Parashat Pinchas and God’s response to sexual violence

Pinhas  5783  Rachel Braun  https://www.rachelbraun.net

This week’s parasha, Pinhas, includes a census of the fighting troops of the Israelites.  This is a timely effort. Many Israelites have been killed in the plague following their involvement with Midianite women, the time for entering the Land is near, and apportionment of the Land by tribe will ensue.  But the peculiar naming of tribal groupings in this Census provokes some interesting commentary on violence against women.

Here’s some of the text (Numbers 26:1-2, 5-6):

 (snip)

It’s odd that the descendants’ names are repeated: “of Enoch, the clan of the Enochites”, etc.  It’s like saying “The Israel Olympic team’s gold medal in rhythmic gymnastics at Tokyo 2020 was won by Israeli Linoy Ashram.”  Hadn’t we already established that she was Israeli earlier in the sentence?

A common observation is that these tribal names (haHanokhi, haPallui) require two appended letters, yud and hey. These letters represent Yah, a name of God.  Why has God chosen to wrap God’s name around these communities?

Rashi explains:

Essentially, Rashi argues that the heathen nations disparaged Israel’s tribal integrity by suggesting that the Egyptians, even as they exerted control over the bodies of Israelite men, surely shaltu, ‘overmastered’, the Israeli women. “Wow!” I thought as I first encountered this text.  The tradition is acknowledging the use of rape as a tool of subjugation and war, a condition common to enslaved peoples all around the world, in past oppressions and still now.

God’s response, though, is perhaps not so “woke”.  On the one hand, God is protecting these offspring by attesting to their fathers that the children are, in fact, legitimate tribal members.  The source Rashi cites, Shir Hashirim Rabbah 4:12, describes the lengths to which God goes to secure their standing:

 אָמַר רַבִּי פִּנְחָס בְּאוֹתָהּ שָׁעָה קָרָא הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא לַמַּלְאָךְ הַמְּמֻנֶּה עַל הַהֵרָיוֹן וְאָמַר צֵא וְצוּר אוֹתָן בְּכָל קִטּוֹרִים שֶׁל אֲבוֹתָן, עִקַּר אֲבוֹתֵיהֶן לְמִי הָיוּ דוֹמִין לִגְדוֹלֵי הַמִּשְׁפָּחוֹת, הֲדָא הוּא דִכְתִיב לִרְאוּבֵן (במדבר כו, ז): מִשְׁפְּחֹת הָראוּבֵנִי. אָמַר רַבִּי הוֹשַׁעְיָא רְאוּבֵן הָראוּבֵנִי, שִׁמְעוֹן הַשִּׁמְעוֹנִי. אָמַר רַבִּי מָרִינוֹס בְּרַבִּי הוֹשַׁעְיָא הָא כְּמָה דְתֵימַר בָּרוֹנִי סַבְרוֹנִי סִיבוֹיִי. רַבִּי הוּנָא בְּשֵׁם רַבִּי אִידֵי ה”א בְּרֹאשׁ הַתֵּבָה וְיו”ד בְּסוֹפָהּ, י”ה מֵעִיד עֲלֵיהֶם שֶׁהֵם הֵם בְּנֵי אֲבוֹתֵיהֶם.

Rabbi Pinḥas said: At that moment the Holy One blessed be He called the angel appointed over pregnancy and said: Go and shape [the children] with all the features of their fathers. Who did the fathers themselves resemble? The paterfamilias of the families. That is what is written regarding Reuben: “The families of the Reubenites [haReuveni]” (Numbers 26:7). Rabbi Hoshaya said: Reuben, Reubenite [haReuveni], Simeon, Simeonite [haShimoni]. Rabbi Marinos ben Rabbi Hoshaya said: Like you say: Baronite, Savronite, Sivoyite. Rabbi Huna in the name of Rabbi Idi: Heh at the beginning of the word and yod at the end; God [yod-heh] attests for them that they were indeed the sons of their fathers.

God indeed manipulates the fetuses’ bodily features and wraps two letters of the Divine Name around their houses to establish the parentage of Israelite men.  Rashi upholds this claim by citing Psalm 122:4, characterizing God’s actions as an eidut le’Yisrael, a testimony to Israel, to translate the words more plainly than the JPS below:

I am pleased with the Divine efforts, but perhaps less with the motivation.  Naturally, the fathers will feel more committed to children not conceived in rape, to whom they can pass on tribal privileges.  So far so good. But the hush-hush changes in-utero don’t address a more modern perspective: must sexual violence against women be cloaked in secrecy? 

