Immahlady prepared a dvar Torah that she shared with me. And I feel I have to share it with you. Although we have just said goodbye to Purim, we are unfortunately still reading headlines about Amalek every day. I just read about a disturbing incident of disunity in my former community, and I think that my friend has addressed it beautifully, albeit unintentionally.
I hope you had a beautiful Purim, and that the spirit of achdut can carry you through to an elevated and meaningful Pesach.
D’var Torah – Parshat Tzav/Shabbat Zachor –by Immahlady
When Parshat Tzav and Shabbat Zachor (the Shabbat prior to Purim) connect, we are given some special insights into how to combat our age-old enemy Amalek.
I’ll get there in about five steps.
Step 1: The Joke.
You’ve probably heard it before, but laugh anyway. A new rabbi comes to a well-established congregation. Every week a fight erupts during the service. When it comes time to recite the Shema, half of the congregation stands and the other half sits. The half who stand say, “Of course we stand for the Shema. It’s the credo of Judaism. Throughout history, thousands of Jews have died with the words of the Shema on their lips.” The half who remain seated say, “No. According to the Shulchan Aruch (the code of Jewish law), if you are seated when you get to the Shema you remain seated.”
The people who are standing yell at the people who are sitting, “Stand up!” while the people who are sitting yell at the people who are standing, “Sit down!” It’s destroying the whole decorum of the service, and driving the new rabbi crazy. Finally, it’s brought to the rabbi’s attention that at a nearby home for the aged is a 98-year-old man who was a founding member of the congregation. So, in accordance with Talmudic tradition, the rabbi appoints a delegation of three, one who stands for the Shema, one who sits, and the rabbi himself, to go interview the man.
They enter his room, and the man who stands for the Shema rushes over to the old man and says, “Wasn’t it the tradition in our synagogue to stand for the Shema?”
“No,” the old man answers in a weak voice. “That wasn’t the tradition.” The other man jumps in excitedly.
“Wasn’t it the tradition in our synagogue to sit for the Shema?”
“No,” the old man says. “That wasn’t the tradition.”
At this point, the rabbi cannot control himself. He cuts in angrily. “I don’t care what the tradition was! Just tell them one or the other. Do you know what goes on in services every week — the people who are standing yell at the people who are sitting, the people
who are sitting yell at the people who are standing—”
“That was the tradition,” the old man says. It’s funny, and we do laugh, but how often do we see this play out in families, at work, and yes, brace yourselves – in shuls – and between the different movements of
Judaism?
Step 2: The Parsha
The parsha opens with HaShem telling Moshe to instruct the Kohanim regarding the sacrifice of particular offerings. Normally, when HaShem gives such instructions, the Torah uses the words ‘Emor’ or ‘Dabair’, which mean ‘say’ or tell.’ Instead, this week we have Tzav, ‘command.’ Command is a stricter, more concrete word then ‘say or tell.’ And given that commandments laid out this week apply to the Kohanim, a group already uniquely dedicated to the service of HaShem, it seems odd choice of words. After all, they have already proven themselves more than willing to obey HaShem’s laws. Rashi explains ‘tzav’ appears before the description of the olah offering. Whereas the Kohain is entitled to a portion of most offerings, the olah offering is entirely consumed by fire. ‘Tsav’ is a message to the Kohain not to downplay or ignore the elevation offerings, even though the other offerings are more lucrative. The Kohain does not profit directly from this korban, but nevertheless, it is a requirement he cannot shirk. Why is the Olah offering so important?
Rambam explains that the olah offering was one from the entire community. And as such, this sacrifice serves as a means to unite the community, not just to each other, but to G-d. In doing so, making us one nation. In essence, we are commanded to unite ourselves as a nation.
