My D'var Torah
Dvar Torah literally means "words of Torah." In other words, it means a sermon. I gave mine today to the HUC congregation, and it went really well! I'm including it below. (Nicole read Torah today too, and Joe and Jonathan made us dinner in celebration... I love supportive spouses)
The first CD I ever bought was Jagged Little Pill, by Alanis Morissette. Alanis was everything I wasn’t – impetuous and never silent. When she was angry, everyone knew it. She was a woman of action.
When I read the story of the rape of Dinah, I expect Dinah’s father, Jacob, to be like Alanis. His daughter has been raped! Surely he will scream at the rapist, and defend his daughter. Surely our patriarch has as much chutzpah as my favorite singer. Surely, he will not be silent.
But no.
[In Hebrew] V'Yaacov sh'ma ki tima et-Dina bito oovanav hayoo et-miknahoo bsa-de vhecherev yaacov ad bo-am.
“Jacob heard that he [Shchem] had defiled his daughter Dinah; but since his sons were in the field with his cattle, Jacob kept silent until they came home.” (Gen 34:5)
Jacob says nothing. Jacob’s sons answer Shchem and his father Chamor when they ask for Dinah’s hand in marriage. Jacob’s sons, Levi and Shimon, agree to marry Dinah to her rapist if all the men of Shchem agree to be circumcised. It is Jacob’s sons who exact revenge by murdering every man in the city. Jacob himself does not once intervene.
Can he be justified? This portion begs the question of voice: when is the time for quiet, and when is the time for action? How are we to know when we should stifle our cries, or when to scream out loudly? Jacob does both at different times in his life, and according to various rabbis, it was either his best decision, or his worst.
Sixteenth-century Italian commentator Sforno applauds Jacob’s choice to keep silent, writing: “He avoided any confrontation until their sons’ arrival. Thus, they would be alerted and able to guard themselves against their antagonists” (Sforno 183). To Sforno, Jacob’s silence was a valid action, and a wiser move than any verbal opposition, lest he and the women of his family be overrun by further violence. Twentieth-century commentator Nahum Sarna agrees with Sforno. He says that “the need to exercise restraint, pending the arrival of his sons, is understandable… [and] his passivity… remarkable” (Sarna 234). Both commentators believe that restraint is necessary so that no one else will be hurt.
Yet, what about after his sons return, and Shimon and Levi murder all the men of Shchem? Jacob still remains silent. He only shows anger years later in Vayechi when giving his sons his final blessing. He says, “Shimon and Levi are a pair;/ their weapons are tools of lawlessness./ Let not my soul come into their counsel,/ Let not my being be counted in their assembly.. I will divide them in Jacob,/ Scatter them in Israel” (Gen 49:5-7).
The medieval Rambam postulates that this late response is an excuse to alleviate his guilt: “the phrase let my soul not come into their counsel… disclaims responsibility for their conspiracy when they answered with guile and declares he, Jacob, was not party to their assembly when they came down on the city and slew them” (Rambam in Leibowitz). Following Dinah’s rape, Jacob knew what his sons were planning, but he also knew that his words would fall on deaf ears; so he said nothing.
Israeli commentator Nehama Leibowitz also has problems with Jacob’s original reticence. She questions why he speaks up in Vayechi, not Vayishlach: “Why then, in the first place, did Jacob acquiesce to [the brothers’] stratagem? Why did he not protest during the negotiations with Shchem?” (Leibowitz 381)
Contemporary rabbi Gunther Plaut offers a possible answer. He states that “Jacob is silent because he in fact has nothing to say. He has already become the object of events and has entered the twilight of his life” (Plaut 229). Jacob knows that his sons are immoral. Reuven has slept with Bilhah, Judah will cheat Tamar of her future, and all the brothers together will later send Joseph to what they believe to be his death. While Jacob is an active patriarch, unlike his father, Isaac, and will continue to make family decisions for years to come, in this instance he recognizes that his voice will not be heard.
