Absence of Honest Communication - Rebecca’s Marriage - Toldot

I have been thinking about people who are afraid to speak honestly to their intimate partners about difficult topics. This blog post is about those who are reluctant to speak and their partners, who might need to build the trust that makes open communication more likely and ‘safer’.

I was very surprised to learn that, in the Torah text (1) that contains Rebecca’s story, she never spoke openly with her husband, Isaac. In fact, she only spoke to him once in the whole story. In this instance, instead of disclosing her terrible fear that one of their children was scheming to kill the other, she talked about prospective marriage partners as a reason for her son – the potential victim – to leave town (2).

Although the Torah informs us that her husband Isaac loved her (3), and described their intimacy as laughter (4), their love and laughter did not necessarily lead to strong communication. When Rebecca felt distressed during her pregnancy she spoke about her pain, but not to her husband (5). She and her husband each had different favourite sons: Isaac loved Esau, but Rebecca loved Jacob (6). We do not read that they ever discussed their divergent views about their children. On Isaac’s deathbed, he decided to bless his favoured son, Esau. This was not acceptable to Rebecca, so she orchestrated for her favourite son, Jacob, to deceive her husband by impersonating his older brother (7). Perhaps a discussion between Rebecca and her husband could have prevented this drama that led to much pain for all concerned (8).

One commentator (9) suggests that this reticence began the moment Rebecca first saw Isaac. It was fright at first sight. Rebecca first set eyes on her future husband and quickly fell off the camel she was riding on, then grabbed a veil and covered herself (10). She fell of the camel out of fear, and veiled herself out of shame, believing that she was not worthy to be the wife of such a holy man (11). The veil was not merely an expression of modesty, but symbolic of the way Rebecca metaphorically veiled her personality in her dealings with her husband (12).

Rebecca’s reticence is remarkable in how it contrasts with the accounts of the other matriarchs and patriarchs who spoke out when they were upset. Sarah vented her simmering resentments passionately, when she felt slighted by her fellow wife, Hagar (13). Jacob expressed his anger toward Rachel when she demanded he solve the problem of her infertility (14).

Rebecca’s predicament illustrates the way some couples fail to communicate and suffer. No doubt, there are cases where they tried to communicate, and the response was disappointing. It could be that an expression of pain meets a defensive reply, or one that seeks to assign blame to the one complaining. It can be scary to give voice to unhappiness, and no doubt some partners decide it is not worth it. This blog invites two questions. One is to those of us who are reluctant to talk. Are we willing to think again about the possible benefits of speaking our truth and whether the risks can be mitigated in the way we talk? And the second question is to partners or family members who might be viewed as less than approachable. How do we ensure that our partners or family members feel safe and confident to talk to us and expect that we will listen with an open heart and mind?

 

Notes

 

1)     See from Genesis 24:64 to Genesis 27:46

2)     Genesis 27:46

3)     Genesis 24:67

4)     Genesis 26:8

5)     Genesis 25:22

6)     Genesis 25:28

7)     Genesis 27:1-29

8)     Haemek Davar, to Genesis 24:64, https://www.sefaria.org/Haamek_Davar_on_Genesis.24.64?lang=en cited in Lamm, N. Drashot L’Dorot, Genesis.

9)     Haemek Davar, ibid

10)  Genesis 24:64-65

11)  Haemek Davar, ibid

12)  Lamm, N. (2012), Drashot L’Dorot, Genesis. P. 105

13)  Genesis 16:5 as translated and interpreted in the Targumim Yonatan ben Uziel and Jerusalem for fuller detail

14)  Genesis 30:2

 

Communication without common language – Jewish Reflection on Abu Dhabi Muslim Peace Forum - Vayigash

My translation earphones went silent for a few minutes, as I sat at the Forum for Promoting Peace in Muslim Societies. For three days in Abu Dhabi, from December 2-4, mostly Muslim, but also Christian and Jewish; religious leaders, academics and politicians spoke to the delegates in Arabic, English and French.

The speeches were simultaneously translated into the other two of the three main languages. That worked, until Imam Abdullahi Abubakar (83) from Nigeria spoke in his native language; Hausa.

This Imam had risked his life when he confronted an extremist gunman seeking to kill two hundred and seventy-five Christians that he had sheltered in his Mosque and home. The softly spoken, bearded, black man in the blue turban had told the attacker to kill him first, and succeeded in saving the lives of the Christians.

