I have been feeling a bit addicted to technology lately, so I resolved to do something that I have not done in about two decades. I wrote a sermon completely by hand, without using anything whatsoever with a screen for ideas or research. I scanned it and am sharing the results below (I get the irony). Sorry if you can’t read my handwriting.
Tag Archives: Genesis
Dinah, The Yatzanit – Vayishlach 5775
There is a current trend in Hollywood of making epic movies based on stories from the Torah. Earlier this year, we saw the release of Noah, by Darren Aronofsky. Ridley Scott’s Exodus: Gods and Kings opens next weekend. This Sunday night is the premier on Lifetime of a mini-series adaptation of Anita Diamant’s biblical-historical novel, The Red Tent. I can only assume that it has been timed for release with this morning’s Torah portion, Vayishlach, in which we read the story of the book and mini-series’ central character, Dinah.
I saw the trailer for the miniseries. It is what I would have expected: stunning desert scenes, dramatic music, beautiful actors, violence, and quite a bit of skin. According to the journalist Debra Nussbaum Cohen, “the miniseries provides Lifetime’s heavily female audience with gauzy love scenes that verge on soft porn.”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sn7slM-72ls
When the novel, The Red Tent, was first published in 1997, it had no advertising budget and did not attract much attention. Anita Diamant, however, wisely hit the synagogue lecture circuit, and by 2001, it had become a New York Times bestseller. It has since sold over 3 million copies.
It also pioneered a literary trend of Jewish female-centered novels set in times in which women’s voices have rarely been recorded. Maggie Anton wrote her Rashi’s daughters trilogy, and is now two thirds of the way through her Rav Hisda’s daughters trilogy, for example.
Anita Diamant was prompted to write The Red Tent by Dinah’s total silence in the biblical text. Dinah does not get a single word in the thirty one verses that describe her ordeal.
Many readers have described The Red Tent as a modern midrash, an effort to fill in the gaps and thereby describe what happened then in a way that also connects with our view of the world today.
Interestingly, the author disagrees. She writes the following:
The Red Tent is not a translation but a work of fiction. Its perspective and focus—by and about the female characters—distinguishes it from the biblical account, in which women are usually peripheral and often totally silent. By giving Dinah a voice and by providing texture and content to the sketchy biblical descriptions, my book is a radical departure from the historical text.
Simply put, The Red Tent is a novel based on a biblical story. But for the millions of people who have read it, especially Jewish women, it has been a powerful and religiously meaningful suggestion of what life might have been like for the women who lived in our Patriarchs’ households.
The Red Tent makes significant, and intentional, departures from the text. It describes what the Torah depicts as Shechem’s rape of Dinah instead as a consensual, loving marriage that Dinah freely enters. It presents the women of Jacob’s household as idol-worshipping pagans. And of course, it gives Dinah voice and volition, both of which are absent in the text itself.
The language in chapter 34 is extremely deliberate. Let’s focus on some of the verbs. Dinah is the subject of exactly one verb in the entire story. Ironically, her verb is the opening word of the chapter. Vatetze Dinah. “And Dinah, Leah’s daughter,whom she had borne to Jacob, went out to go seeing among the daughters of the land.” (Genesis 34:1, Translation by Robert Alter)
For all other verbs in this story, Dinah is an object to be seen, taken, slept with, abused, defiled, and given away.
The medieval commentator Rashi records a midrash (Genesis Rabbah 80:1) that asks why Dinah is described as Leah’s daughter rather than Jacob’s daughter. It is because her “going out” is similar to something her mother, Leah, had done a few chapters earlier. After making a deal with her sister and co-wife Rachel, Leah goes out into the field to inform their husband Jacob that he must sleep with her that night. Thus “going out” is associated with wantonness and promiscuity. “Like mother like daughter,” as the Prophet Ezekiel states (Ezekiel 16:44). Dinah, says Rashi, is a Yatzanit.
While there are other commentators that do not find fault with either Dinah or Leah, and indeed praise them both, we see in the midrash that Rashi chooses to cite the sexist and dangerous attitude that seeks to blame the victim. “She was asking for it.” “She should have known better than to go out looking like that.” And so on.
How sad that the one verb attributed to Dinah in the entire Torah is interpreted so horribly!