If we apply Plaut’s commentary to other situations, perhaps we can learn from Jacob’s silence. He and the other biblical commentators teach us that
[in Hebrew] L'kol zman v'et l'chol cha-fetz tachat ha-shamayim"
(Ecclesiastes 3:1) “To everything there is a season, a time for every experience under the heavens,” including
[in Hebrew] et lachashot v'et l'daber
“a time for silence and a time for speaking.” (Eccl 3:7). Silence can be an action in and of itself, and when we know that our voices will not accomplish anything, or will do more harm than good, we can choose to be silent. At other times, in different seasons, it might be important to engage in conflict right from the beginning. Two weeks ago, the supporters of gays and lesbians in Israel felt the need to make their voices heard, for they thought that remaining silent in the face of discrimination would never achieve change. However, the paraders did not go through Mea Shearim; not only would the haredim not have listened, they would have become violent, and the parade would have caused injury. We must pick our battles, and decide when to speak.
This motif of silence is common throughout the Tanach. For instance, Aaron’s sons Nadab and Abihu offer God “alien” fire and are killed instantly. Aaron says nothing as he watches his sons die. Rashi posits that Aaron even “received a reward for his silence… [in that] the subsequent Divine address was made to him alone and not to Moses also” (Rashi 38). In this case, Aaron, and everyone else, knew that his sons were in the wrong. He had no grounds on which to object.
However, for other Biblical characters, silence is absolutely the wrong course of action. “My heart moans within me/ I cannot be silent” cries Jeremiah as he prophecies to Israel (Jer 4:19). Esther is warned by Mordechai, “If you keep silent in this crisis… you and your father’s house will perish!” (Esther 4:14). Esther makes her voice heard, in spite of the possible consequences.
The heroes and heroines of our tradition knew that at times, we must be like Aaron and protest only in our heart. Other times, we must be like Esther – be like my heroine, Alanis Morissette - and proclaim loudly for all to hear. But like Jacob in Vayishlach, who was silent when he knew his words would make no difference, and who then spoke with a vengeance when everyone was listening, we must decide when to jump into the fray.
Silence, by itself, is not wrong. Neither is voice. Our words will not always count, and we will not always be heard. The key is to realize when we are in an
[in Hebrew] et lachashot
or an [in Hebrew] et l'daber
And to act accordingly.
The first CD I ever bought was Jagged Little Pill, by Alanis Morissette. Alanis was everything I wasn’t – impetuous and never silent. When she was angry, everyone knew it. She was a woman of action.
When I read the story of the rape of Dinah, I expect Dinah’s father, Jacob, to be like Alanis. His daughter has been raped! Surely he will scream at the rapist, and defend his daughter. Surely our patriarch has as much chutzpah as my favorite singer. Surely, he will not be silent.
But no.
[In Hebrew] V'Yaacov sh'ma ki tima et-Dina bito oovanav hayoo et-miknahoo bsa-de vhecherev yaacov ad bo-am.
“Jacob heard that he [Shchem] had defiled his daughter Dinah; but since his sons were in the field with his cattle, Jacob kept silent until they came home.” (Gen 34:5)
Jacob says nothing. Jacob’s sons answer Shchem and his father Chamor when they ask for Dinah’s hand in marriage. Jacob’s sons, Levi and Shimon, agree to marry Dinah to her rapist if all the men of Shchem agree to be circumcised. It is Jacob’s sons who exact revenge by murdering every man in the city. Jacob himself does not once intervene.
Can he be justified? This portion begs the question of voice: when is the time for quiet, and when is the time for action? How are we to know when we should stifle our cries, or when to scream out loudly? Jacob does both at different times in his life, and according to various rabbis, it was either his best decision, or his worst.
Sixteenth-century Italian commentator Sforno applauds Jacob’s choice to keep silent, writing: “He avoided any confrontation until their sons’ arrival. Thus, they would be alerted and able to guard themselves against their antagonists” (Sforno 183). To Sforno, Jacob’s silence was a valid action, and a wiser move than any verbal opposition, lest he and the women of his family be overrun by further violence. Twentieth-century commentator Nahum Sarna agrees with Sforno. He says that “the need to exercise restraint, pending the arrival of his sons, is understandable… [and] his passivity… remarkable” (Sarna 234). Both commentators believe that restraint is necessary so that no one else will be hurt.
Yet, what about after his sons return, and Shimon and Levi murder all the men of Shchem? Jacob still remains silent. He only shows anger years later in Vayechi when giving his sons his final blessing. He says, “Shimon and Levi are a pair;/ their weapons are tools of lawlessness./ Let not my soul come into their counsel,/ Let not my being be counted in their assembly.. I will divide them in Jacob,/ Scatter them in Israel” (Gen 49:5-7).