While many words were spoken at this Forum, it was his heroic deed and our inability to understand him that captured both the spirit and a challenge of the forum, respectively.

As someone who is concerned about bridging the divide between Muslims, Jews, Christians and others, I found  the forum reassuring. It was convened by one of the most accomplished Islamic authorities in the world, Sheik Abdul Bin Bahya.

There were many hundreds of guests, from a vast number of countries from Mauritania to Afghanistan. They were predominantly Muslim leaders, as the main object was change within the Muslim global community. However, many sessions included Christian and Jewish speakers as part of interfaith panels, demonstrating their commitment to dialogue by putting it into practice.

There was also lively, more informal interaction outside the sessions, between religious leaders of the various faiths present. I noticed the acclaimed US Muslim leader Hamza Yusuf deep in conversation with one of the US based senior Rabbis late into the night. A UK based Imam was delighted to chat with me about Muslim and Hasidic spiritual singing. These are just a few of the examples I saw.

On the other hand, there was a lot of potential for dialogue that was not realised. The language barrier was a big factor. The Jewish delegation of more than a dozen rabbis, based primarily in the US and Israel, as well as two women, and similarly, many of the delegates from across Asia and Africa, simply did not have any common language with which to connect. I often felt bad, as I walked past people with unfamiliar cultural dress and we just looked at each other, silently.

Our gracious Abu Dhabi hosts provided us with certified Kosher hot food that was served in a side room. On some occasions, some of us took our food out to the area where others were eating and joined them for meals. On other occasions many of us chose to stay with our fellow Jews during the meals.

One day over lunch we discussed an alternative approach to a tradition that seems to legitimise a view of non-Jewish people as inherently antisemitic. One of the rabbis raised an alternative version of that passage, which applies only to a particular person in a particular time. Perhaps more such internal conversations occurred within each faith group, complementing those held between people with different faiths.

One strategy that facilitated dialogue was the small group breakout session.  I joined twenty delegates in the South East Asia group. We discussed local words that carry the spirit of the forum. In Indonesia they have a word for “religious moderation”: Wasatia.

As part of Wasatia they strategically moved the study of the caliphates from the religious law syllabus to the history section. An evangelical minister from Mindanao, in the Philippines, taught us the word Kapua that combines being a good neighbour with seeing oneself in the other. I offered the term Ahavat Ha’ger- love of the powerless stranger.

On reflection, I think I was too worried about words. The most moving part of the breakout session was heartfelt sharing in Arabic by an older Mufti, also from Mindanao, whose people have finally reached a peace agreement with their government. I did not understand what he was saying but it touched me because I could feel it came from his heart, rather than an artificial performance from his head.

Another highlight was the Koranic singing and message of Farid Ahmed, in a wheelchair, from Christchurch. His wife was murdered in the attack but he forgave the killer. His heartfelt message to the white supremacists was: we don’t hate you!

The forum culminated with the signing of a charter for a new alliance of virtue. It is hoped that this covenant between people of all faiths will enable us to relate to each other as partners rather than as the “other”.

So I am less concerned about how much the words, spoken or unspoken, at the Forum will matter in the implementation of this noble effort. Instead I look beyond the words, to the sincerity in the hearts of those present, and to the deeds already being undertaken by many in that room and beyond it.

This reflection was first published in plus61J.

Postscript: Shortly after my experience in Abu Dhabi I spent two weeks with my parents and four of my children in Crown Heights, Brooklyn. Recent alarming Antisemitic violence, including murder and stabbings - perpetrated by many Black individuals - made me feel less safe walking some streets there, but more importantly, highlights the need for engagement between these communities. Yet, the primarily English-speaking Hasidic Jews and Blacks, who live there side by side, have such profound cultural differences that they might as well be speaking different languages.

In the Torah reading this week we read about a plea for the life of a Jewish youth, by the Hebrew speaking Judah to the Egyptian speaking Viceroy. “I beg of you my master, may your servant please speak a matter, into your ears?” (1). This is interpreted as a specific request: can I speak to you directly rather than through the interpreter (2). Judah’s deep respect for the viceroy (3) combined with his sincerity and pathos in making his case would come through despite the language barrier and touch the heart of his listener (4). There must be some implications in this insight, for Jewish and black communities in the New York- New Jersey area at this time. I am still mulling over what is happening and my experience there, however, it is clear that gaps between the communities can be bridged if deeply felt goodwill and respect will be in evidence in the unspoken communication between the vast majority of the members of these communities.

