Creating a cultural ‘V’Nahafoch Hu’

On the Shabbat before Purim, congregations around the world will read Parshat Zachor (Deuteronomy 25:17 – 19). In these three verses, we are commanded not once, but twice, to recall a dangerous attack on our people: We are told to remember (zachor) what the Amalekites did to the Israelites after they left Egypt – and also not to forget (lo tishkach).

Furthermore, we are commanded to blot out the memory of Amalek. What was the Amalekites’ ultimate sin to warrant all of this? They were the first to attack the Israelites after they fled Egypt, and they targeted the weak who lagged behind.

With this in mind, why do we read this story just before the Purim holiday?

In Megillat Esther we are told the story of Haman, who sought to annihilate the Jewish people. Haman is a descendent of Aggag, who is in turn a descendent of Amalek. In Megillat Esther we see history repeating itself, as Amalek, through his descendent, once again capitalizes on the opportunity to destroy the Jewish people.

What is the root cause of Amalek’s deep-seated hatred of the Jewish people?

The Babylonian Talmud (Sanhedrin 99b) tells the story of Timna, a princess who went before Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and asked to convert to their faith. Rejected, Timna subjected herself as a concubine for the descendents of Esau (Jacob’s brother) because she would “rather be a servant to this people [a relative of the Israelites] than a princess of another [her own] nation.”

There is no excuse for Amalek’s disproportionate and never-ending genocidal vendetta to destroy the Jewish people. 

Timna was the mother of Amalek, and out of Amalek’s resentment for the way his mother was treated, came a need to avenge his mother’s disgrace by setting out to destroy the nation that rejected her.

To be clear, this is not about victim blaming. There is no excuse for Amalek’s disproportionate and never-ending genocidal vendetta to destroy the Jewish people. Further, Amalek’s actions have since become the metaphoric, if not the actual, root of antisemitism. The Jewish people stood strong both then and now in the face of rising, ongoing attacks.

I do, however, want to focus on the modern-day “Timnas” in our communities and address the damage that can be carried over to individuals, and future generations when a “Timna” is rejected.

At a recent Porat event, co-sponsored by Jofa, titled “Welcoming Everyone to Shul: Why We Should Ensure Our Shuls Embrace LGBTQ+ Jews,” Rabbi Yosef Kanefsky, senior rabbi of B’nai David-Judea Congregation in Los Angeles, raised the possibility of creating a massive paradigm shift when it comes to welcoming people into the synagogue: Whereas the general trend in Orthodox synagogues has been to create accommodations as exceptions to the status quo, what if synagogues instituted a pivotal shift, to create a system of belonging altogether?

In the context of the Porat program, Rabbi Kanefsky spoke about people who identify as LGBTQ+. But of course, as executive director of Jofa – whose mission it is to expand women’s rights and opportunities within the framework of halakha, to build a vibrant and equitable Orthodox community – my mind logically shifted to other groups that also feel marginalized in the traditional Orthodox synagogue setting – women, people with disabilities, Jews by Choice and Jews of Color – whose experiences and needs are often ignored, excluded, or held to a different standard altogether. 

What if the barriers to a meaningful and respectful synagogue experience (and by extension, our day schools, communal institutions and even our Shabbat tables) were removed?

Here we come to another Purim lesson. The words v’nahafoch hu — and it was turned upside down — appear in the megillah (9:1), and have become a theme of the holiday, a part of our Purim shtick. But in all seriousness, isn’t it time to implement a cultural v’nahafoch hu, and intentionally invert the paradigm of belonging?

What if the barriers to a meaningful and respectful synagogue experience (and by extension, our day schools, communal institutions and even our Shabbat tables) were removed? What if we could demonstrate that every member and attendee must be welcomed and treated with respect and dignity, by implementing physical disability access around the building; respectful mechitzot enabling women to see and hear davening? What if we did not apply a double standard for Jews by Choice or Jews of Color? 

Recognizing that the fundamental function of a synagogue is to connect Jews with God and each other through communal prayer, Torah learning, celebration of life cycle events, and observance of Shabbat, why would we want anything less?

Recognizing that the fundamental function of a synagogue is to connect Jews with God and each other through communal prayer, Torah learning, celebration of life cycle events, and observance of Shabbat, why would we want anything less? What are the consequences of the shaming or rejection of these modern-day Timnas who want nothing more than to belong? To be sure, some who are subjected to negative experiences, or who are excluded because of synagogue policies may continue to attend synagogue and live Jewishly engaged lives in their respective Jewish communities, and some, rejected and hurt, will move on. Can we as a community afford to make decisions that harm individuals, and that may result in generational trauma? Isn’t it time for us to consider the benefits of diversity in our synagogues’ pews? Indeed, the Jerusalem Talmud in Berakhot 9:1 makes the value of diversity clear by prescribing the blessing to be said upon seeing a great multitude of people: 

הָרוֹאֶה אוֹכְלֹסִין אוֹמֵר בָּרוּךְ חֲכַם הָרָזִים. כְּשֵׁם שֶׁאֵין פַּרְצוּפֵיהֶן דּוֹמִין זֶה לָזֶה. כַּךְ אֵין דַּעְתָּן דוֹמֶה זֶה לָזֶה

One who sees multitudes says: Blessed is the Wise One in secrets! Just as their faces are not similar one to the other, so the opinions of one are not similar to another’s.

The ancient sages recognized that each of us is a unique being who was created in God’s image. That may feel like a contradiction in terms, but it is in fact one of our tradition’s greatest gifts to ourselves and our communities. 

We also have an opportunity and an obligation to prevent history from repeating itself by recognizing the Timnas in our midst, and creating a sense of belonging to become a vibrant and equitable Orthodox community. 

As we read Parshat Zachor, and hear the chanting of the words “Remember that which Amalek did to you,” maybe it is time to turn those words upside down and consider what we did to Timna. What if those words served as a reminder to each of us to be mindful of the impact of the marginalizing, shaming or flat-out rejection of those who want to be a part of the Jewish people in our own day?

This year, as we read Parshat Zachor, let’s do our due diligence to not forget and to actively remember the enemies we already have. We also have an opportunity and an obligation to prevent history from repeating itself by recognizing the Timnas in our midst, and creating a sense of belonging to become a vibrant and equitable Orthodox community.