The medieval Rambam postulates that this late response is an excuse to alleviate his guilt: “the phrase let my soul not come into their counsel… disclaims responsibility for their conspiracy when they answered with guile and declares he, Jacob, was not party to their assembly when they came down on the city and slew them” (Rambam in Leibowitz). Following Dinah’s rape, Jacob knew what his sons were planning, but he also knew that his words would fall on deaf ears; so he said nothing.
Israeli commentator Nehama Leibowitz also has problems with Jacob’s original reticence. She questions why he speaks up in Vayechi, not Vayishlach: “Why then, in the first place, did Jacob acquiesce to [the brothers’] stratagem? Why did he not protest during the negotiations with Shchem?” (Leibowitz 381)
Contemporary rabbi Gunther Plaut offers a possible answer. He states that “Jacob is silent because he in fact has nothing to say. He has already become the object of events and has entered the twilight of his life” (Plaut 229). Jacob knows that his sons are immoral. Reuven has slept with Bilhah, Judah will cheat Tamar of her future, and all the brothers together will later send Joseph to what they believe to be his death. While Jacob is an active patriarch, unlike his father, Isaac, and will continue to make family decisions for years to come, in this instance he recognizes that his voice will not be heard.
If we apply Plaut’s commentary to other situations, perhaps we can learn from Jacob’s silence. He and the other biblical commentators teach us that
[in Hebrew] L'kol zman v'et l'chol cha-fetz tachat ha-shamayim"
(Ecclesiastes 3:1) “To everything there is a season, a time for every experience under the heavens,” including
[in Hebrew] et lachashot v'et l'daber
“a time for silence and a time for speaking.” (Eccl 3:7). Silence can be an action in and of itself, and when we know that our voices will not accomplish anything, or will do more harm than good, we can choose to be silent. At other times, in different seasons, it might be important to engage in conflict right from the beginning. Two weeks ago, the supporters of gays and lesbians in Israel felt the need to make their voices heard, for they thought that remaining silent in the face of discrimination would never achieve change. However, the paraders did not go through Mea Shearim; not only would the haredim not have listened, they would have become violent, and the parade would have caused injury. We must pick our battles, and decide when to speak.
This motif of silence is common throughout the Tanach. For instance, Aaron’s sons Nadab and Abihu offer God “alien” fire and are killed instantly. Aaron says nothing as he watches his sons die. Rashi posits that Aaron even “received a reward for his silence… [in that] the subsequent Divine address was made to him alone and not to Moses also” (Rashi 38). In this case, Aaron, and everyone else, knew that his sons were in the wrong. He had no grounds on which to object.
However, for other Biblical characters, silence is absolutely the wrong course of action. “My heart moans within me/ I cannot be silent” cries Jeremiah as he prophecies to Israel (Jer 4:19). Esther is warned by Mordechai, “If you keep silent in this crisis… you and your father’s house will perish!” (Esther 4:14). Esther makes her voice heard, in spite of the possible consequences.
The heroes and heroines of our tradition knew that at times, we must be like Aaron and protest only in our heart. Other times, we must be like Esther – be like my heroine, Alanis Morissette - and proclaim loudly for all to hear. But like Jacob in Vayishlach, who was silent when he knew his words would make no difference, and who then spoke with a vengeance when everyone was listening, we must decide when to jump into the fray.
Silence, by itself, is not wrong. Neither is voice. Our words will not always count, and we will not always be heard. The key is to realize when we are in an
[in Hebrew] et lachashot
or an [in Hebrew] et l'daber
And to act accordingly.
posted by Michal at 1:19 PM
3 Comments:
I have to congratulate you, Michal. Your sermon is powerfully moving, and personally addresses the listener. I was spellbound, as you expounded on our ancient texts in the relevancy of our lives this very day. You make me appreciate the "measuring stick" of moral and responsible behavior that Judaism offers. Wow! You have given me lots or ponder, and challenges to myself...including tryng to remember when to shut up.
yer Savta
Mazel tov! I agree - it was a very thought provoking drash.
Thank you, Sheryl! That means a lot, coming from you - I'm sure you've heard a lot of them!
And Savta - as always, you give the best feedback. :)
Post a Comment
<< Home