Post by Rabbi Neil on Mar 2, 2018 21:26:12 GMT
How is it that in the Purim narrative which we read on Wednesday evening that Vashti speaks out immediately but that Esther does not? Or to ask the question another way, why is the Jew so hesitant to speak out? When we compare the two women, their responses are surprisingly different. Vashti is about to be embarrassed and she immediately resists. Esther, on the other hand, is about to be killed, along with every member of her family, and yet she hesitates. Why is the Jew in the story so hesitant to speak up?
As we saw in the spiel on Wednesday, Esther isn’t exactly empowered to speak out on anything. That’s clearly deliberate – the name Esther comes from the Hebrew meaning to be hidden, so it makes sense that she’s not front and centre for most of the narrative, even if, strangely, it is named after her (although that may be more due to the hiddenness of God in the narrative).
In fact, the Jewish community for many centuries has really been afraid to speak out. Reform Judaism loves to quote the prophets – and rightly so – for their vocal pronouncements of the disgust at the status quo. So, what happened? How did Judaism lose its prophetic voice? Why are we so often like Esther, silent and, therefore, complicit?
Rabbi Dov Marmur suggests a number of reasons in his classic book Beyond Survival, and I would like to refer to them and add some others as well. The first reason is because we became afraid to do so. At first, this was due to the social realities of the time – for many centuries the Jewish people have been marginalized and have just tried to survive without sticking their heads above the parapet. We learned to be quiet because that tended to keep us safer.
In the modern age, though, we learned to be quiet because we didn’t want to upset our members. Synagogues tended not to take stands on social issues because they accepted that their members had a plurality of opinions on differing social matters and they didn’t want to upset members, and cause them to leave. It was seen as better to have people in the community and content, for obvious reason.
Another reason we tend not to speak up is because of how removed we are from certain issues. Take the recent renewed calls to end gun violence. These calls have been prominent in the African American community for years, and not due to school massacres. However, once one particular group of white survivors of a massacre speak up, they are given enormous press coverage and we all join in. We were so removed from the pain of the African-American community, though, that we didn’t speak out when they did, mainly because we didn’t even hear them speaking out. And that’s a community in this country. Think about all the people around the world whom we know about but about whom we do very little. Part of that is surely due to what is known as compassion fatigue – that knowing about a globalized society means being aware of globalized problems which in turn means either taking on all the problems and becoming exhausted, or having to be selective. So, we pick and choose when to speak up in order to protect ourselves. But once we choose not to speak out against an injustice we know about, it becomes much easier to not speak out against the next one, and the next. Distance from the issue, then – both physical and emotional – has become another important factor in us not speaking out about things that concern us.
Another reason is the feeling of disempowerment that we so often feel. In an age of hashtag clicktivism, sometimes all we feel we can do is post our disapproval on social media and hope that those with the power to actually make change hear our desire for change. In some sense, that is what Esther does, after all. She doesn’t just run around voicing her opinion, she bides her time and waits to speak to the one person who can affect change at a time when they would be receptive. And while that’s true, I think there’s a problem with how this has often been taken because Esther is only talking about saving herself and those like her, not other people. Had it not been Esther who was threatened, but another people, would she have spoken up? I can’t help but think that the answer to that question is no. Esther therefore inadvertently teaches how to express self-concern but not necessarily concern for other people. And we all know that the Jewish community has been extremely good at calling out those who threaten it, but has not always been so good at calling out those who threaten others.
That’s actually one of the reasons I came to this Temple, and one of the reasons I’m certain that membership increased this year at TBS for the first time in years – specifically because we’re not afraid to speak out here at TBS, because we try to reclaim the prophetic voice. That’s why we organized the Rally Against Racism last year, attended by one and a half thousand people. That’s why we’re organizing the Green Fusion initiative that brings together environmental and interfaith leaders. That’s why this community created the Interfaith Shelter to house homeless people. That’s why I spoke out against the shocking academic standards proposed by the PED last year.
But there is much more to do. I do believe that a Temple can take a stand on social issues, and that its members understand that they might not always agree with it. Better, at least, to take a stand. And the best way to minimize the disagreement is with community consultation, like the Kulanu program which last year looked at Social Justice and asked members what they wanted to see. Of course, issues change, some come to prominence that hadn’t before. Gun control is something that wasn’t at the forefront of the minds of most of our members last year but which has gained in importance recently. As a community, we haven’t yet taken a stand on this, but we might.
The point is that we need to continue to be relevant in this world. Religion, Judaism in particular, is not about the world to come, it’s about living in this world, making God real in this world, or living with God in this world. I believe our community tries to do this, and will do it more in the years to come. I believe this is what makes Judaism thrive – by giving it a voice not necessarily like Esther’s, but like Vashti’s. A voice that immediately speaks out against injustice, a voice that is filled with compassion for the sanctity of human life and freedom. May we all find that voice, speak louder in that voice, and help use that voice for the continual improvement of the world. May such be God’s will, and let us say, Amen.
