in the homes of the participants, although some women preferred to remain and meet at the conclusion of the ritual. The interviews lasted between 40 and 90 min. All interviews and most observations were recorded and meticulously transcribed. The resulting data were analyzed in line with grounded theory (Strauss and Corbin 1990, 1994). Using this approach enabled themes and patterns to organically emerge from the data, rather than imposing predetermined theoretical frameworks.

2.2. Population and Sample

My participant observations and personal interviews for this research demonstrate that the members of the population who chose to participate in the Amen meal ritual were women from a broad spectrum of Jewish communities and backgrounds. I observed women from the Ultra-Orthodox “Toldoth Aharon” community in Mea-Shearim sitting alongside secular women at the same Amen meal. I participated in Amen rituals where the food was not kosher and others in which everything was under strict supervision. While observing these rituals, I did not personally meet or interview women from the Reform or Conservative movements. Thus, the Jewish women in this research project comprise a broad spectrum of women who self-define (in the interviews and my observations) as ultra-Orthodox, modern Orthodox, traditional, and secular. In Israel/Hebrew, the accepted measurement (Friedman et al. 2011) offers five options for self-definition: “Do you define yourself as secular (Hiloni)/traditional-religious (Masorti-Dati)/traditional-not religious (Masorti-lo Dati)/religious (Dati)/ultra-Orthodox (Haredi)?”

Data collection utilized snowball sampling (Lee 1993). The participants themselves facilitated the creation of links to their friends and provided updates regarding additional ceremonies being held in various locations. This approach allowed me to move organically from meal to meal and participant to participant, extending my research network. Many women provided me with the telephone numbers of their friends at the end of the interview; some even called them in my presence to inform them that I would be contacting them. Freida asked her mother to invite me to the weekly Amen meal in Mea-Shearim, the most ultra-Orthodox neighborhood in Jerusalem, resulting in a warm invitation and welcome. I also contacted formal organizers whose names had been mentioned by participants, requesting permission to join their public events. These organizers posed numerous questions about my background and research before agreeing to share their schedules with me.

Of the 53 women interviewed, 27 (50%) self-defined as being from the ultra-Orthodox sector, 18 (34%) as modern Orthodox, 3 (6%) as traditional, and 5 (10%) as secular. The multiple and varied voices of the Amen meal participants are recorded in other publications about the Amen ritual (Neriya-Ben Shahar 2015, 2018; Taylor-Guthartz 2016, 2021). The women’s names have been changed to other typical ultra-Orthodox or modern Orthodox names, according to their backgrounds.

The women interviewed represent diverse geographic locations, age groups, ethnic origins, and occupations. They came from the center and the periphery of Israel, from Be’er Sheva in the south to Haifa in the north, from large cities, towns, suburbs, and small settlements. Their ages range between 20 and 75. Most of them, 51 (96%), were born in Israel, while two (4%) were born in the United States. The ethnic division is based on the women’s own self-definition: 30 (57%) women of Sephardic descent and 22 (42%) of Ashkenazi descent. They represented a variety of occupations. Most worked in the educational system: kindergarten teachers, elementary and high school teachers, and two educational supervisors. Other occupations included students, sports coaches, an architect, a graphic designer, housewives, a university administrative worker, a health secretary, a small business owner, a bookkeeper, a cleaning lady, a salesclerk, an alternative health therapist, a group leader (mancha), and a social worker.

2.3. Methodological Limitations

Although the snowball sampling method enabled extensive access to diverse Amen meal participants, this sample cannot be considered statistically representative. Nevertheless, I attempted as far as possible to collect representative data by carrying out the participant observations and interviews in diverse geographic and social settings. The observations were conducted in different locations and contexts, and the women interviewed reflect a variety of age groups, socioeconomic backgrounds, levels of religious observance, ethnic origins, and geographic locations. The study did not include women from the Reform or Conservative movements, which limits the full spectrum of Jewish women’s experiences with this ritual.

