Orange on the Seder Plate?

On one hand the placing of the orange on the Seder Plate arose as a way of making an important statement, “all Jews have a place at the table.” Miriam’s Cup filled with water tells the story of her song, her well and her role in the Exodus. Both of these are important nuances and messages for Seder night. However, on the other hand my first reaction is to recoil at a practice that changes the essential “look” of the traditional Seder Plate or Seder table. I guess this is an instance where my feminism collides with my deep sense of tradition. At Pesach time I am very attached to the notion that the table and the traditions continue to look the same. But then again I may be the wrong person to ask; I still use my grandmother’s pots, my Mother’s dishes, and make gefilte fish from scratch.

But saying this, I need to emphasize that I am very much in favor of the idea that the telling of the story of the Exodus must include the telling of the story of the women of the Exodus. The question is, how do we accomplish this in the most effective yet seamless way? I think the first step may be to notice what is on the Seder table and appreciate its connection to the female role in the Exodus. You will be surprised when you realize that the critical elements are already on the table. The question is, do we know what they are and do we know the narrative that goes with them? Our first step is to catch up on the very considerable role that women played in the Exodus and to learn how to blend it in to our reading of the Haggadah.

On Seder night our story is told using a text together with symbolic foods. The text, though lots of folks out there think it is a long drawn out endless series of non-connected paragraphs, is really a very well constructed ordered terse short story that is infinitely elastic. It is our job to enhance the brief paragraphs with additional commentary and broaden it with probing questions and answers. It is our role as we partake in the traditional foods to offer the rationales for the foods and to tease out all of the subtleties embedded in them. Here are some suggestions for blending the woman‘s story into your Seder.

First take out a Haggadah. Right after the Four Questions are asked, an answer is offered. The children have asked essentially one question, Why is this night different from all other nights. They then provide four examples for their question. The question reflects the children’s wonderment about the nature of Seder night. Are we happy tonight or sad? We are eating matzo and bitter herbs, that feel sad. But we are leaning and dipping that feels happy and celebratory. The question is why this night is different from other holidays where the mood is clear; sometimes happy, sometimes sad, sometimes serious. Tonight we seem to be getting mixed messages, happy and sad. The answer is we were slaves in Egypt but God redeemed us. It is a bittersweet mood we are in; we remember the slavery with sadness but we are joyously grateful for our freedom.

As this paragraph is read take the opportunity to ask the question; how did the slavery come about? Prepare the answer by studying the first chapter of Exodus. Notice the three stages that unfolded during Pharaoh’s final solution.

Step one was the hard labor of slavery, step two was the attempt to have the midwives murder the baby boys and the final step was the outright enlisting of all Egyptians in the elimination of the male babies. Each of these steps involves a deeply significant role of women. Now is the time to tell these stories.

As the Israelites were enslaved in step one of the process, the Midrash tell us that the men were separated from the women, hence Pharaoh’s hope that the hard labor would lead to a decrease in the population. The women took matters into their own hands. They went out to their men, out to fields under the fruit trees. There they conceived and there they birthed their babies. Point to the charoseth, the fruit in that delicious dish reminds us of those very fruit trees beneath which the children of Israel grew to be a mighty people.

In the second step of Pharaoh’s plan the midwives, identified in the Midrash as Miriam and her mother, take a dramatic step in the history of our people. They stand up to Pharaoh; their fear of God prevents them from following orders. Remind those around the table that according to the Rabbi Judah Leove, the Maharal, the four cups of wine remind us of the four matriarchs. Talk about the strength and the unique courage displayed by women as you drink the four cups.

Finally, the last step in the plan leads to the hiding of Moses by his mother, the vigilant watching of Miriam by the water and the courageous act of salvation by the righteous gentile, Pharaoh’s daughter. It is through women that Moses is saved and through women that the redemption is ultimately realized.

Ironically, Moses’ name does not appear in the Haggadah; Moses who challenges Pharaoh, who brings about the ten plagues, who leads the people across the sea. There is no mention of Moses in the Haggadah. This radical absence is to ensure that our people do not deify a human being. The role of Moses is downplayed. No human is remembered as the rescuer.

