All my adult life I’ve been making this pilgrimage. At first, it was so lonely. The young women I knew who valued themselves as equal turned away from that which was Jewish – It’s the toxic patriarchy, they said. And the young ones who above all treasured being Jewish were not daring back then, not bold, they were afraid to stand apart and say, the role carved out for me as a woman in this tradition is unjust, far from full, complete, and I will do anything and everything I need to do to fight my way to the table. (Perhaps even more, they didn’t see that anything was awry.) And then I met Rachel, who cared enough to cry, fierce and broken tears, but never allowed her tears to be the end of it – no, for her, tears were the beginning of it. I held onto her as sister, held on in every way, as comforter, as ally, as pioneers together – they hurled insults and stones and threats at us but we were undeterred. Our passion never faltered.
And then Judith and Esther, who said, I see you, I see you are a sister – there are others too, come join us, and I did. Through the years, sharing fire, we warmed one another, sparked one another, illuminated one another, and yes, sometimes burned and scarred one another, but we kept coming back, kept coming back, we persisted. We dared and challenged and dreamed, we were always seeing new visions and working to make them reality. And, like Elaine Stritch, we’re still here.
Now there are so many visionaries and builders, darers and doers, there are too many to number, so many I don’t begin to know them all; we are like the stars in the heavens, like the promise that was made to us so long ago – yes, of course, we were promised as Abraham was promised – what was he going to do alone?! And even now, like Sarah, we bear children in our old age – female and male, nonbinary and trans – we bless them, and they bear children, and they bear children…
As I keep imagining myself toward Sinai, I realize ever more deeply why God the Father never worked for me – the father never worked for me, never, never. This past Sunday, on Skype, I was asked to join many others in blessing a couple celebrating their love, awaiting a day when they can stand together under a chuppah in real time with flesh and blood family and friends gathered round to shout mazel tov, to dance and rejoice and lift them on chairs. But for now, Skype.
Is there anything in the advice I would offer a new couple that has bearing on approaching Sinai? Well, for one, it’s hard work. You have to keep hanging in there, the work never stops – if you get lazy, if you succumb to the habit of taking it for granted, the relationship stops growing, and a relationship that isn’t growing is in danger of dying. What exactly constitutes hard work? Well, with Jew-ing, it’s learning, and doing, and being in joy; it’s asking questions, looking for old answers and new answers still only forming, and best of all, new questions; it’s finding a community in which to wrestle and celebrate and study. And sometimes isn’t it doing things you’d rather not do – I mean, surely that’s true in a marriage. Maybe that means making time to be in a minyan for someone saying kaddish, even when the timing is inconvenient. That seems like a decent start.
And listening. Listening for the call of the sacred, being on the lookout for the sacred. I’m fond of saying, listening is the exact opposite of riding a bike – every day you must learn all over again how to do it and practice anew. How to listen? Quiet your heart to receive, allow your breathing to slow. Just let go – of the busy you, the you who has such important, urgent things to do, the you who knows a lot. Instead, let go, and focus. Some say focus on your breath, for me, I take an imaginary journey deeper and deeper into my being, to the deepest part of – my heart? my kishkes? my memories, my dreams? I soften my heart, I close my eyes, I listen… Not by coincidence is this also one of the ways I write poetry.
When the listening is done, maybe do some writing, compose a song, paint, study, ask some questions, undertake some holy action in the world, walk the road to Sinai, or maybe realize you’re already standing there and take off your shoes for the ground under you is holy.
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For the Jewish life I’ve been privileged to live, I offer appreciation and gratitude to the many with whom I’ve walked and walk the road. I also appreciate and acknowledge my own agency in making a place for myself and others when none was offered us.
What is it like for you to approach Sinai? How/is it different this year?
Have you felt/do you feel “othered,” disempowered, rejected by Jewish communities, institutions, insiders, as I did because I was a woman? If you are reading this, you haven’t given up, walked away - what are you doing? what can you do? How can others support you, welcome you, be allies?
If you are someone who’s “on the inside,” be on the lookout for the vulnerable, the stragglers in the rear. Ask how you can help, then do it. Welcome them, walk alongside them.
Do you think you’ve become lazy as a Jew, too comfortable? How can you wake up?
What do you need, what are you listening for this year as you stand at Sinai?
May you make and enjoy and share a meaningful Shavuot!