Step 3: Zachor
The Shabbat before Purim is called Shabbat Zachor. In addition to the normal Torah Reading, we read a few extra psukim from Devarim reminding us that we must not forget Amalek. While B’nai Israel walked out of Egypt, the surrounding nations were
pretty freaked, G-d rescued Israel from the most powerful country on the planet – with signs and wonders, with plagues, and of course, the splitting of the sea.
These miracles acted as a deterrent preventing the other nations from attacking Israel during the Exodus. Everyone, that is, except Amalek, which snuck behind B’nai Israel to attack the stragglers – the elderly, the weak, and the infirm. In doing so, they show
not only a complete lack of human decency, but also blatant disregard for HaShem. They showed no fear of retribution from G-d, despite the fate of the Egyptians, but they were afraid to meet their victims head on.
Because they acted so distastefully, we are commanded to wipe the entire nation of Amalek – sparing no one. In the HafTarah we read how Saul defied G-d’s commandment and did not completely wipe out Amalek. This misstep leads us to Purim, when we read about Amalek’s direct descendent Haman.
Step 4: Purim
Listen to the words Haman uses to convince Achashverosh to annihilate the Jewish People. He says “There is one nation that is scattered abroad and dispersed among the peoples in all the provinces of your realm.” Scattered and disbursed indicates that in
Persia, the Jews were very much as we are today – spread all over the land, not clustered into one community. The sages also explain that, like today, the Jews under Persian rule were just active in secular as well as non-secular activities, some more observant, some less so.
But Hashem and Haman agree in one critical point. No matter how we spread out and divide ourselves into categories, no matter how we separate ourselves from each other, Jews are – and always have been – one people, and have always shared in the same
fate. This is why Haman can justify genocide in response to his anger at Mordechai. As Rabbi Shalom Schwartz explains, the very goal of Israel’s enemies is to cripple the will of the nation through fear and suffering. But we see in the Torah reading on Shabbat and in the Megillah on Purim, that the Jews rally under attack from Amalek – fear and danger united us in Shushan, just as the Olah offering
united us. The key word here is united.
Step 5: Back to the Beginning
Like the Babylonians, Romans, and other historical enemies of the Jews, the Amalekites eventually dispersed through assimilation and marriage into other nations. Consequently, we can no longer identify Amalek as a people. But that does not mean
we don’t have the means to counter what Amalek stood for. Amalek leaves a calling card: It creates division and strife, sucking out hope and joy. Amalek tries to tear asunder what we have spent generations joining together, and will use any means necessary to break our hope – whether by blatant genocide or by sneaking in to murder the unarmed and defenseless. The best means of combating Amalek is to prove that no matter what, we will always remain an Am Echad, one nation.
How do we act as one nation?
To truly behave as one nation, we must believe that we are all connected, that we all belong to each other. And as long as we can be one nation, hope is not lost. This room – like the rest of world – appears to be full of individuals. But if we could see each person as limb extending from a shared body, we would understand that in order to keep the whole body safe, we must take care of each part as if they were all of equal importance. We cannot discount a limb because it refuses to move in the same direction of the others. The problem with that well-established shul in the joke is not that a difference of opinion exists. The old saying about two Jews make three opinions speaks volumes. That’s not the issue. The problem is when we use those disagreements to create rifts and arguments. Working together, as an Am Echad, is the only way to effectively combat Amalek.
My “old friend” wrote a lengthy comment in response to my post last week, and I have decided to share it with you as a guest post:
I think friendship the way you have described it is what it truly should be: a laboratory where we get to try out each other’s ideas and see how they fit, volleying them back and forth to see how they can grow and take on a life and meaning that is at least clear to us both, and perhaps also, even although not necessarily, acceptable;). I too value that about our friendship, and always enjoy the sharpening that comes to my mind when I have to articulate things that have become nebulous through non-speech. The following is some “word soup” to continue the conversation and to perhaps sharpen the distinctions between our positions. I have always believed that I am responsible for doing those things that I wish or believe need to be done, and therefore that I must do them. Whether those things are making sure my children have the best options for growth and learning, or whether the Torah is dispensed and dispersed in the world in optimal ways.