There were inherent tensions in my data collection and interpretation due to my position as both an insider and critical observer. I continuously sought to address this reflexively throughout the research process. My own academic and personal positions are complex yet relevant to this study. I self-define as a radical feminist and commandment-observing Jewish woman, using neither the term “religious” nor “Orthodox.” I was raised in a nationalist ultra-Orthodox family and community (symbolized by the yeshiva known as Merkaz Harav) and have many ultra-Orthodox family members and friends. During my academic studies I became a feminist and joined the partnership minyan community.

This complexity has proved both advantageous and challenging throughout the study. From a practical standpoint, my relationships provided easy access to Amen rituals. I began by asking my Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox family members and friends about them and received many personal invitations. My modest attire—hair-covering and long skirts—aligned with that of a religious woman, enabled even ultra-Orthodox women to welcome me into their homes. When I informed organizers that I myself am religious, they invited me to join and introduced me to other women. However, I found myself conflicted during the rituals, praying and crying with deep emotion alongside the participants while simultaneously being alerted by my feminist–academic consciousness to the critical aspects of the situation. I addressed this conflict by turning down the volume on my feminist–academic thoughts during the ritual itself but carefully listening to these later during the qualitative analysis of the rich data.

3. Results and Discussion

3.1. Gendered Religious Capital in Amen Meals

Amen meals constitute a ritual field in which women generate, accumulate, and convert multiple forms of capital. Using Bourdieu’s (1986) framework of economic, cultural, social, and symbolic capital, combined with insights emerging from the empirical materials, the analysis demonstrates how the ritual functions as a dynamic ritual marketplace where resources circulate and identities are shaped. The process begins with economic capital, which is both an expenditure and a strategic starting point. The financial investment required for food preparation, hospitality, and hosting is systematically transformed into other forms of value. Elaborate dishes, the aesthetic arrangement of the space, and the body’s physical presence function as various forms of capital within the group. The table, food, and supportive touch serve as active channels for religious action, grounding the economy in everyday acts of care where the material and the spiritual are continuously converted into one another.

Cultural capital emerges through ritual knowledge and competence. The strict order of blessings requires a mastery that secular women develop through repeated participation, forming a shared religious language that binds participants together (Neriya-Ben Shahar 2015). However, this capital is also embodied; women describe themselves as connected, spiritual, and attuned to the experience. These embodied sensibilities function as a feminine habitus that renders the ritual intuitive and natural. Through these exchanges, women construct identities that blend doing religion and doing gender, creating rituals that are simultaneously traditional, innovative, and deeply personal (Neriya-Ben Shahar 2022).

The most prominent engine of this economy is social capital, as it creates dense networks of trust, obligation, and reciprocity. Women repeatedly describe the meals as spaces that generate instant intimacy among strangers and deepen longstanding relationships (Taylor-Guthartz 2016, 2021). A crucial component of this capital is the suspension of judgment. This non-judgmental support functions as a club good (Iannaccone 1994; Berman 2000), providing a safe harbor that binds members through acceptance rather than obligation.

Crucially, the data also reveal emotional–spiritual capital as another, essential form of capital for understanding Amen meals. In this marketplace, vulnerability functions as currency; emotional labor becomes capital when public tears signal sincerity. This exposure initiates a chain reaction in which others respond with validation, deepening trust, and converting symbolic weight into social capital. Finally, this accumulated solidarity is directed upward to become spiritual capital—a collective power believed to be capable of what Ruchama called “shaking the heavens”. Thus, simple acts such as passing tissues acquire disproportionate symbolic weight, serving as catalysts for divine intervention. As Tehila reflected on a miraculous conception: “We just moved the tissues between us… she opened herself up [she told the group about her challenging fertility issues]… and now she has twins.” This vividly illustrates an economy where vulnerability is the currency and intimate care is the engine of production.

