Judaism – Feminism and Religion

On Ancestors, Judaism, Patriarchy, and Gratefulness.

The other day my partner, her mother, and I visited one of the family gravesites. We go together all three of us, or just sometimes my partner and I, at least two times a year. My partner’s mother certainly goes more often, especially to the gravesites in Prague. I have noticed that Christians, Jews, Buddhists, Muslims, and the non-religious alike are all often buried in one cemetery, although it is sometimes divided into sections to accommodate some religious beliefs; that seems to be the case in many places throughout the country.

It is typical to visit the cemetery on Dušičky, or All Souls’ Day, and most Czechs, regardless of religious background, participate in the tradition. While this is a common time to visit, it is very typical to see Czechs in cemeteries tending to gravesites throughout the year. This involves cleaning them, washing the gravestones, removing spent flowers and offerings, adding new ones, and lighting candles in remembrance. Cemeteries in the Czech Republic are busy, colorful, peaceful places on account of this. My partner’s family will also offer prayers after finishing the ritual, but I am not sure if this is common as I only ever go with them.

The Color of Mourning is Greige by Madison Jackson

Life is full of color, and nothing is ever black and white. Mourning teaches us that no color remains alone and that every shade has its season under heaven. People often associate grief with black clothing and dreary weather, but grief isn’t simply black and white. It is greige. Not because grief is dull, but because grief is transitional. Greige is not the absence of color, but the space in which we learn to see color differently. Like mourning itself, we often dismiss neutral colors because they are not eye-catching and feel indecisive. Instead, we gravitate towards vibrant colors and complementary color combinations. Yet greige has become a staple in design because it softens its surrounding colors. Perhaps this is why greige can be associated with the season of mourning, as it does not ask sorrow to replace joy, or memory to replace hope. Instead, it simply creates space for them to exist until another season under heaven arrives.

Mourning is a Season of the Divine by Madison Jackson

If mourning truly had an expiration date, then wouldn’t our memories have one too? We often rush the uncomfortable moments in our lives because we assume pain prevents us from living. In doing so, we begin to treat happiness as the emotional state we are meant to preserve. Yet happiness, like grief, has its own season. It comes and goes, but our memories always stay. In fact, if we truly lived in a permanent state of one emotion then a loss would lose its significance, and our memories would not hold so much power over our emotions.

Judaism understands this paradox well. Rather than treating mourning as something to overcome, Judaism understands mourning as a practice for which the living honor the dead. As Tisha B’Av approaches, the Jewish calendar invites participants into collective grief, by refraining from life’s pleasures, including intimacy and celebration. Then six days later, Tu B’Av marks a season of love and renewal. The transition from Tisha B’Av to Tu B’Av reflects the impermanence of human emotion, as grief and joy come and go, but our memories stay. This vision of life is expressed in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8. There is “a time for being born and a time for dying” (Ecclesiastes 3:2), as well as “a time to weep and a time to laugh” Ecclesiastes 3:4. While Lamentations is traditionally read on Tisha B’Av, Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 complements a new perspective on mourning, as mourning is a process that occurs throughout the year, not just on particular days.

From the Archives: “On Sh’lach.”

This post was originally published on 22 June 2022. Sh’lach was the Torah portion for yesterday, 13 July 2026. I have made only two edits: updated the pictures and clarified the chapter number and verses for the reference about tzitzit. I highly recommend one read the verses for a better understanding of my comments as I was rather brief. I have included a link to make doing so easier.

The Torah portion for the upcoming Shabbat is Beha’alotecha, which I have already discussed here. Thus, in this blog post, I will discuss the Torah portion for June 25th, Sh’lach (Numbers 13:1 – 15:41). Sh’lach contains the sending of scouts into the Land, the spreading of a bad report, more Israelite disobedience, conditional divine forgiveness accompanied by divine punishments, a description of types of offerings in the Land, the stoning to death of a Shabbat-breaker, and the commandment for tzitizit. From a feminist perspective there are two main areas I want to focus on in this post: the many ways in which the death penalty is prevalent in this parshah and the commandment for tzitizit.