Indeed, the verbs in the rest of the story also reflect the classic misogyny in which women are not seen as agents who can determine their own fate, but rather as property to be owned and traded.
Two verbs that occur numerous times are lakach and natan – take and give. There is nothing unusual about these two words. Both are ubiquitous and among the most common words in Hebrew. In this story, these words are used almost exclusively to describe the transferring of possession of females by males.
Here are a few of the many examples: Shechem takes Dinah and rapes her after he sees her. Later, in love with Dinah, Shechem begs his father Chamor to “take for me this girl as a wife.” When Chamor speaks to Jacob about it, he asks him to “Please give her to him as a wife.” Chamor then suggests that the two tribes should intermarry with each other. “You give your daughters to us, and our daughters you shall take for yourselves.”
When they hear about it, Dinah’s brothers are unhappy. “We cannot do such a thing,” they say, “to give our sister to a man who has a foreskin…” Negotiations go back and forth. Eventually, the men of the town agree to be circumcised so that their respective daughters can be given and taken accordingly. As per the agreement, Dinah is sent to Shechem’s house. But it is all a ruse. Shimon and Levi sneak into town and slaughter all of the men. “Then they take Dinah from the house of Shechem and they leave.”
While incredibly upsetting, it should not surprise us that this ancient text presents women as passive chattel. That was the social structure in the Ancient Near East.
These texts are part of our holy Torah, however. Our tradition considers these words to be sacred, and insists that they contain ultimate Truth. As Jews, we have to find how these words speak to us today. In some cases, as in this story, there are elements both of the story itself and of how it has been traditionally understood, which many of us find deeply problematic.
That does not mean there is not a Truth that can speak to us from this text.
At this moment, a national conversation is taking place, primarily on college campuses, about what constitutes consent. The old adage was “no means no.” Now there are those who advocate a higher standard of “yes means yes.” In other words, if both parties do not verbally consent, a sexual act may be considered rape.
In the course of this national conversation, attitudes are emerging that suggest that the clothing a person chooses to wear, or the decision to attend a fraternity party, for example, makes a victim at least partly responsible for the sexual assault she suffers.
While we as a society have come far in terms of promoting gender equality, and creating equal space for women’s voices, it is clear that we still have a way to go. The way that we speak about gender and equality in religion is a central part of that progress. Religion both reflects and, in some cases, leads the progress that society makes.
Anita Diamant’s The Red Tent has been a very important step that is both symbolic of and has inspired the embrace of women’s experiences and voices in Jewish tradition.
I am not suggesting that we should all go out and watch the Lifetime miniseries. It will probably be entertaining, as well as “gauzy,” but I am not expecting any fabulous new insights. Personally, I will not be watching it because I do not subscribe to cable. I will just have to wait until it comes out on DVD.
But I see the trend of creatively considering how we might understand the voices of previously-silenced Jewish women to be an important one, whether in a miniseries, in a novel, or even more importantly, whenever we read our ancient holy texts.
How to Behave as Jew in the Wider World: Toldot 5775
One of the wonderful things about Torah is that there are so many different lenses through which to read it. Tradition uses the word Pardes, meaning orchard, as an acronym of four styles of Torah interpretation. The peh is for p’shat – the plain sense meaning of the text. What did these words mean to the ancient reader who spoke the language and lived in the society that the Torah describes?
The resh is for remez – hints that are alluded to in the Biblical text.
The dalet is for d’rash, or midrash, (fancy word: exegesis). This is the attempt to explain silences, contradictions, and problems in the text in ways that are not possible from within the text itself.
And finally, the samech is for sod, secret, which refers to the hidden kabbalistic, or mystical truths which are hidden beneath the surface of the text.
All four methods of biblical interpretation are valid, and all four are Jewish. All have the capability of revealing religious truths. Whenever we study Torah, it is crucial that we understand which method of interpretation we are using.
This morning, I am going to request that we suspend our skepticism for the next few minutes and immerse ourselves fully in midrash. In the midrash, Jacob is a good, pious person. Easau is wicked. And Lavan is a liar and a cheat. For now, we need to accept that particular understanding of these characters.
Parashat Toldot introduces us to the third generation of the Patriarchs. Rebecca is pregnant with twins, and they are already struggling in her womb. It is such a difficult pregnancy that she wonders if it is even worth it to be alive. The Torah tells us that she goes to inquire of the Lord, seeking a prophecy which will explain what is going on inside her body. The nature of her sons is then revealed, with a prophecy that the older will serve the younger.