This accumulation of value culminates in symbolic capital. Charismatic leaders and organizers acquire reputational authority grounded in stories of miracles, that attribute successful outcomes—such as healing or conception—to their guidance (Neriya-Ben Shahar 2019). Symbolic capital also attaches to the participants themselves; attending becomes a marker of feminine piety. This dynamic fundamentally reshapes religious authority, moving away from institutional hierarchies toward a relational competence enacted through the ritual’s circular structure. As Yona stated, “They make the miracles… their actions accomplish something,” framing the ritual as a self-sustaining economy where women’s actions are the direct cause of spiritual production.

The women described the rituals as an environment where all the participating women are equal. According to Tamar, “there is no competition, no conflict,” and the visibility of the circle “makes it possible to see when someone struggles.” The fluid boundaries of this economy create a low-barrier entry point, allowing even women outside institutional Judaism to participate. As Maayan, a secular participant explained her decision to attend: “Everyone has her own package of sorrows… so anything I can do, I’ll do.” Crucially, the ethnographic evidence suggests that the spiritual economy functions uniformly across diverse social strata. Regardless of age, class, education, or levels of religious adherence, the shared emotional–feminine connection serves as a bridge that dissolves conventional social boundaries. In these gatherings, secular, traditional, religious, and ultra-Orthodox women often engage in profound mutual support, characterized by physical proximity and shared liturgical acts. Women who are unfamiliar with formal prayer often seek guidance from more observant peers, such as asking to find a specific ‘helpful’ chapter in the Book of Psalms. This lack of differentiation reinforces the argument that emotional vulnerability is a universal currency within this ritual, effectively neutralizing socioeconomic and religious disparities in favor of a collective ritual authority.

This inclusivity validates the women’s specific mode of religiosity, positioning emotional authenticity as superior to abstract male logic. As Sara asserted, “Women have more pure belief. They don’t need to understand the logic. If Amen meals make miracles, that’s what they’ll do!” By authorizing their own spiritual worth, women effectively sustain an independent economy where intuition and care are the ultimate sources of power.

3.2. Ritual Economy: Amen Meals as Systems of Religious Exchange

This study proposes that Amen meals are best understood not merely as devotional gatherings or sites of feminist resistance, but as a richly layered gendered religious economy. By examining these rituals through an economic lens, this study develops existing models of women’s agency (Avishai 2008; Mahmood 2005) by demonstrating that agency is not only a form of piety or resistance but also a pragmatic management of spiritual and social assets. This model updates agency frameworks by illustrating how women actively seize the means of spiritual production to navigate existential risks, thereby framing religious agency as a form of rational economic labor.

When analyzed through the theoretical frameworks of the economics of religion—specifically club good theory and the analysis of religious risk (Iannaccone 1994, 1998, 2012; Berman 2000; Berman et al. 2018), alongside scholarship on lived religion (Ammerman 2013, 2020; McGuire 2008) and women’s ritual creativity, these rituals emerge as structured systems of exchange rather than merely simple prayer events. A unique market is established within the intimate, emotionally saturated spaces where these women gather to bless, share stories, and support one another. In this economy, participants consume much more than religion. They actively create, circulate, and convert multiple forms of capital, including emotional, symbolic, spiritual, and social and demonstrate that these events function as complex mechanisms which reflect and extend established economic theories.

However, in contrast to formal religious framework, formal doctrine, and behavioral stringency, the economy of the Amen meal is driven by emotional labor and gendered relational practices. While many religious customs arise spontaneously from social needs, the Amen meal operates within a domestic sphere that functions alongside established institutional structures. At these, women engage in meaningful spiritual labor that transforms vulnerability, narrative practices, symbolic gestures, and embodied care into valuable forms of religious capital. By converting everyday emotions into spiritual goods within a market characterized by high uncertainty, these women generate religious value through intimacy. Ultimately, this process allows them to turn shared vulnerability into collective religious agency, authorizing their own spiritual worth and sustaining the community outside the bounds of formal institutional structures.