This is why I spent most of my children’s young years as a housewife and mother, cooking and baking nourishing dishes to eat and working at and with the schools in which they learned. I never actually thought of myself as chaining myself to a stove, nor did I see that as part of Orthodox Judaism. It did mean that my career and personal development took a different route, even perhaps a bit of a detour, and that I added different types of experiences and skill sets to my already eclectic resume. Now that they are grown and out of the house, I continue to cook and bake most of my own foods, for the nutritional value that provides me, again not because of some gender role or some external force, but because these are choices I make, based on my needs and understanding of what is available and what I wish to put in my body. To a certain extent I feel the same way about my understanding of Halakha and Torah. It is not so much an issue of “trust”ing male sages, rather understanding how they arrived at their conclusions, and whether those conclusions are still valid in a world where both men and women share the burden and the partnership in raising, educating and growing our children, and whether they are still valid for me in my world. In a world like this, perhaps the rules that Ima2Seven sees as playing out for her are not really applicable. It is perhaps convenient, and even pleasurable or correct for her family, for her and for her husband to be to be doing the tasks they do, but does that make it the case for every Orthodox Jewish couple?.
In my experience of learning, many of the “rules and regulations” that appear in our legal corpus are the result of attempts to formalize case law into formulas that can be generalized. The problem with doing this is that there will always be exceptions to rules like these, that case law would have provided for but legal formulations cannot. A difference between me and Ima2Seven is that she prefers to give these questions, when they arise to her Rabbi, I prefer to learn the sources and find out the options for myself.
This is my way of initiating a healing of those “parts of the body that are afflicted”, for myself. I do not believe that this is “uprooting”, rather casting new and relevant light and perspective on laws that need to be seen. Understand please, I do not believe that I will be able to solve these issues, not even for myself. I wish to understand some of the sources of what i perceive to be difficulties. I do however believe that that is the first step in the dialog, of men and women with the Torah and the Halakha that will hopefully lead to the healing without uprooting that we all wish to see.
Even though Ima2Seven declares her “sexist” position, I think that she herself would have a tough time accepting the original rules that go along with it. We fought long and hard so that women could vote, get equal pay for equal positions, could speak or perform in public and many other advantages that will allow her daughters to reach at least the same heights of knowledge and independence as those reached by her sons. To disallow that in the religious context, is to me the worst of the logical outgrowths of her position, since at some point, for some of these young women, one of the only options left them might be to leave the religious fold altogether, in order to find intellectual satisfaction, or suitable partners with whom to connect, because we have not shown our young men and women how to navigate these very complex yet intriguing waters.
I told you she is a “hachama”; what do you think?
I have an old friend (can you say that after nine years? What if it feels like you have always been friends?) that I rarely get to spend time with. We are different ages, at different stages of our lives with different schedules. Recently we got a precious hour to catch up over some of her delicious warm soup.
Her company feels like “comfort food” as much as the soup.
Yet the conversation we had, like so many that we do, was not a comfortable one in some respects, and did not involve much in the way of what our respective children are up to lately, or any small talk. We wound up in a debate of sorts, that was, for me, enlightening, refreshing, challenging and real – the precise words I would use to describe this friend.
She and I come from very different Jewish backgrounds. While we arrived at an observance that is quite similar in a lot of ways (we have both studied at the same women’s beit midrash, davened at the same shul… ) we very often disagree about aspects of Orthodox Judaism, especially as it relates to women.
This particular conversation revolved around the idea that Traditional Judaism is a Patriarchy, one that has not created a suitable status for women with an expertise of Torah knowledge, one that has not created a voice for women’s thoughts and ideas on the Torah, one that has arbitrarily unilaterally* dealt with women’s observance of certain halachot without their say, and one that has not sufficiently encouraged and inspired women to learn, teach, interpret, think, or speak out.