1) Genesis 44:18.

2) Midrash Habiur, manuscript cited in Torah Shlaima on Genesis 44:18, 65, p. 1636; Kedushas Levi, in 2008 Ohr Hachayim edition, Jerusalem, p. 100.

3) For example: his comparison of the Viceroy to the Pharaoh in Genesis 44:18, as understood by Rashi (first explanation), Seforno and R. Moshe Dovid Vali, Ohr Olam (Genesis Vol. 2), second explanation, Hamesora Publishers, Jerusalem, p. 364.

4) Kedushas Levi, ibid. [ It should be noted that the Kedushas Levi states  that Judah assumed that the viceroy would understand Hebrew, unlike the approach I've taken to make this point in this article. However this point of his, regarding the emotional impact of direct interpersonal communication, is really an independent insight, that it goes beyond that which is captured in the words themselves..]

Interaction between “the Certain”, the “Chosen” and the Text Ki Tavo

Photo copyright by Damien Begovic, Dialogue at the
Together for Humanity stall at the Multicultural Eid Festival
18 August 2013, Fairfield, Sydney Australia

Yesterday I was surrounded by a civil, well intentioned, confident group of bearded young Muslim males of Arabic and other backgrounds. I was in my element, I had been warmly welcomed by the organizer of this outreach event, I was offered dates and Arabic coffee, I had lovely conversations with several Muslims that I knew previously and we were talking religion. While on one level I enjoyed the next discussion, there was something a bit challenging with the rather robust dialogue I got into with this group, I felt like I was being targeted for conversion. When I reflected on it and my own reactions to this experience as well as other heart-warming experiences this week, it got me thinking about what works in interfaith interaction and on one of the topics we discussed, the notion of the Jews being God’s chosen people.

Ahmad  asked me about a verse in the Torah that he thinks predicted the rising of another prophet like Moses. The text states “I will set up a prophet for them from among their brothers like you, and I will put My words into his mouth ”. I had never thought of it as relating to a specific prophet and explained to him that the Torah has at least 70 different explanations. That was not good enough for him, there had to be one right answer, otherwise “there will be confusion”. So I explained that the verse refers not to one specific prophet, but to the concept of prophecy which applied to many men and women. I got the text on my smart phone and showed the context of the verse. It follows a warning not to seek superficial certainties through sorcery, but instead to seek guidance from God’s messengers. This made little impression on Ahmad and his friends, who continued to insist that I was wrong because the singular form of the word “prophet” proved that it was talking about one person.

Ahmad then posed a much more powerful challenge relating to the relationship between God and the Jews vs. God’s relationship to all people. Did I believe in a tribal God of Israel or a Universal God of all people and things? What did I think about the chosen people? These questions could have led to a thoughtful exchange that would have helped all of us gain greater understanding of each other’s’ faiths.  Unfortunately at this stage, my headspace was anything but thoughtful. Instead I was part of a game I never agreed to play, that of seeking to convince each other about truths. The absurdity of it, was that here I was being challenged about the meaning of my own sacred text by people who had limited knowledge of it and could not read it in its original language. This is always a bad move. We are on much safer ground when we speak about our own text and show openness to those who follow a text to tell us what it means to them.

In a more curious dialogue, I would have compared Jewish and Islamic texts relating to the way that Moses introduces God to Pharaoh (Firaon in Arabic). In the Torah, Moses states: "So said the Lord God of Israel, 'Send out My people’’ " and he also refers to the “God of the Hebrews ”. In the Quran we a significant difference in the way Moses (or Musa) refers to God. He states: “Oh Pharaoh! Lo! I am a messenger from the Lord of the worlds…I come to you with a clear proof from your Lord. So let the children of Israel go with me ”.  The Islamic text presents a universal God of the “worlds” who is even the Lord of Pharaoh himself.  Putting this in context, God is introduced as the creator of the universe, who is terribly concerned about injustice in the pagan society of Sodom.  I would argue that Jews clearly see God as universal rather than what I regard as the ridiculous notion of an exclusive Jewish God.  The idea of a God of Israel is more about the dedication of Israel to the one God than it is about ownership in the way that people talk of the sports team they are fans of as being “their team”.