The Amen meal position women as primary producers who have seized the means of spiritual production. Participants consistently frame their activity as productive work owned and managed by women, rather than passive attendance. As Rivka explained, the ritual arises “from our female side… something that we own, we believe in, we do”. This sense of ownership drives participation. Rachel noted that she attends “when I feel that I need power,” explicitly linking the ritual to the acquisition of spiritual strength. By defining the event as “something we do,” women transform their role from recipients of blessing into active agents who generate and sustain the ritual economy.

This spiritual labor is driven by a clear logic of cause and effect, reflecting a rational choice model in which agents invest resources to maximize spiritual utility (Iannaccone 1992). Women understand their prayers as targeted interventions in reality. As Hodaya articulated: “You can make a difference… you recite names, you pray for them”. This economy is fully embodied; the table serves as a locus of transformation where food and bodily gestures serve as markers of investment. The women validate their work as emotionally demanding and collectively productive, activating spiritual power not by suspending material reality, but by actively working within it.

A fundamental challenge within this religious market is that spiritual goods function as credence qualities (Darby and Karni 1973), commodities whose quality remains unverified even after consumption. When a woman prays for a sick child, she has no way of knowing immediately whether the transaction has been effective, creating a high degree of religious risk (Iannaccone et al. 1998). In the absence of institutional guarantees, the Amen meal mitigates this uncertainty through the sheer intensity of the affective experience. The emotional high of the ritual serves as a tangible proxy for spiritual efficacy. The participants interpret the palpable energy, described by Ruchama as “shaking the heavens,” as empirical evidence that the channel to the divine is open. This mechanism converts abstract promises of salvation into a felt reality. As Riki summarized, “We are connected to the spiritual by the material.” By grounding the spiritual in embodied experiences such as crying, hugging, and tasting, these women reduce the cognitive dissonance associated with uncertainty. Essentially, they feel the prayer working, and in this economy, feeling is believing.

The logic of Amen meals aligns closely with club good theory, which posits that groups thrive when they offer goods that are both collectively and selectively accessible (Iannaccone 1994). However, while thriving religious groups typically maintain commitment by imposing behavioral stringency, visible costs such as distinct dress and dietary restrictions that screen out uncommitted members (Berman 2000), the Amen meal introduces the novel category of emotional stringency. Here, the cost of entry is paid not in abstention from prohibited acts, but in the willingness to dissolve emotional boundaries. The ritual does not impose doctrinal constraints but instead mobilizes vulnerability as the primary pathway into the sacred. As Lea noted, the efficacy of the ritual relies on this exposure: “Women reveal their emotions and what they had in their hearts, and that is what makes the prayers so powerful.”

This requirement to strip away defenses functions as a mechanism to solve the collective action problem of free riding. Just as financial donations signal commitment in other contexts, the public shedding of tears and the sharing of intimate pain serve here as a costly signal (Berman 2000), verifying that a participant is a full stakeholder rather than a mere tourist in the circle of pain. This emotional exposure creates safety, intimacy, and shared meaning of all club goods, which remain available only to those willing to pay the price. Tova describes how the emotional contagion serves as the validation of this transaction: “Tears fell freely from my eyes… and when I opened them, I saw tears on other women’s faces. When I saw the tears, I understood the power of the blessing.” In this economy, tears are not merely sentimental, they are the currency that proves total investment in the group’s spiritual enterprise.

I must add here that I myself shed many tears during this research. I cried through almost every story, understanding that as a sensitive person in a deeply emotional moment, it did not make sense to try to control myself. I was there not only as a participant-observer, but also as a human being in the presence of the pain and suffering of other human beings. When some of the rebbetzins lit candles and turned on emotional music, I found myself also crying for my friends, my family, my challenges, and my own pain.

Amen meals also function as a robust internal welfare system, echoing Berman’s (2000) analysis of religious groups as providers of informal support. However, unlike traditional mutual aid societies that distribute material resources, the goods circulated here are affective and spiritual. The women bring profound personal hardships that often fall outside formal support frameworks such as infertility, illness, and acute loneliness, and receive structured forms of communal care. As Rina testified, this emotional exchange provides a vital social safety net; the ritual “helped her [friend] more than all the other help she got; she felt she could start her life again.” Thus, these gatherings help stabilize the psychological lives of participants by redistributing emotional resources.