That is what I believe is her opinion… you see, it isn’t mine. [ Dear friend if you read this and I have gotten it wrong, please forgive and feel free to let me know, comment away, and clear up the misunderstanding. ]
How much we need to “trust” the male sages of our Talmud that their decisions are what are best for women as well as men is a real source of disagreement for us. I don’t want to see women as Rabbis. I don’t want more access to “male” halachot, and I don’t want to spend time exploring if some of them actually should also be my obligations as a woman. I think there is a lot of wisdom in many of the decisions that the male sages have made about women, many that are antithetical to modern sensibilities of women’s roles in families, societies and Judaism.
Of course I believe that when it comes to gender issues(as well as lots of other things) there are problems within Orthodoxy. There are lots of groups of people who are serving Hashem in lots of ways that I may think are, well, misguided. There are also whole religious societies that have certain areas that need a lot of work…. but I think they are parts of a body that need healing, not an affliction from within that must be uprooted or defeated.
She did make an interesting and very compelling point to me, one that has stayed with me: we live in an age where women live more years than every before with grown children. Those children customarily don’t live around the corner, meaning in our times women have more time available for Torah study than ever before. More time to attend shul, more time to sit in a beit midrash.
This huge shift was pointed out to me several years ago by another friend and amazing woman who is the past president of her Conservative Temple. She said: ” I don’t have to be home to take care of anybody. I have time now. I am not a mom to young children. I am not a grandmother. My children didn’t get married after high school, they are busy pursuing their careers. So I have time as a Jew – and what is the Jewish world offering me to do with that time? Where is the establishment putting that decade of my life to good use as a member of the Jewish people? Why are they telling me not to use it to be Shul President? Were would they like it to go? Away?” I had a momentary desire to drop everything at that moment and write a book. Because what ARE we doing with that new-found decade (or more) in the lives of Jewish women? What are we offering them to help cleave to and serve Hashem? And what is the establish doing to work on the problem?
One answer is that we have more resources for Torah learning for womenthan ever before. In Israel, in New York, and on-line. I have friends in this in-between stage who are consuming Torah classes at places like Naaleh.com at an astounding pace — because they simply have the time.
So a woman who is a true expert in Torah? My friend is right when she says that there are now scores of women with far more Torah knowledge than an average Talmud Torah 3rd grade male teacher bequeathed with the title “Rebbe”.
So, what are we to do? I want women’s roles to stay far away from those that men have. I have stated before on this blog that I am a sexist, and with strong reasons. I don’t think women encroaching on male territory is good for men, and therefore I don’t think it is good for the perfection of our society. But these women have accomplished something that is often taken seriously by the people who know her, yet isn’t acknowledged in any systematic way.
Personally, I like the idea of a “Hachama“, which could be translated as “wise one”. I would like to see “hachamot” in schools. I think it would confer an understanding that some women – like this friend of mine – are head and shoulders above the rest of us in their Torah learning, due to the hours and years of study that have been put in. I would like Yoetzet Halacha Shani Taragin, for example, to be “Hachama Shani Taragin” because at the end of the day, she is an expert. She cannot perform the duties of a Rabbi, and she cannot give halachic rulings, but she certainly can teach Torah rings around most Rabbis and Torah scholars I know. She certainly could be consulted as an expert on a lot of Torah topics. And she should be called something other than Mrs. when she teaches at the many Torah institutions that she does. She will soon be a “Dr.”, but do we really want our Torah credentials coming from the world of secular academia? I don’t think so.
So, while we may not agree on the solution, at least I was positively persuaded of the need. I hadn’t missed it, not being a hachama myself, but when pointed out to me, I do understand the lack.
Long after arriving home from this visit with this debate still percolating in my head, it occurred to me that one reason that we have such different viewpoints is because we arrived to a similar spot from opposite directions… with one thing in common. We both have a Jewish voice that was silenced in the past.