The question of the Chosen people is often taken to mean that Jews have a sense of superiority. It is hard to argue with that interpretation when we consider the text in the reading Ki Tavo. “the Lord has selected you this day to be His treasured people, as He spoke to you, and so that you shall observe all His commandments, and to make you supreme (higher), above all the nations that He made… ”. I do not take this as a license to chauvinism or arrogance. I would broadly agree with the Muslim woman I enjoyed a most respectful conversation with at our Together For Humanity stall we had on Sunday at the Multicultural Eid festival. She understood choseness as reflecting the fact that the Jews had chosen to worship and believe in God. One commentator understands the key word האמירך (He-Eemircha) which some translate as chosen, to mean that He caused you to say and be willing to be a people for (eg. committed to) God because he did so many miracles (for the Jews) . The context clearly shows that the people were chosen to obey commandments.

Another commentator sees a strong universatlist agenda in all this. The purpose of the Jews special status is not for their benefit but for God to achieve through them what he wanted to achieve with the human species. The elevation is for the purpose of understanding and teaching monotheism .  I prefer these explanations to the one that suggest that even if another nation (Umma in Hebrew) will come and will do good, and will try to attach to the Divine presence they will not be able to acheve the level of Israel  . Not all interpretation is convenient, and I need to present a balanced view.

The discussion with Ahmad and friends continued to confront me. I explained that in Judaism there is no need for others to convert as long as they obey 7 key principals (laws for all children of Noah), one of which is establishment of law and justice which I interpret as including participation in the democratic process. I got an argument against democracy in favour of theocracy.

After this exchange, I talked to three other Muslim men one of whom was concerned about how I might have felt after the unofficial debate/conversion effort. Another walked me to my car and engaged me in a real open minded and open hearted conversation reflecting genuine curiosity and true gentleness of spirit. In my short conversation with him I learned some interesting similarities between Islam and Judaism as we understand Satan/Shaytan as an agent of God whose role is to tempt us. I put the more challenging (but not “bad” experience in context of all these much more pleasant conversations this week and indeed even at the same generally enjoyable event.  This little confrontation pales into significance when I compare it with the highlight of my week when Jewish students from the Emanuel School recited the blessing after meals among mostly Arabic Muslim students at Punchbowl Boys High School, followed by a dozen Muslim students doing the afternoon prayer in unison. Both groups of teenagers silently showed the greatest respect for each other, followed by genuinely curious questions, seeking understanding.

Certainties and claims to Choseness present challenges as well as opportunities for learning about each other and how to get along.

Chutzpah! "Inappropriate Talk"

"Tell the tall buildings in Mahattan, I am a Lubavitcher"
shouted Y at a late night "Farbrengen"/debate mocking the
idea that young idealists can tell the big world anything

This week began with the news of the terrible murder and loss of innocents in Connecticut. May their families find some measure of comfort and their souls find peace.

 

One confronting immediate response to these deaths on social media was to complain about the coverage of a western tragedy and calling attention to the violent or preventable deaths of children in other countries. Was it proper to use the opportunity to make that point at that time? Can there ever be a wrong time and can there ever be considerations of propriety that are more important than the life of a child?

On a far more trivial level, the other morning I had the slight discomfort of being in the same small room as a man I will call B., who won’t talk to me on principle.  He objects to my working together with Muslims or Arabs or Christians as a matter of religious principle. On one level is it hurtful, we have known each other a long time. I think there might also be some ego involved. B has not had the opportunity to study the Torah in depth yet he thinks it is his place to rule me, a Rabbi, out of order. I don’t see myself superior just because of a bit of extra knowledge, yet in this case I had a passing though of indignation. “Is it his place to issue Halachic rulings against what I do?!” It’s not serious but it ties into my topic, Chutzpa, which can be loosely translated as impudence.