This system relies on high-commitment internal service provision, a factor Berman et al. (2018) emphasize as crucial for group cohesion. They described the availability of low-cost, family-friendly social services—such as schools, hospitals, and day care centers staffed by nuns—which reduce the time and resources required for parents to raise children. In this context, the infrastructure is maintained entirely by women’s relational labor, including hosting, comforting, storytelling, and guiding prayer. Dvora captured this intense engagement, noting that the women are “always energetic, always organized.” The safety created by this gendered specialization allows for deep disclosure; for instance, Hannah described how a meal became a “space of support and inclusion” where, for the first time “women dared… to speak about their experiences of violence.” In these rituals, the women utilize and activate their innate emotional competencies to create alternative structures of care where institutional solutions fail.

This welfare system secures member loyalty through a unique logic of non-judgmental care. Unlike formal religious communities, which often impose strict moral scrutiny, the Amen meal offers a space of unconditional support. One description highlighted this rare commodity as noted by Esther: “No critical words, no advice—just warm care and support added to prayers from the depth of their hearts.” In a society where women are constantly evaluated by their performance as mothers, wives, and religious practitioners, this suspension of judgment becomes an invaluable club good (Iannaccone 1994; Berman 2000). It functions as a safe harbor, a gift that binds members to the group through acceptance rather than obligation.

These dynamics underlie the ritual’s distinct emotional economy, where recognition, empathy, and presence function as tangible goods in the religious sphere. Unlike hierarchical interactions such as professional therapy or rabbinic counsel, these gatherings provide lateral and reciprocal support. Collective emotional synchronization intensifies the power of the ritual, creating moments when the atmosphere becomes charged and the recitation of blessings aligns multiple bodies in a unified rhythm. Women perceive this unity as spiritually potent; as Ruchama described, “We were more than a hundred women sitting together… we made a big impression in heaven… it shakes the very heavens.” Her account ascribes divine responsiveness into the collective experience, reinforcing the idea that emotional unity provides a force that enhances efficacy. Within this economy, emotional exposure is the required investment, and the return is the restoration of agency and the validation of the ability to feel deeply powerful, in a world in which they often feel essentially powerless. This reciprocity ensures the ritual’s durability; women return to participate in a market where vulnerability is consistently converted into strength.

However, while Amen meals cultivate deep intimacy, they also generate social surveillance, illustrating that there is no economy without cost and no such thing as a free gift. The profound support offered in the circle comes at a specific cost: the demand for emotional transparency. Women describe that their ability to observe one another’s faces, posture, and tears increases their empathy and enables them to check for sincerity. These observations enable them to “read” the spiritual state of other participants, ensuring that the collective goods—miracles and solidarity—are earned through visible engagement. In this context, emotional withdrawal is not merely a personal choice but rather a failure to pay the ritual’s price and is interpreted as a lack of sincerity. Thus, just as strict religious communities monitor behavioral conformity, Amen meals monitor emotional authenticity, turning expressiveness into a mandatory moral category.

3.3. Return on Investment: Miracle Narratives as Economic Data

Miracle narratives deepen the economic logic of the Amen meal, functioning as essential feedback loops that sustain the internal market of the ritual. Following Iannaccone’s (1998) argument that perceived returns are critical for maintaining religious commitment, these narratives do not merely recount events but structurally link ritual investments to tangible outcomes. By articulating a direct causal relationship between the intensity of emotional labor and specific life changes, these accounts validate the “utility” of the ritual. They transform the gathering from a passive devotional event into a productive engine where spiritual inputs are understood to yield distinct, observable outputs.

Within this economy, miracles are rarely described as vague blessings; but rather presented as returns on investment that justify the high cost of emotional exposure. This accumulation of “proof” reinforces the expectation of efficacy, encouraging continued participation and ensuring that the cycle of investment and return remains active. The sharing of these narratives is essentially an audit which serves to highlight the effectiveness of the ritual, proving the real-world value of their communal collective spiritual currency.