There may be a very powerful lesson here. Seder night is not about a competition between men or women. It is not about who has the power. The Seder is about our people’s unique relationship with God Almighty; God who interrupted history to take an embittered people out of slavery. Though we tell the story of women and of men, let us remember that the real story is about the Divine and our gratitude for being redeemed.

Charoset: Fruit of Desire

Here’s a neat segue from Purim to Pesach from Esther to Miriam involving the allure of women, beautiful and enticing women, righteous and holy women. A woman of valor in Jewish parlance is an elegant blend of both. Tradition never conceals the strength of an attractive woman. It is the seductive nature of Esther’s beauty and personality which saves her people. She faithfully follows in the path paved gently by the noble take-control footsteps of Tamar, of Ruth and of a whole generation of women enslaved in Egypt. It is a path of righteousness and realism. It is a path of feminism and femininity. It is our path.
The question is, does this path lead to the Seder table? This mysterious allure may seem distant, elusive and to not quite fit as we gather around the Seder table. We mothers, wives, sisters and daughters still reeling from exhaustive Pre-Pesach preparations are not necessarily thinking passion. But yet, that is an undercurrent theme present even at the Pesach table. You may have blinked at Sunday School and missed it. But I assure it is there. Take a look at the Seder Plate. It stares right up at us. Not the horseradish or the shank bone - but the sweet charoset; the single item on the plate to which women over the centuries have leant their sensual talents to creating and producing. And for good reason, that charoset is no simple mortar wannabe. There is far more than the obvious here.
For me one of the delights of the Seder phenomenon is the yin yangness of so much of the symbols. The motif of the night is very much the blending of opposites. We remember slavery and redemption. We try to recreate the bitterness of bondage along with the recollection of the sweetness of freedom. The matsah is the paradox representing both. This is the bread of our affliction, we chant. Later we declare, this matsah which we eat is to recall the quick departure from Egypt. Slavery and redemption with sentiments of both despair and exhilaration in one mouthful. That is the beauty of matsah, the beauty of Pesach and the beauty of life. Nothing is simple and the layering of our sometimes incongruous emotions woven together is what makes us human.
The Israelites in forced labor are compelled to manufacture the bricks with which they are then forced to build. Is it not odd that the substance representing these bricks of persecution and mortar of torture is deliciously sweet? That it, more than an other item on the Seder plate is object of the creativity and imagination of the Jewish woman from Morocco to Tunisia? This very redolent ingredient of the Seder Plate tells a particularly bittersweet tale; a story of mirrors, desire, and fruit trees. It is a legend that reflects the enigmatic riddle of impulses, instincts and survival.
Pharoh’s final solution separated men from women. The motive was to limit the procreation of the Israelites. Exhaustive labor in the fields effectively squelched the desire of the male slaves. What did the daughters of Israel do? The Midrash tells us that they prepared food and wine for their husbands, made themselves beautiful and went out into the fields. There they took out mirrors, teased their husbands and aroused their desire. They awakened the ardor of their beleaguered men, were fruitful and multiplied and produced a generation that became exceedingly mighty. From the bitter comes the sweet. The slavery was bitter. The holy beautiful daughters of Israel are sweet. And the children that became the hosts of Israelites are most assuredly sweet.
How is this remembered at the seder table? Rabbi Samuel the son of Meir in his commentary on the Talmud in Tracate Pesachim 115b writes that charoseth is made from fruit in order to recall the apple. That apple would be the fruit later referred to in the Song of Songs 8:5 “I roused thee under the apple tree: there thy mother was in travail with thee: there she who bore thee was in travail.” Yes, the charoseth represents the hardship of labor but can’t help but also recall the transcendent fashion with which Jewish women rose above their dejected circumstances. They recognized that their allure could arouse their mates and in turn guarantee a Jewish future. Not unlike Tamar, Ruth and Esther.
No prop on the Jewish stage goes forgotten. And therefore we must ask, what about the mirrors? Were they never to be heard from? Objects with such innocent charm cannot simply evaporate. They need to take their rightful place among the souvenirs of our people. And so they do. Contributions for the building of the Mishkan, Holy Tabernacle are requested. The Israelite women come forward with their offerings. Mirrors. Moshe considers the mirrors and responds not unexpectedly. There is no place for a mundane symbol of vanity in the Mishkan. The Holy One Blessed Be He steps in, “Accept their offering, for these are dearer to me than everything else because through them the women raised up countless hosts in Egypt.” The mirrors were used in the holy Mishkan for the wash basin, to make pure the hands of the priests before their service of God.
Our tradition teaches us that our forefathers and mothers were redeemed from the Egyptian bondage on account of the righteous women of the generation. Righteousness takes many forms. The standard set by our matriarchs is sublime. It is borne of sacrifice, love and courage. The allure of the Jewish woman is legendary. Exhausted though we may be by Seder night let us not shy away from its presence nor desist from recalling it. The charoseth is a powerful symbol of life and womaness right there on the seder plate for all to be hold. Tell the tale and proudly say, This we eat “Zecher LaTapuach, in remembrance of the apple.”