The midrash (Genesis Rabbah 63:6), as we might expect, expands the story. Whenever Rebecca would walk in front of study houses and synagogues, Jacob would struggle to get out, and whenever she would walk next to houses of idolatry, Esau would squirm to make his escape.
Another midrash (Yalkut Shimoni Toldot 110) identifies the location from which Rebecca seeks out God’s answer to her travails. She travels to the Beit Midrash, the academy, of Shem and Ever, where the answer is revealed.
Who are Shem and Ever, and why do they have an academy?
Shem is one of the three sons of Noach, who survives the flood and begins humanity’s repopulation of the earth. We do not know much about him from the Torah, only this: When Noach gets drunk and passes out naked, the middle brother Cham does something inappropriate and unforgivable. Shem, with the youngest brother Yefet, do not look at their father and respectfully bring him a cloak to cover himself. As a result, Noach curses Cham and blesses the other two children.
“Blessed be the Lord, the God of Shem… May God enlarge Japheth, and let him dwell in the tents of Shem…” (Genesis 9:26-27)
Notice that this blessing associates Shem with God. It also refers to tents, in which the younger brother seems to be finding shelter. Thus, Shem seems to have been a monotheist, and a man of some standing.
Ever, the other Head of School, is Shem‘s grandson, and we have no distinctive information about him from the Torah.
From these scant details, the Rabbis develop a sophisticated narrative about the state of monotheism before Abraham. Shem, later joined by his grandson Ever, establish a tent, understood metaphorically as a Beit Midrash. There, they teach about God and God’s commandments.
But, you say, the Torah has not been given yet, so how is it possible that there can be mitzvot? According the Rabbis, the seven mitzvot of the children of Noach have been given, and it is these which serve as the curriculum of this proto-yeshiva. Among these commandments, which our tradition understands as applying to all of humanity, is the requirement to have societies governed by laws that are administered justly and fairly. To create such laws certainly necessitates extensive learning, and that is the kind of learning taught by Shem and Ever.
So who makes up the student body?
One of the valedictorians is Abraham. It is in the Beit Midrash of Shem and Ever that he receives his introductory instructions in theology. He first learns about God from them. But was not Abraham an iconoclast, the first person to bring monotheism into the world? Not in this midrash. The difference, however, is that Abraham brings his message of monotheism out into the world. He proselytizes, so to speak, and quite effectively, whereas Shem and Ever are cloistered in their ivory tower (or tent).
In the Babylonian Talmud’s Tractate Avodah Zarah (BT Avodah Zarah 14b), which deals with Judaism’s laws against idolatry, a tradition is recorded that Abraham himself studied that same tractate. When he studied, however, it was comprised of four hundred chapters. He really had to know his stuff if he was going to go out into an idolatrous world and convince people of the existence of the One True God. In our Talmud, Tractate Avodah Zarah is only five chapters long.
A generation later, Abraham sends Isaac to the Beit Midrash of Shem and Ever after his near-sacrifice on Mount Moriah.
You can probably guess by now that Jacob will end up enrolling in his father and grandfather’s alma mater as well.
According to the midrash, Esau and Jacob spend their first years with their lives somewhat intertwined. They have yet to fully differentiate. By the time they reach their thirteenth birthday, their personalities have been revealed and they start to go their own ways. The Torah describes the respective characters of Esau and Jacob. Va-yi-h’yu Esav ish yodea tzayid ish sadeh, v’Ya-akov ish tam yoshev ohalim. “Esau was a man who knew the hunt, a man of the field, while Jacob was a simple man, a dweller of tents.” (Genesis 25:27)
The midrash (Genesis Rabbah 63:10), noting that Jacob seems to be spending a lot of time in tents, identifies them as the same tents of Shem and Ever. In other words, he enrolls in the prestigious Beit Midrash that his ancestors had established generations earlier.
He goes back later for graduate school.
This morning’s Torah portion ends with Jacob fleeing from Esau’s wrath after he steals the older twin’s blessing. Rebecca urges her favored son to travel East to her brother Lavan’s home in Haran to wait for Esau’s temper to cool. Isaac then offers Jacob a parting blessing and sends him on his way.