In the realm of fertility and physical survival, the link between ritual input and real-world output is drawn with startling directness. The results are tracked meticulously and often presented as proof of the ritual’s efficacy. Efrat, a fertility nurse, for instance, offered a precise accounting of the group’s power, reporting that following a single prayer gathering, “Five of the women gave birth. Five!” This agentive power extends to medically impossible scenarios, reinforcing the belief that the group can alter biological reality. One particularly dramatic account, recounted by Moria concerned a fetus diagnosed in utero without limbs; following an Amen meal, the baby was born “completely healthy”. Similarly, Chava described her life-threatening birth complication where her “immediate sense that something was wrong,” was countered by the group’s spiritual intervention, and resulted in the child’s survival against medical odds.

The transactional nature of this economy, where emotional labor acts as a currency paid in exchange for life, is perhaps most visible in the narrative of Talya, a secular woman recovering from cancer. Her story unfolded over two distinct points in time, illustrating a clear “contract” with the divine. The first Amen meal she attended took place immediately after her diagnosis, serving as the site of her plea and investment; the second meal, which was observed in this study, was the fulfillment of her vow after receiving a clean bill of health. Talya drew a direct causal link between her initial emotional expenditure and her remission: “I cried through the entire [first] ritual… Last week I got confirmation. This is the Amen meal I promised.” The logic here is explicit and binding: Talya “paid” in tears during the crisis, and having “received” life, she returned to settle the spiritual debt, validating the mechanism for the entire community.

The ritual’s economy is equally effective in the domain of relationships, ranging from matchmaking to the healing of trauma. Stories of matches often highlight the speed of the response as evidence of divine attention; Miriam recounted, “The meal was on Sunday. On Tuesday her friend called—she had been offered a match… That was not by chance.” Yet, the “miracle” is not always external; often, it is the restoration of the woman’s own emotional capacity. In a poignant case of a young woman, Shiri, abandoned by her fiancé just days before their wedding, the ritual provided a container for unexpressed grief. Initially frozen and unable to react to the trauma, she was approached by Ruth, a participant, who simply asked, “May I give you a hug?” This act of inclusion shattered her paralysis. Shiri started to cry, perhaps the first good cry after this terrible time. Here, the return on investment was not a groom, but the recovery of her ability to feel, and the reintegration of a marginalized woman back into the circle of communal support.

Finally, this ritual economy is deeply embedded in the material necessities of livelihood, challenging the notion that women’s spiritual requests are confined to the emotional, relational, medical, or reproductive. Financial stability is frequently interpreted here as a direct dividend of ritual participation. In these narratives, the women, frequently the breadwinners of their family, also position themselves as the “breadwinners of divine grace”; their spiritual labor is understood to secure the material prosperity of the household. This dynamic was vividly illustrated by Naomi who described how her niece, after reciting the Mezonot blessing, reversed a seemingly inevitable professional failure: she “was supposed to be fired. After the Amen meal… she was not fired—she got more hours.” Similarly, Elisheva noted that following a ritual, her husband “suddenly received a new job offer out of the blue.” These stories demonstrate that these women map economic transformations onto spiritual participation, explicitly interpreting financial outcomes—whether retaining a job or finding new employment—as the direct recompense for their ritual investment.

I argue that beyond specific emotional transactions, the Amen meal operates through a “narrative economy” that accumulates value over time. Each retelling of a miracle—whether a medical recovery, a sudden job offer, or a successful match—contributes to a collective “reservoir of meaning.” When Nechama declares that a match made shortly after a ritual “was not by chance,” she is not merely reporting an event but aligning her biography with the group’s established patterns. This repetitive circulation of stories creates a communal ledger of crises and resolutions, generating symbolic capital that sustains the community. The ritual thus functions as a temporal structure: it is not a singular event but a continuum where past miracles validate present investments, ensuring that the spiritual infrastructure remains solvent even during periods of individual doubt.