Still, the Divine modification of fetal features addresses an important psychological and emotional challenge facing the mothers.  I recall, from years ago, a photo essay of Rwandan Tutsi rape victims who bore children of their Hutu rapists. The mothers invoked the difficulty of raising sons who, as they approached adolescence, bore facial similarities to their rapists and torturers.  The photographer likely was Jonathan Torgovnik, an Israeli-born son of Holocaust survivors.  I couldn’t locate the original article that I read long ago, but some related links are provided in notes at the end.

Returning now to our text from Numbers – while God’s solution does not address the women’s emotions, continuing health problems, and potential for ostracism, it does accord these raped Israelite mothers a layer of visual protection and community inclusion that the Rwandan mothers struggle with.

Finally, I had occasion recently to re-read Gimpel the Fool by Isaac Bashevis Singer (1953).  Saul Bellow’s translation may be read at this link.

In the story, Gimpel is a retiring, trusting, long suffering “anti-hero” character, propelled by his town to marry Elka, a woman of questionable integrity who bears children who are not Gimpel’s. Deep in his heart, Gimpel knows what is happening, but even with the townspeople of Frampol mocking him and his own apprentice cuckolding him, Gimpel tries to accept the children as his own. Here is an excerpt:

Gimpel finally leaves his family after Elka’s death, becoming an itinerant and reflecting that our world is profoundly one of deception.  In the final paragraph of the story, Gimpel muses:

In parashat Pinhas, perhaps God’s role in deceiving the Israelite tribal fathers is a bit of surrender akin to that experienced by Gimpel:  an effort to rectify — but still a resigned acceptance of — injustice in the world.

——————————————————————

Notes: the work of Jonathan Torgovnik in Rwanda can be surveyed here:

https://www.lensculture.com/articles/jonathan-torgovnik-intended-consequences-rwandan-children-born-of-rape

https://torgovnik.com/STORIES/Disclosure—IC—Rwanda-/thumbs

https://slate.com/culture/2009/06/jonathan-torgovnik-s-photographs-of-children-born-of-rape-during-the-rwandan-genocide.html

LeDorotam

Shelah Lekha 5783       

     (embroidery, Rachel Braun, 2000, photo Philip Brookman)                                                             

Here’s a very old embroidery that uses a verse from this week’s parasha, Shelah Lekha.  It reads “they shall make themselves tzitzit on the corners of their garments throughout their generations.” The piece is a representation of a tallit (16” x 6”), stitched in honor of the bar mitzvah of my younger son, Hannan. 

This week’s parasha ends with a familiar passage that includes this verse: the third paragraph of the Shema (Numbers 15:37-41):

Verses 39-40 share the motivation for wearing and gazing at the tzitzit: to remember and observe the commandments (mitzvot)and to subvert our inclination toward evil.  The physicality of tzitzit on a tallit also provides a prompt for kavannah (intentionality) while davening.  And so, decades ago, I decided to don a tallit while praying.

Next step: buying one.  I visited a local Jewish bookstore owned by an older Orthodox man.  There, I found a beautiful lace tallit, so lacy, in fact, that it was almost like macrame, with the threads creating large gaps in the fabric rather than a solid, smooth surface.

I asked the owner, “Is this a kosher tallit?  The fabric isn’t really a solid piece” and he raised his eyebrows in skepticism and replied in Yiddish-inflected English, “What difference does that make? It’s a WOMAN’S tallis!”

Now I have to laugh at this comment, brusque though it was.   In his view, the obligation of wearing tzitzit is imposed only on men, rendering my question moot. More than his identity as a shop owner, he was also an Orthodox Jew, and wouldn’t bother with my question even with a $150 sale at stake.

Obligation (hiyyuv) in Jewish law stems from the contract enacted between God and the Jewish people at Sinai.  It was a weird way to enter into a covenant, as God allegedly held Mount Sinai over our heads until we agreed to it. Perhaps recently enslaved folks were accustomed to force when offered a deal.

Beyond that, the concept of hiyyuv is problematic in a world where God’s towering presence in history can feel remote.  If even the newly freed Israelites, fresh from watching God split the Red Sea, needed the threat of a mountain over their heads to accept God’s partnership, we moderns might be forgiven for wondering about hiyyuv. 