My friend grew up in a traditional household with a traditional education….if you can call moving around the world going to zillions of Jewish schools traditional. I don’t know much about her family life growing up and I would never presume to describe how her parents taught her to view women in Judaism. But I do know that she had a lot of experience with women learning Torah… for the purpose of teaching their sons. Or girls being limited in what they could learn – and what they could say – within Orthodoxy.
“Don’t speak, don’t think out loud – you have to fit our mold“.
I grew up in the seventies, with feminism at its strongest, including within the Conservative Jewish world I lived in. I was encouraged to daven, read Torah, learn Torah, wear a tallis, be a Cantor – forge ahead in helping women being everything a man could be in Judaism.
But I wasn’t taught women’s halachot. And I was told that it isn’t okay to want to stay at home and raise children, or change diapers rather than make it to shul. (Not only is it not okay to do, but it really isn’t okay to want to.) It wasn’t okay to let my husband’s career take precedence, or to view myself Jewishly in any way different than a man. When I chose to be Orthodox I was told I was “chaining myself to a stove”. Why would a woman want to do that to herself? It would not have been socially acceptable to admit I am a sexist in my former life. To say such a thing was a “shanda“.
For the record, I have spent a great majority of the last decade barefoot, pregnant and/or nursing and cooking! Because I want to and I love it. It nurtures my family, it has made me happy – and I resent being told that it simply isn’t a valid option – it is only a symptom of oppression!
“Don’t have those goals or desires – you have to fit our mold“.
So, I want a place for the traditional woman’s role to be elevated and valued by society, including secular society. And my friend wants a place for women to do more, take on more, say more, be heard more and have it elevated and valued by society, not just secular society. But I think both desires come from a place of being invalidated.
The Girl Scouts have a saying which has become a life-mantra for me: “Always leave a place better than you found it.” I think they must have gotten that from the Torah somewhere, Tikkun Olam and all.
This friend? Well, a short get-together over warm soup leaves me better than she found me. And I think that is a sign of a great friend and a real “hachama“.
*the wording where crossed out was changed at the request of this friend.
Shabbat begins in 45 minutes, which means I should be scrambling and running around frantic rather than blogging.
Normally I would be, making the house a little more perfect, making just one more dish to ensure we have too much food. But, I have been sick for the last two days so I have no choice but to take it easy.
I was able to rest yesterday because my husband got the kids off to school. My boss(es) let me take it easy. I work from home, so I could take care of the necessary from my bed. Our school’s PTO sells kosher pizza on Thursdays that you bake at home – so I didn’t have to make dinner. My eleven year old daughter ran me a bath and cut the pizza for her siblings. Husband put them all to bed without me and then got up with everyone this morning and got them off to school.
He was able to do so quietly enough that I could sleep until 9:30(!!!!) Then my neighbor, a friend, widow and all-around-spectacular person, came over to help me cook. She chopped, rinsed, diced… and then sensitively exited when it was clear I had exerted myself and needed to go back to bed for more rest. She came back later to drop off a pie and dessert for Shabbat lunch.
My husband worked from home today, which is completely fine with his boss.
A different neighbor dropped off two desserts, to lighten my load for Shabbat prep. Why two? Because she knows we limit the kids’ dessert intake, so she specifically made a bowl of fruit.
As I sit to write this, three of my sons are outside squeezing in a few last minutes of baseball with each other before showers and candle lighting. They do this because they love baseball and each other — and because they can.
I am sure this posting is so gushy as to make some of you gag. But I am sick, and I have a whole community and life full of blessings around me that make me so grateful.
I am incredibly grateful to live in a religious Jewish community. For my husband’s flexible job and gracious and helpful attitude. To work from home, doing what I love, but near to the people who need me most.
I am incredibly grateful for all of the tremendous help from my tremendous friends…. and even for the illness that is minor enough to pass, but reminds me of just how lucky I am.