This structure also functions as a robust system of affective insurance, extending Berman’s (2000) analysis of religious mutual aid beyond material financial support. Women bring uninsurable risks to the table, including infertility, loneliness, and domestic abuse. The group acts as a risk-pooling mechanism, distributing the weight of these individual burdens across the collective. This dynamic transforms private traumas into shared concerns, creating space for sharing difficult experiences. By providing a safety net for existential insecurities that money cannot resolve, the ritual creates a form of welfare that validates the participants’ reliance on one another rather than on external institutions.

4. Conclusions: The Economy of Emotion

This study offers a radical rereading of the Amen meal, proposing that what might appear to be a folk ritual or a simple gathering of women who pray, is in fact a rational, and highly structured religious economy. By grafting the club good model and economic theories of strictness onto the domestic sphere of lived religion, the findings reveal that women have not merely adapted to formal religious hierarchies—they have seized a means of spiritual production. Furthermore, the conceptualization of the Amen meal as a ritual economy contributes to the theoretical framework of women’s agency by revealing that high-commitment dynamics are maintained through emotional stringency rather than institutional oversight. This shift suggests that agency in lived religion is operationalized through the conversion of shared vulnerability into collective religious authority, offering a more nuanced understanding of how women generate value and power within and beyond formal religious structures.

The central insight of this research is the identification of emotional strictness as a mechanism of cohesion. While the literature argued that religious clubs filter out free riders through rigid dress codes, distinct language, or the sacrifice of leisure time, the Amen meal economy demands an additional, different currency. The cost of entry is paid not only through the display of economic and symbolic capital—manifested in elaborate hosting and aesthetic presentation—but more crucially through emotional exposure. This tax ensures that the collective goods generated—intimacy, validation, and hope remain exclusive to those fully invested. In this market, tears are redefined: rather than a sign of weakness or loss of control, these emotional displays function as a calculated social signal that proves commitment and solvency.

Furthermore, the ritual functions as a robust mutual insurance system for risks that formal institutions fail to cover. Facing uninsurable existential threats—infertility, marital crisis, loneliness, and domestic abuse—women create a risk-pooling mechanism where relational labor acts as the premium. The miracle narratives serve as the essential “economic data,” proving to the investors (the participants) that the system yields tangible returns on investment, whether in the form of a healthy baby, a match, or financial recovery. Thus, the Amen meal proves that women’s spirituality is neither ethereal nor passive; it is a pragmatic engine for managing reality.

While this study provides a comprehensive analysis of the economic logic of the ritual, it is not without limitations. First, the use of snowball sampling, while necessary for accessing intimate domestic spaces, means the sample is not statistically representative of the entire Jewish female population in Israel. Second, the study did not include women from the Reform or Conservative movements, and thus the findings remain specific to the demographic sectors covered in the sample. Finally, the researcher’s positionality creates an inherent tension as she wavers between the insider status of a believing woman who cries with her subjects, and the outsider status of a critical feminist scholar. However, it is precisely this tension which facilitated the decoding of emotional nuances which might otherwise have been missed by a detached observer.

The theoretical synthesis proposed here—applying rational choice and economic models to the “soft” world of women’s spirituality—opens fertile ground for future research. First, further studies should test the emotional strictness model in other female-dominated rituals, both within Judaism and in other faiths. Do other women’s circles utilize vulnerability as a mechanism to prevent free riding? Second, since economic models (such as club theory) have traditionally been reserved for analyzing male-dominated institutional hierarchies, under the assumption that they operate rationally, there is a profound need for further integration of economic theories into studies of gender and religion. Future research would demonstrate how domestic, emotional, and embodied religious practices are equally governed by logics of exchange, investment, and capital accumulation. By doing so, scholars can continue to deconstruct the false binary between “male/rational/institutional” and “female/emotional (defined as irrational)/private,” to reveal the powerful economies operating within the lived religion of women.