Yom Kippur Refelction 2011

By Rabbi David Rose, JCADA Advisory Board Member

The most well known piyyut (medieval liturgical poem) of the High Holy Day liturgy is the U-netaneh Tokef. In this moving meditation we read; “Even the angels are dismayed, seized with fear and trembling they cry out: ‘The Day of Judgment has arrived!’” 

Our tradition sees the Day of Judgment as a wonderful gift from God. Judgment seems like an awful, terrible thing, and yet our tradition sees these Days of Judgment as a beautiful blessing. We call these days ‘Yom Tov,’ literally ‘good or festive days’; for they are an opportunity for self-awareness and improvement. We come to the Heavenly Court, so-to-speak, contrite for our failings and proud of our accomplishments. Reviewing our successes and our failures of the past year, we individually take responsibility for our own lives and chart a path for blessings in the coming year.

But what if every day was Yom HaDin, The Day of Judgment? What if every single day brought fear and trembling? What if this constant judgment was never just? What if the judgment was not through self-awareness before the Heavenly Judge but was daily before an earthly, capricious, abusive individual who had set themselves up as your judge, jury and prosecutor? What if the sentences of this malicious judge were a way of exercising control and power over your life and choices?

So it is for millions in our midst who suffer in abusive relationships. Abuse, a pattern of coercive behaviors used to establish power and control over an intimate partner, leaves those victimized by these behaviors in constant fear and trembling. “I constantly felt like I was being judged,” a woman who had left an abusive relationship told me. “What made it so frightening was that the rules by which I was being judged constantly changed. I never knew what would set him off. I walked around on eggshells, paralyzed, in never ending fear, just waiting for the next explosion.”  For many who suffer in abusive relationships there are periods of calm and tenderness but those spells never seem to last. “When after days or even weeks of his behaving like an angel he would again belittle me, make fun of me, embarrass me in front of our children and friends, criticize me for things that he complimented me for just days earlier, there was a strange kind of relief that things were back to ‘normal.’”

“Normal” for too many, mostly women, sitting in our midst in synagogues and temples this Yom Kippur is living with constant fear and trembling. Unfortunately, for these individuals the themes and liturgy of the holy day can add to their suffering and pain. Those who are abusive regularly ask those they have harmed for forgiveness; they vow to change, to make teshuvah (repentance or change). The liturgy encourages us to be forgiving; as God is forgiving and compassionate. The rabbi may ask us during services to turn to our partners and ask for pardon. But what if there is no teshuvah, no real change?

 At Yizkor (Memorial Service) we are called to remember the righteous and good deeds of our departed family members. What if the father we are remembering was abusive of our mother? What if we were relieved to be finally free when our husband who abused us for years died? How are we to recite Yizkor prayers for such individuals?

We must remember that teshuvah is never automatic. Saying you are “sorry” is not the same as being sorry and changing. Yom Kippur does not ask us to just go through the motions, to just mumble the right words; Yom Kippur calls on us to do the hard work of teshuvah.  It is so very important that we recognize that teshuvah is a process that involves multiple steps. In her book, I Thought We’d Never Speak Again: The Road From Estrangement to Reconciliation, Laura Davis makes reference to the five R’s of teshuvah: recognition, remorse, repentance, restitution and reform. On Yom Kippur we make a safe place in our midst for those who have been abused by unequivocally declaring that our tradition never tolerates controlling our intimate partners and that we need not forgive another who has not made real teshuvah. And, we must be clear to those who perpetrate family violence that the Holy One of Blessing calls upon them to acknowledge responsibility, to demonstrate remorse by truly changing behavior and to make restitution for damages caused. For more on teshuvah and domestic violence see Gus Kaufman’s outstanding article, Renewal and Reconciliation after Family Violence, found on the FaithTrust website.

We can also demonstrate our commitment to safety and justice in our communities at the Yizkor service by acknowledging that because of abusive behavior it is not always possible to remember righteous deeds of parents and intimate partners who have passed on. Such an acknowledgment creates greater awareness of the prevalence of family violence in our midst and gives permission to those who have suffered from such violence to express their grief for what could have been and should have been.