As a rule, Chutzpah, which is modern slang is seen as kind of spunky and cute, is traditionally seen as a bad thing. Yet, the other side of the argument is that some notions of propriety and good manners may result in silence in the face of injustice.  Jewish law requires a student to reproach even a teacher if the teacher is doing something wrong ([i]). This past Sunday I was at a book launch about the protest against the Holocaust by Aboriginal leader William Cooper. I learned that the protest was completely ignored at the time, no record of it remains, it was never sent to Berlin, nor does it feature in the diary of the German Consul in Melbourne or his superior in Sydney ([ii]). The Nazis would have seen it as “inappropriate” that black Aborigines would dare tell them what is right. Yet his protest continues to inspire and challenge us today.

In our Torah reading this week we have a touching example of disregarding propriety when the wellbeing of a child is at stake.  Judah approaches ([iii]) the Egyptian viceroy who is threatening to enslave his younger half-brother Benjamin. The body language implied in the approach is, at least according to one commentator, to be one of “war ([iv])”. He disregards the normal conduct of the world which is to ask permission first and only then to enter, Judah approaches first and ask for permission later ([v]). Another commentator has Judah “break down the door and come before Joseph with his brothers ([vi])”.

Judah’ begins by saying “please my master, may your servant speak words in the ears of my master and let my master not be angry with your servant because you are like Pharaoh ([vii])”.  On one level we have the deferential language about servant and master, in fact in this one monologue Judah refers to himself, his father and brothers as Joseph’s slaves eleven times ([viii])! Yet commentators draw many inferences that paint a much more aggressive posture. Asking Joseph not to get angry is taken as proof that he plans to speak harshly ([ix]) that is likely to provoke the ruler. His comparison of Joseph to Pharaoh is interpreted by some, not as flattery but as a suggestion that just Pharaoh lusted after Sarah because of her beauty, Joseph’s interest in Benjamin was also based on desire for Benjamin’s beauty ([x]). Judah takes the view that when the wellbeing and safety of a child is a stake, restraint based on polite protocols must be disregarded.

The theme of disregarding protocol can also be seen earlier in Joseph’s story. After Joseph successfully interprets the king’s dream, he oversteps the boundaries and goes beyond his brief as dream interpreter. Rather than knowing his place and not “speaking before one who is greater than himself” ([xi]) as a slave and recently released prisoner in front of a king he proceeds to offer Pharaoh unsolicited advice about how to manage his economy and save his country. Even more audaciously, Joseph might have been angling for a senior government position as a prospective manager of the Egyptian economy ([xii]). “Now, Pharaoh should see (to find) a man, understanding and wise and put him in charge of the land of Egypt ([xiii])”.  Hint, hint… here Joseph broke with protocol and appropriate conduct, yet this breach saved the country from terrible starvation in a famine with the elevation of Joseph.

In the rich tapestry of views the same situations have alternative interpretations. Rather than Joseph seeking appointment to the position he suggested, he was merely doing his duty as a prophet who cannot keep back the prophecy ([xiv]). This experience of prophecy is described by Jeremiah as if “in my heart as it were a burning fire shut up in my bones and I weary myself to hold it but cannot ([xv])”.  We also find Pharaoh repeating his intention to appoint Joseph to the position as if Joseph did not believe it ([xvi]). First Pharaoh tell Joseph: “after God has made all this known to you, there is no one as understanding and wise as you (therefore) you will be (in a position of authority) over my house and according to your mouth will my nation be sustained, only in (occupying) the throne will I be greater than you ([xvii])”.  The story continues with Pharaoh speaking to Joseph again, “look, I have put you over all of the land of Egypt ([xviii])”. No Chutzpa here. Similarly, there are interpretations of Judah’s approach to Joseph that highlight his respect for the ruler and a more pleading and conciliatory stance ([xix]).

I think Chutzpa is a tool for exceptional circumstances. Perhaps the more typical stance is the one taken by Jacob when he blesses Pharaoh when he first meets him and when he leaves him ([xx]) to teach us proper conduct about how a person should enter to see the face of royalty ([xxi])”. So I defend the right of B, to ignore me if he thinks he is standing up for what is right and the “tweeters” to be insensitive to the time of mourning of some people in the sincere hope of saving others.  May we all have the wisdom to know when to be civil, proper and polite and when to scream and break down some doors with chutzpa!