Rashi, based on a midrash in the Talmud (Rashi on Genesis 28:9), then performs some detailed calculations. He looks at the various ages of the characters that are described at different points in the story, and comes to the conclusion that there are fourteen missing years between the time that Jacob leaves home and when he arrives at his uncle Lavan’s household.
Where did he go in the meantime?
You can probably guess by now. What do people typically do when the economy takes a downturn? They go to graduate school.
Jacob reenrolls in the Beit Midrash of Shem and Ever. Why is it so important that he spend this time learning? Because of where he is about to go. Jacob leaves penniless, but his destiny is to become wildly successful in his time abroad. Jacob will prosper in Lavan’s house. But there is an inherent danger, as Lavan is not a good influence. He is greedy and duplicitous. There is a real risk that when Jacob is away from home, outside of his parents’ influences, he will assimilate Lavan’s value system. How can Jacob spend so much time with Lavan without becoming him?
He needs an inoculation from the influence of his no-good uncle. That is where school comes in. Education is what will enable Jacob to retain his values despite his environment. Intensive Torah study inside the academy will prepare him to live a life of Torah out in the world.
Jacob might also need some time to mature on his own. After all, the fact that he is running for his life is kind of his own fault. He has outnegotiated Esau for the birthright, stolen the blessing from him, and lied and tricked his father. Perhaps Jacob needs to go back to school for some moral reeducation as well.
As it turns out, Jacob does well in Lavan’s household. He spends twenty two years there, builds a family, and acquires great wealth. Jacob eventually must leave, however, as it is not his home. He knows that to fulfill his destiny, he must separate and go back home. One of the first things he does after returning to the Land of Israel is to force all of the members of his household to throw out any personal idols that they have brought with them. Those idolatrous values from Lavan’s home will have no place in Jacob’s household.
On one level, these midrashim about the Beit Midrash of Shem and Ever are anachronistic. They retroject the Rabbis’ values of Torah study into an ancient time which clearly had different priorities and institutions. On the other hand, by using recognizable contemporary symbols, these midrashim are able to tell us something about what was important to the Rabbis in their own time, which may help us better understand the situations we face in the present.
In sending Jacob to yeshivah, the midrash does the same thing as I did a few minutes ago when I described Jacob’s return to yeshiva as graduate school. This is one of the ways that Torah comes alive for us.
So what are the Rabbis trying to tell us in these midrashim? They are making a point about how we can best prepare ourselves and our children to deal with the world successfully without taking on the bad qualities of that world.
One lesson they may be imparting is how to best prepare oneself to maintain one’s values within a wider society that does not share them. That sounds pretty relevant to me. Judaism has always struggled with finding a healthy balance between engaging with the world, incorporating positive elements from other cultures, and resisting the negative ones.
Let me share an example. This coming Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, is known as Black Friday. Over the last several years, we have seen Black Friday pushed back earlier and earlier onto Thanksgiving, giving consumers more opportunities to buy stuff and giving retail workers less opportunities to celebrate Thanksgiving. It creates a sense of competition between stores to move up their openings times so that their competitors do not gain an advantage. And it creates competition between consumers who feel that they need to be first in line in order to get the best deals. The result is a cheapening and weakening of Thanksgiving, which in my opinion is the one national holiday that most Americans seem to take seriously.
The Canadian organization Adbusters created a campaign a few years ago called International Buy Nothing Day, on which people are urged to not spend any money on Black Friday.
As Jews, we do not really need to set aside a day for anti-consumerism. We already have Shabbat, which instead of once every 365 days, occurs once in seven. Nevertheless, every year when Black Friday roles around, I am so happy to be Jewish, and to not have that pressure to go out and get the best deals on Christmas presents. I would put Black Friday in the category of things from the dominant culture for us to avoid.
But we have assimilated much that is good into our tradition as well.
In recent decades, we have incorporated into Judaism values like feminism and social action while struggling to resist messages that promote violence and encourage immodesty. How do we inculcate the moral strength to stick by the values of our ancestors? Through learning.
The lesson here is that a deep education in Torah lays the essential moral groundwork for going out into the world and behaving as a Jew ought to behave. It was that education, at least according to the midrash, that was available to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. It was that education that made it possible for Jacob to go abroad, away from the protective influence of his parents, retain his values in a foreign culture, and eventually return home with those values intact.
Rebyehoshua 