This Yom Kippur as we stand before God in judgment, grateful for the gift of life and for the sacred opportunity to improve our lives, let us make a place of safety and peace for those who are painfully and unfairly judged day after day. Let us work together to combat the egregious sin of domestic abuse in our communities and homes by shining light on the problem. And, let us build communities that nourish and support healthy and sacred relationship. Then when the Days of Judgment arrive we will all find favor before God and all humanity.

With blessings for an easy fast, a deeply meaningful Day of Atonement and a joyous 5772!

Rabbi David Rose 

Ordained at The Jewish Theological Seminary, Rabbi Rose is the Founder and Director of JDiscover. In 2009, he was designated 'Clergy Person of the Year' by the Interfaith Community Against Domestic Violence, Maryland.  Rabbi Rose served as Chairman of Jewish Women International Clergy Taskforce on Domestic Abuse from 2007 through 2011.

Since 1993, Rabbi Rose has trained more than 250 members of clergy, of all faiths, in recognizing and responding to the challenge of Domestic Abuse. He has counseled hundreds of women from around the country helping them toward safety and new lives.  His perspectives on this subject are featured in the documentary film "When the Vow Breaks." In 2004, he was awarded a "Certificate of Special Congressional Recognition" and the Jewish Coalition Against Domestic Abuse's "Community Service Award" for these efforts.

*Taken from the Faith Trust Institute

At This Year's Passover Sedar

This spring we have an article by JCADA board member Rabbi Michael J. Safra, Rabbi of B’nai Israel Congregation, Rockville, MD. The article highlights the parallels between Passover’s theme of freedom and JCADA’s mission to feel free, especially in our own homes.  Please consider including Rabbi’s Safra’s words in your sedar.  We wish you all a happy, healthy, and safe Passover. 

From the Haggadah:

וַנִּצְעַק אֶל ה' אֳלֹהֵי אֲבֹתֵינוּ, וַיִּשְׁמַע ה' אֶת קֹלֵנוּ, וַיָרְא אֶת עָנְיֵנוּ וְאֶת עֲמָלֵנוּ וְאֶת לַחֲצֵנוּ. 
We cried out to Adonai, the Lord of our fathers, and Adonai heard our plea and saw our plight, our misery, and our oppression (Deuteronomy 26:7).

Commentary from the Haggadah:

וַיַּרְא אֶת עָנְיֵנוּ - זוֹ פְּרִישׁוּת דֶּרֶךְ אֶרֶץ, כְּמָה שֶׁנאמר: וַיַרְא אֱלֹהִים אֶת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וַיֵדָע אֱלֹהִים.

And saw our plight, This is the cessation of family life, as it is said: “the Lord looked upon the Israelites, and the Lord took notice of (lit. knew) them” (Exodus 2:24).

According to Rabbinic Midrash, the Egyptians attempted to demoralize the Israelites by disrupting family life. One legend posits that Amram, Moses’s father, became so overburdened by the work as a slave and the decrees of the Egyptian Pharaoh that he divorced his wife, Yocheved. Miriam ultimately convinced her father to reconcile with Yocheved. Their renewed relationship brought about the birth of Moses and ultimately saved the Jewish people (Talmud Sotah 12a). Another legend suggests that the Israelite women helped to overcome Pharaoh’s evil decree by finding their husbands at the end of each long day of work, preparing romantic meals, and creating an intimate environment (Talmud Sotah 11a).

These legends are the product of a different era, incorporating gender norms far different from our own. But they speak to the power of shalom bayit, peace in the home. The disruption of family life by the Egyptians threatened to destroy our people. The determination to build peaceful homes and to nurture the family “against all odds” ultimately enabled this small band of slaves to topple the brutal, powerful Egyptian regime.

Tragically, today there are families for whom the idea of shalom bayit has been compromised by domestic abuse. Domestic abuse is a pattern of physically, sexually, verbally, financially and/or emotionally abusive or controlling behavior in a relationship. Abusers threaten their victims and disrupt the tranquility, predictability, and safety that are supposed to be the hallmark of family life.

Passover is an opportunity to renew our commitment to help individuals who are enslaved by the horrors of abuse. We, as a Jewish community, have a responsibility to show victims that they are not alone. JCADA provides counseling and resources to empower victims of abuse, to help them respond to their situations, and most importantly, help ensure their safety. We have an added obligation to educate our children and community about the characteristics of healthy relationships. We cannot ignore the reality of this enslavement; there are things we can do and must do, for the survival of the physical and spiritual well-being of the victims in our community.