Sh’lach has essentially two examples of death penalties, both, if the reader can believe it, divinely-inspired/required. First, let us look at the case of the man gathering wood. In verse 15:32, a few Israelites catch a man gathering wood on Shabbat. They take him to Moses, Aaron, and the entire congregation (15:33), all of whom were not sure what to do with him. Moses consults with the deity, who pronounces a death penalty by stoning outside of the camp (15:35). The people do as divinely instructed (15:36).

Besides the fact that I genuinely oppose the death penalty, the sentence here does not fit the transgression. How does breaking Shabbat warrant death? It does not.

From the Archives: God’s Womb by Joyce Zonana

The first time I came across the phrase, I thought I must be making a mistake. “Que Dieu l’enveloppe dans sa matrice,” the passage read in French, “May God’s womb enfold her.” or possibly, “May God enfold her in His womb.” His womb?

This was originally posted on Feb. 27th 2021

The first time I came across the phrase, I thought I must be making a mistake. “Que Dieu l’enveloppe dans sa matrice,” the passage read in French, “May God’s womb enfold her,” or possibly, “May God enfold her in His womb.” His womb?

I’d just started translating Ce pays qui te ressemble [A Land Like You], Tobie Nathan’s remarkable novel of Egypt’s Jews in the first half of the twentieth-century, and I couldn’t be sure I was correct in thinking that “womb” was the proper rendering for “matrice.” But a quick search confirmed my hunch. Matrice (from the Latin matrix < mater) might be translated as “matrix” or “mould,” but that made no sense here. “Uterus or womb” was the anatomical meaning, and it was the first meaning listed in my French dictionary.

The phrase, or something very like it, kept turning up, always after a dead person was named:

Que Dieu accueille son âme en sa matrice.

Que Dieu l’enveloppe dans sa matrice.

Que Dieu la berce dans sa matrice.

May God’s womb welcome his soul.

May God’s womb enfold him.

May God’s womb cradle her.

In all, “God’s womb” is mentioned seven times in this novel set in Cairo’s ancient Jewish quarter, Haret al-Yahud. Each time, it’s part of a ritual prayer, a formulaic wish for the wellbeing of a departed soul. But what extraordinary wellbeing is wished for here, what a remarkable envisioning of God as the possessor of a welcoming, warm womb.

Legacy of Carol P. Christ: JUSTICE AND PREJUDICE IN THE “PROPHETIC TRADITION”

This was originally posted July 14, 2014

Besides being advocates of social justice, the prophets of Israel were advocates of “exclusive monotheism,” exclusively “male monotheism,” “religious othering,” and “religious prejudice.”

Many progressive Jews and Christians find inspiration in prophets because of their insistence that their God cares about the poor and “the widow at the gate.” For progressive Christians, Jesus stands in the prophetic tradition, and the core of his message is “concern for the poor.” For progressive Jews the prophetic tradition is the root of their concern for human rights.

Those who locate their spirituality and concern for social justice in the prophets can point proudly to Martin Luther King and the many priests, ministers, and rabbis, as well as ordinary Christians and Jews who marched with him as exemplars of the prophetic tradition.

But the prophetic tradition also has a nasty underside.

On Active Waiting, Counting the Omer, and Our Connection to Nature.

We wait. We wait for the bus. We wait for the spring to return. We wait for our first cup of coffee (or tea? Do people actually wait for tea?) in the morning. We wait at traffic lights. We wait for test results. We spend a lot of our lives waiting.

We also can’t wait. To be 5 and a half. To be an adult. To start the school year. To spend time with our friends. To go on vacation. To find a (new) (better) job. We wait for a better world. Waiting can be fraught with anything from nervous energy to debilitating anxiety.