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[i] Talmud Bava Metzia 31a

[ii] Talk by Konrad Kweit and the book launch at the Sydney Jewish Museum 9/12/2012

[iii] Genesis 44:18

[iv] Bereshit Rabba 93 according to the view of Rabbi Judah

[v] Midrash Habiur, from a manuscript cited in Torah Shlaima p.1635

[vi] Sefer Hayashar

[vii] Genesis 44:18

[viii] Genesis 44:18-34

[ix] Rashi

[x] Daat Zkainim Mibaalei Hatosafot, and with variation in Bereshit Rabba 93 and other sources cited in Torah Shlaima p.1636

[xi] Pirkey Avot one of the seven definitions of the wise

[xii] Ramban to Genesis 41:33 

[xiii] Genesis 41:33 

[xiv] Abarbanel, cited in Leibovitz, N. New Studies in Bereshit p.448

[xv] Jeremiah 20:9

[xvi] Midrashei Torah by Anselm Astruc, cited in Leibovitz, N. New Studies in Bereshit p.447

[xvii] Genesis 41:39-40

[xviii] Genesis 41:41

[xix] Rashi, Bchor Shor, others

[xx] Gnesis 47:7 & 10

[xxi] Lekach Tov cited in Torah Shlaima p.1708

Discrimination, Purim and International Women’s Day

Tomorrow, 8^th of March 2012, Jews will celebrate Purim and may others will mark International Women’s day.  A common thread is discrimination, which so often involved the strong seeking to dominate and oppress the weak.

The book of Esther has an early enlightened almost multicultural element.  The king’s ball will not require guests to adhere to the Persian custom that forced people to drink a lot of wine[i], instead there will be no compulsion to accommodate the will of every man[ii]. Commentary tells us the background to this decision was the king accommodating a religious request from the Jewish sage Mordechai[iii].

It goes downhill quickly.  The drunken king demands that the queen Vashti, appear before the guests wearing nothing[iv] but her crown to show off her beauty to the nations and officials[v]. The king is very angered by her refusal, his anger burned within him. According to one interpretation he seeks advice from Jewish sages, who are afraid to get involved so they say they don’t have the authority to judge such a matter[vi]. 

Haman[vii] steps into the vacuum and suggests that what is at stake here is the authority of men over women[viii]. He argues that women will despise their husbands and there will be much disgrace and anger. Women having some right to make decisions for themselves is equated with anarchy, much as arguments were later made for paternalistic attitudes toward blacks and colonised peoples.

The King decrees that men rule in their own home and speak in the language of his own nation[ix].  Ironically, this instruction about language dominance is conveyed to each province in its own language and script[x]. I see a civilisation that is aware of the importance of language and yet seeks to deprive its women the right to full expression in their own native language. Essentially, communicating in a language learned later in life can often make it very hard to express emotions[xi]. This is has a significant impact on the power dynamic, as I think the following anecdote shows. 

Rabbi X. was one of the scholars at the Talmudic college who had quite a harsh way of dealing with his students. His first language was Yiddish, which I speak fluently, but I spoke with him in English. He once asked me why other students would stop by my table during study for a chat. I told him, I guess I am a nice guy. He said “you not nice guy, you nice garbage!” He probably meant that I was not respecting myself and my study time and wanted to put me in my place. The fact that he had to deliver his sting in a non-native language made him clumsy and weakened his position of authority over me.  

Demonstrating the principle that where inequality takes root it soon spreads, we see bigotry soon follows the sexism.  The king accepts Haman’s argument that there are a people who don’t assimilate, as they have different laws[xii]. They are assumed to be disobeying the king’s laws, no trial, evidence, due process or consultation of the “wise men” required for this judgement, following the precedent of the quick decision to execute Vasht[xiii].  It is not worth the kings while to spare them. 

Fittingly, it is the words of a woman that save the day, as the king listens to Esther’s words and cancels his decree to kill the Jews of his kingdom.  

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[i] Ohr Hachayim on Esther 1:8

[ii] Esther 1:8

[iii] Meam Loez

[iv] Midrash

[v] Esther 1:11

[vi] Talmud Megilla 12b

[vii] The text attributes the advice to Memuchan but the Midrash and Talmud tells us this was a nickname for Haman

[viii] Esther 1:16-19

[ix] Esther 1:22

[x] http://www.lookstein.org/articles/irony_and_theology.htm

[xi] http://counselingoutfitters.com/vistas/vistas08/Faubert.htm, first brought to my attention by my colleague, life coach Ronit Baras

[xii] Esther 3:8

[xiii] Yosef Lekach