As we saw in the spiel on Wednesday, Esther isn’t exactly empowered to speak out on anything. That’s clearly deliberate – the name Esther comes from the Hebrew meaning to be hidden, so it makes sense that she’s not front and centre for most of the narrative, even if, strangely, it is named after her (although that may be more due to the hiddenness of God in the narrative).
In fact, the Jewish community for many centuries has really been afraid to speak out. Reform Judaism loves to quote the prophets – and rightly so – for their vocal pronouncements of the disgust at the status quo. So, what happened? How did Judaism lose its prophetic voice? Why are we so often like Esther, silent and, therefore, complicit?
Rabbi Dov Marmur suggests a number of reasons in his classic book Beyond Survival, and I would like to refer to them and add some others as well. The first reason is because we became afraid to do so. At first, this was due to the social realities of the time – for many centuries the Jewish people have been marginalized and have just tried to survive without sticking their heads above the parapet. We learned to be quiet because that tended to keep us safer.
In the modern age, though, we learned to be quiet because we didn’t want to upset our members. Synagogues tended not to take stands on social issues because they accepted that their members had a plurality of opinions on differing social matters and they didn’t want to upset members, and cause them to leave. It was seen as better to have people in the community and content, for obvious reason.
Another reason we tend not to speak up is because of how removed we are from certain issues. Take the recent renewed calls to end gun violence. These calls have been prominent in the African American community for years, and not due to school massacres. However, once one particular group of white survivors of a massacre speak up, they are given enormous press coverage and we all join in. We were so removed from the pain of the African-American community, though, that we didn’t speak out when they did, mainly because we didn’t even hear them speaking out. And that’s a community in this country. Think about all the people around the world whom we know about but about whom we do very little. Part of that is surely due to what is known as compassion fatigue – that knowing about a globalized society means being aware of globalized problems which in turn means either taking on all the problems and becoming exhausted, or having to be selective. So, we pick and choose when to speak up in order to protect ourselves. But once we choose not to speak out against an injustice we know about, it becomes much easier to not speak out against the next one, and the next. Distance from the issue, then – both physical and emotional – has become another important factor in us not speaking out about things that concern us.
Another reason is the feeling of disempowerment that we so often feel. In an age of hashtag clicktivism, sometimes all we feel we can do is post our disapproval on social media and hope that those with the power to actually make change hear our desire for change. In some sense, that is what Esther does, after all. She doesn’t just run around voicing her opinion, she bides her time and waits to speak to the one person who can affect change at a time when they would be receptive. And while that’s true, I think there’s a problem with how this has often been taken because Esther is only talking about saving herself and those like her, not other people. Had it not been Esther who was threatened, but another people, would she have spoken up? I can’t help but think that the answer to that question is no. Esther therefore inadvertently teaches how to express self-concern but not necessarily concern for other people. And we all know that the Jewish community has been extremely good at calling out those who threaten it, but has not always been so good at calling out those who threaten others.
That’s actually one of the reasons I came to this Temple, and one of the reasons I’m certain that membership increased this year at TBS for the first time in years – specifically because we’re not afraid to speak out here at TBS, because we try to reclaim the prophetic voice. That’s why we organized the Rally Against Racism last year, attended by one and a half thousand people. That’s why we’re organizing the Green Fusion initiative that brings together environmental and interfaith leaders. That’s why this community created the Interfaith Shelter to house homeless people. That’s why I spoke out against the shocking academic standards proposed by the PED last year.
But there is much more to do. I do believe that a Temple can take a stand on social issues, and that its members understand that they might not always agree with it. Better, at least, to take a stand. And the best way to minimize the disagreement is with community consultation, like the Kulanu program which last year looked at Social Justice and asked members what they wanted to see. Of course, issues change, some come to prominence that hadn’t before. Gun control is something that wasn’t at the forefront of the minds of most of our members last year but which has gained in importance recently. As a community, we haven’t yet taken a stand on this, but we might.
The point is that we need to continue to be relevant in this world. Religion, Judaism in particular, is not about the world to come, it’s about living in this world, making God real in this world, or living with God in this world. I believe our community tries to do this, and will do it more in the years to come. I believe this is what makes Judaism thrive – by giving it a voice not necessarily like Esther’s, but like Vashti’s. A voice that immediately speaks out against injustice, a voice that is filled with compassion for the sanctity of human life and freedom. May we all find that voice, speak louder in that voice, and help use that voice for the continual improvement of the world. May such be God’s will, and let us say, Amen.