This waiting happens for both seemingly insignificant but also profound reasons. However, waiting does not mean inaction. It does not mean that we sit around hoping something will happen for us or to us. Yes, there are some aspects of life we cannot change or hurry the results. Yet, there are many parts of waiting that require our active participation.

From the Archives: Passover and the Exodus: A Feminist Reflection on Action, Hope, and Legacy by Michele Stopera Freyhauf

This was originally posted on March 26, 2015

Last week, Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg was in the news again, but not for reasons you would expect. She, along with Rabbi Lauren Holtzblatt, penned a feminist essay about the Exodus title “The Heroic and Visionary Women of Passover.” Finding this story was exciting, especially because I am so drawn to the Exodus story (the intrigue and curiosity of which caused me to return to school and study, as one of my main areas of focus, Hebrew Scriptures – along with Archaeology and Ancient Near Eastern History). Now women’s roles in this story are being elevated thanks to Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Rabbi Holtzblatt.

Before I discuss the message and the importance this message brings, I think it is important to know an important fact about Justice Ginsburg. Ginsburg is not observant, but does embrace her Jewish identity. When her mother died, she was excluded from the mourner’s minyan because she was a woman; an event in Judaism that is meant to comfort the mourner, brings a sense of community, and is considered obligatory – a means of honoring our mother/father. This important event left an impression and sent a loud message that inspired and influenced her career path – she did not count – she had no voice – she had no authority to speak. No wonder her life and career focuses so much on women’s rights and equality.

As many of us know, the story of Exodus is focused on two things 1) Moses and 2) liberation from the bonds of servitude and enslavement; women are rarely discussed. In the essay co-authored by Ginsberg, women are described as playing a crucial role in defying the orders of Pharaoh and helping to bring light to a world in darkness. In the Exodus event, God had partners – five brave women are the first among them, according to Ginsburg and Holtzblatt. These women are: Continue reading “From the Archives: Passover and the Exodus: A Feminist Reflection on Action, Hope, and Legacy by Michele Stopera Freyhauf”

From the Archives: “On Purim and the Value of Courage.”

Author’s Note: This post was first published on 10 March 2013. This year, Purim was on the 2nd of March. This post has updated imagery.

The Jewish Festival of Purim and the book of Esther offer us an opportunity to reflect on the value of courage from a feminist perspective. The online Webster’s Dictionary defines courage as, “mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty.” In religious discourse, courage is often categorized as a virtue or a moral principle. Aristotle (384BCE – 322BCE), one of the most famous of the virtue ethicists, believed a virtue like courage should be practiced according to the mean or the right amount. Too much courage leaves one rash, possibly too reactionary and hot-headed while too little makes one cowardly and weak, but just the right amount in a given situation leads to moral behavior. Virtuous living leads to happiness, or perhaps is itself happiness, for Aristotle. Yet, as a feminist, I understand the worth of courage differently. To me, the value of courage lies not in individualistic gains nor in personal happiness but in its use toward achieving justice and equality in society.

From the Archives: On My Invitation as a Jew to Participate in Advent and Christmas by Ivy Helman.

This was originally posted Dec. 8, 2019.

I attend Czech classes twice a week. This time of year the courses focus on Christmas. I’ve attended three different schools over the last five years, and all handle Christmas similarly. Even though the Czech Republic is only marginally Christian, for many Czechs being Czech and observing Christmas seem to go hand-in-hand. In fact, Czech customs around Christmas even figure into the citizenship exam.

In last Tuesday’s class, my teacher asked me how I celebrate Christmas here. She knows I’m Jewish. When I said that I don’t observe Christmas traditions in my home, she responded, “you don’t have to be a believer to do Advent-related and Christmasy things. Only 20% of Czechs are, and yet we all participate in Advent and Christmas.” It was part invitation, part assimilation request. However, the excited in-class discussion felt more like an attempt at conversion. Don’t you want to be a part of this amazingly joyful time? Continue reading “From the Archives: On My Invitation as a Jew to Participate in Advent and Christmas by Ivy Helman.”