May the haggadah’s words of hope be heard by all victims of abuse:

הָשַׁתָּא עַבְדֵי, לְשָׁנָה הַבָּאָה בְּנֵי חוֹרִין

This year you are slaves; next year may you be free.”

Purim –A Social Justice Perspective

Purim –A Social Justice Perspective
by Deborah Swerdlow

As a little girl, I always wanted to dress up as Queen Esther for Purim. She seemed so glamorous, the heroine of the story—and playing Esther meant I got to wear a pretty dress and a crown. I don’t recall wanting to dress up as Queen Vashti, who seemed the minor character with a few lines at the beginning and a sudden disappearance.

Queen Esther risked her life to beg King Ahasuerus to stop Haman’s plan to kill the Persian Jews. But the fact is that Esther needed some encouragement from her uncle Mordechai to stand up for herself and her people.  She hemmed and hawed, worried that she was risking her life by approaching the king without an invitation. It is only after Mordechai tells her to consider the needs of her community that she does what is right.

The wonderful thing about the Jewish calendar is that each year, we have another chance to read the same text and find new meaning in it. Through the lens of my position as the RAC’s Eisendrath Legislative Assistant for women’s issues, Vashti now looks like the more admirable female in the Purim story – and her quick disappearance disturbs me.

King Ahasuerus ordered Vashti to appear before his drunken princes and leaders in her royal crown so that she may show off her beauty.  Why is this remarkable?  Isn’t it likely that the King would summon the Queen to appear on a moment’s notice?  But the rabbis add that in this case, she was summoned to appear wearing only her crown – and so Vashti flatly refused. She would not allow herself to be debased or used for the sake of another man’s entertainment. She asserted herself.  Isn’t Vashti someone we should want our children to emulate and imitate?

But what became of Vashti after her moment of valor?

The text says the princes from Persia and Media suggested that King Ahasuerus banish her so that she “may never again appear before [the] King” and start looking for her replacement—the point, they said, was to make an example out of her, lest all the women in the country and princesses in these two provinces think it is acceptable to disobey their husbands. This suggested punishment implies that whatever befell Vashti after she left the castle was…not good.

We can assume that Vashti, now homeless, had no assets, no employable skills, and few, if any, people to turn to for help (after all, the “common folk” were not known to be accepting of banished queens). And that’s assuming she wasn’t immediately put to death in order to guarantee that she never come before the King again.

Unfortunately, we know what life can be like for the thousands of victims of domestic violence who stand up for themselves and walk away from their abusers, only to find that they have few resources and barely any safety net.

About one in four women will experience domestic violence at some point in her life, but not all of them find the strength and the resources to leave their abusers. Those who do may find themselves with no place to call home—the mere 2,000 emergency shelters in the United States are drastically fewer than what is required to meet the need.

Even if a woman is able to find a place to live after leaving an abusive home, she is at a greater risk for depression at a time when our mental health care system often fails to adequately address people’s needs. She may also have lingering physical injuries that impair her ability to work. A 2003 study by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention found that victims of domestic violence lost almost 8 million days of paid work because of the violence perpetrated against them.

And then there’s the social stigma associated with domestic violence: the erroneous assumption that victims are weak and helpless, that somehow they asked for this horrible treatment, that somehow they’re toxic to everyone else.

We may not definitively know what happened to Queen Vashti, but we do know what it is like for victims of domestic violence today—and what we can do to help. (please see  box below for some suggestions.)

I probably won’t dress up as Queen Esther, or Queen Vashti, for Purim this year, but I will see the story of these two women through a different lens.

Kein Ye-hi Ratzon. May it be God’s will.

Deborah Swerdlow is an Eisendrath Legislative Assistant at the Religious Action Center in Washington, D.C.

You can donate gift certificates to food stores, gas stations, and drugstores so victims can support themselves. You can donate your old cell phones to JCADA, so they can be recycled and the proceeds used to fund client services. You can also host a workshop about domestic violence at your synagogue or bring our prevention initiative AWARE’s teen program, ‘It’s Not Love,’ to a youth group or religious school in your community.

*Edited for size and to include local resources