Judith the Obscure

Sadly, the female experience has become invisible through the ages sometimes even when their role is remarkably critical. To see a significant and meaningful place for women in the Chanukah celebration, one needs to do a little digging -- but not too much. Let's look at the vast body of rich Jewish legal literature, sometimes it may reveal that which you least expect.
Let us begin by opening the Shulchan Aruch, Code of Jewish Law, authored by Rabbi Yosef Karo in the sixteenth century. In section 970 we find the first law concerning Chanukah. He starts with the simple; Chanukah is for eight days beginning on the 25th of Kislev. These are days when eulogies and fasting are prohibited, but work is permitted - except for women who have the custom to abstain from doing any form of labor while the candles are burning. Further on, he writes that women are obligated in lighting Chanukah candles and may light on behalf of the entire household.
Two interesting points jump out. First, though the laws of Chanukah go on for pages, it is women's custom that immediately takes center stage. The only labor prohibited on the festival is by women - during the burning of the Chanukah candles. The second significant halachic twist is that in spite of the principal that women are exempt from positive time bound commandments - when it comes to the lighting of the Chanukah candles their obligation is equal to that of men.
Questions; why do women have the custom to refrain from work while the Chanukah candles burn? Why do they seem to have a higher level of commitment or perhaps reverence for the Chanukah lights? And finally, why are they obligated in lighting Chanukah candles?
Now we will zoom back in time to search the pages of the Talmud for Rabbi Karo’s source. Opening to page 23a of Tractate Shabbat we find that “Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi says that women are obligated in the mitzvah of Chanukah lights, for they too were involved in the miracle." They too were involved in the miracle? Rabbi Shlomo Yischaki, Rashi, tenth century scholar, suggests two possible interpretations to the puzzling phrase. First, they too were involved in the miracle - they too were subjugated to the Greeks, but in a terribly tragic way particular to women only. Each Jewish virgin was forced to be with a Greek officer before marrying. Second possibility; it was through a woman that the miracle occurred. This provocative comment is echoed and enlarged upon by Rashi’s grandson Rabbi Shmuel ben Meir, Rashbam, he adds, that the Chanukah miracle was done through the hands of Yehudit, Judith.

Ah, Judith the Obscure! To uncover her mystery, we must do some pasting together of Apocrypha, midrash and poetry. The reconstruction of this episode may never be completely satisfying, but what does emerge is a tale of heroism and sacrifice. It is unclear whether it is Judith the widow who goes forth willingly or Judith the bride who is taken by force, but, once alone with the Greek general she feeds him wine and cheese. She waits for the soporific meal to take its effect, cuts off his head, places it in her basket and ever so nonchalantly she returns to the Judean camp. Officers, troops and soldiers of the Greek camp are left in leaderless disarray and a breach enabling the smaller Judean army to triumph. And thus the miracle was truly executed by a woman.

Now what do we see? Is this what we might call a usable past? I think so. The legend together with halachic practice has bequeathed to women a powerful symbol. Yes, we were victims; but we were also heroes. We are part of the miracle. We were oppressed, but we joined together with our brothers to fight back. Yehudit, Judith is enshrined forever in sculpture, art work, librettos, and novels. Her memory is recalled on the Shabbat of Chanukah when traditionally we recite a lengthy twelfth century piyyut, poem, describing the pathos of her wedding and youthful fears of what awaited her.

Let each and every woman light a Chanukah menorah, refrain from work, watch flames and remember. Let us see in those flames both the pain of our ancestors and the courage of their actions - both male and female alike.