So, I might reframe hiyyuv.  (Gosh, that sounds bold; maybe I’ll “expand” hiyyuv.)  Looking back at the embroidery, you’ll see two elements that draw our attention to the legacy of our forebears.  In the center is the elaborately stitched word leDorotam (“throughout their generations”), embellished with gold floss.  And most meaningfully, the corners of the tiny “tallit” hold antique, lace patches taken from a medallion doily stitched by Hannan’s great-grandmother, Hannah Braunstein z”l.  Incorporating Helen Braunstein’s needlework into my celebration of her namesake, Hannan, brought the verse alive for me, as if I was enacting Torah with my own hands. 

Perhaps our obligation now is to those who came before us. The embroidery reflects our family’s obligations to the great grandmother who did not know her great-grandson, but whose handiwork and Jewish legacy lives on through us.

Torah service warning: subversion ahead!

Beha’alotekha 5783                                                                        Rachel Braun

This week’s parasha, Beha’alotekha, includes these two remarkable pesukim (verses):

Numbers 10:35-36  (JPS)

They are notable not only for their place in the Torah service liturgy (the former at the beginning, the latter in the closing paragraph), but also for their unusual configuration in the scroll, set apart as their own paragraph and surrounded by inverted letter nuns.

We’ll focus on the first of the two verses, Numbers 10:35, that begins vayehi binso’a ha’aron.  With its inclusion in the liturgy, we are exposed to a remarkable experience of rabbinic subversion. First, let’s consider the implication of having inverted nuns, and then, the verse’s placement in the Torah service.

The rabbis and commentators have long mused about the meaning of the two inverted nuns.  Do the two verses constitute their own book of the Bible, breaking Numbers into three distinct sections?  That would lead us to count not five, but SEVEN Books of Moses. Rabbi Yehuda haNasi, in the Babylonian Talmud Shabbat 116a:1, suggests just that.  Proverbs 9:1 provides a prooftext supporting this explanation: “Wisdom has built her house; she has hewn out her seven pillars.” 

Rabbis Shmuel bar Nahman and Yonatan advance this view in Shabbat 116b.

Or — were they set apart with the inverted nuns because they have been edited out of their original placement in the Torah narrative?  That analysis is provided in Shabbat 115b. The Talmudic text argues that the two verses were uprooted from their proper spot in order to break up stories of continued grumbling among the Israelites, each resulting in punishment.  At some future moment, explains Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel, the verses will be restored to their rightful location.  Rav Ashi identifies this spot as Numbers Chapter 1, a section describing the marching of the Israelites by their flags, where a verse about the marching of the Ark of the Covenant would be more fitting (Shabbat 116a:3).

How remarkable, then, that this verse falls into our liturgy!  “Vayehi binso’a ha’aron” (verse 10:35) is sung just as the Ark is opened, early in  the Torah service.  And later, we literally point to the Torah and proclaim

Beyad Moshe! In Moses’ hand! Yet the rabbinic backstory in Talmud tractate Shabbat plays around with this orthodoxy.  We may call out pages of the Humash (literally, five) as the Torah reading begins, but Shabbat entertains the possibility of there being seven books. We may sing a statement that Adonai placed this scroll directly into Moses’ hands, but the rabbis contemplated edits and future un-edits.  We may be nodding to God, but we’re winking at one another.

A second moment of subversion follows our singing of “vayehi binso’a ha’aron”, wherein we ask God to scatter our enemies as the Ark leads the Israelite march.  The liturgy adds a verse, ki mitzion teitzei Torah…, from Isaiah 2:3: “For out of Zion comes forth the Torah, and the word of Adonai from Jerusalem.”  This verse immediately re-centers the experience of Torah, from the wilderness march of Numbers 10:35, to Zion and Jerusalem, words and locations from the prophetic period. Moreover, it begins by imagining all nations pursuing God’s wisdom, in contrast to the verse from Numbers that focuses on the Israelites needing the Ark’s protection to negotiate their way around hostile desert nations. From Isaiah (JPS Gender-Sensitive translation):

To boot, in contrast to the militaristic verse from Numbers that invokes the power of God to scatter our enemies, the prophet Isaiah continues with what is perhaps the Hebrew Bible’s most well-known call for peace (2:4):

And might a selection from the prophets, even as the Ark is opened, temper the military motif of vayehi binso’a ha’aron, anticipate the haftarah, and suggest that revelation continues well past Sinai?  

So.  The Torah is the word of God handed directly to Moses … but maybe it got edited just a bit.  And the holy Ark will lead us on our marches through hostile territories and peoples … but ultimately military hardware will be repurposed for agricultural use.  The well-versed reader cannot help but smile a bit conspiratorially at these moments of subversion.