Tag Archives: Sex

Ki Tetzei, Deuteronomy 21:10-25:19

Deuteronomy/Devarim, Ki Tetzei, , , , , ,
Link to Parsha: http://www.hebcal.com/sedrot/kiteitzei

To Wear is Human

By Rabbi Elliot Kukla and Reuben Zellman

For all those who have ever struggled with how to discipline children’s bad behavior, this
week’s parsha, Ki-Teitze, offers an easy answer: stone them to death! (Deut. 21:21)

Thankfully, Jews have recognized for over a thousand years that this is an unacceptable solution to a common problem. In fact, we learn in the Talmud (Sanhedrin 71a) that this apparent commandment of the Torah was never once carried out. Our Sages refused to understand this verse literally, as it conflicted with their understanding of the holiness of each and every human life.

With this scenario in mind, let us look at another verse in our parsha: “A man’s clothes should not be on a woman, and a man should not wear the apparel of a woman; for anyone who does these things, it is an abomination before God.” (Deut. 22:5) Just as classical Jewish scholars reinterpreted the commandment to stone to death rebellious children, they also read our portion’s apparent ban on “cross-dressing” to yield a much narrower prohibition.

The great medieval commentator Rashi explains that this verse is not simply forbidding
wearing the clothes of the “opposite gender.” Rashi writes that such dress is prohibited only when it will lead to adultery. Maimonides, a 12th century codifier of Jewish law, claims that this verse is actually intended to prohibit cross-dressing for the purposes of idol worship. (Sefer haMitzvot, Lo Taaseh 39-40) In other words, according to the classical scholars of our tradition, wearing clothes of “the wrong gender” is proscribed only when it is for the express purpose of causing harm to our relationship with our loved ones or with God. The prohibition that we learn from this verse is very specific: we must not misrepresent our true gender in order to cause harm. Otherwise, wearing clothing of another gender is not prohibited. The Talmud puts it most succinctly: v’ein kan toevah – “there is no abomination here.” (Babylonian Talmud, Nazir 59a-b)

So, what does this verse mean for us today? In order to understand it in our own context, we need to examine two questions: What does it mean to wear clothing of a gender we are not? And, what does it mean to cause harm?

Many people feel like their true gender is not (or is not only) the gender that was assigned to them at birth. The Torah is asking us not to misrepresent our gender, which we can understand as using external garments to conceal our inner selves. Unfortunately, many transgender and genderqueer people today feel forced to hide in exactly this way. In our society the penalty for expressing the fullness of a gender-variant identity is often severe and can include verbal, sexual, and physical abuse, employment discrimination, an inability to access education and health care and, sometimes, murder.

Gender rigidity does not just impact transgender and genderqueer people. It also harms the eight year-old boy who was suspended from school for wearing his ballet tutu to class in upstate New York, the flight attendant in Atlanta who sued her employer for firing her because of her refusal to wear make-up, and the butch lesbian who was shouted at and harassed in a “women’s” restroom in a synagogue in Los Angeles. Much of this mistreatment comes from those who insist that wearing the clothes of the “other gender” is wrong “because it says so in the Bible.”

Classical Jewish scholars do not accept such a justification for narrow-mindedness. Neither should we. Rather, we can flip mainstream understandings of our verse on their head and understand it as a positive mitzvah, a sacred obligation to present the fullness of our gender as authentically as possible. Unfortunately, not everyone is able to fulfill this mitzvah without endangering their life or livelihood, and the protection of human life always comes first in Judaism. However, the Torah wants us to be true to ourselves.

Next, we come to the second part of our prohibition: that we must not cover up our gender in order to cause harm. Transgender and genderqueer people who hide under the clothing of the gender they were assigned – rather than expressing themselves as they really are – suffer terrible harm. Rates of depression, suicide, and destructive self-medication are astronomical.

Each and every soul is created in the multifaceted image of the Creator. When we try to conceal that uniqueness, we cause ourselves pain. And when we ask others to obscure themselves we cause them harm. The great majority of our parsha is concerned with the minute details of preventing harm. The lines before our verse, teach that if we see that someone’s donkey has fallen down, we are required to help that person lift the animal up. The verse immediately following, instructs us never to hurt a mother bird as we are collecting her eggs. And the very next verse commands us to build a guardrail around the roof of our houses, to prevent anyone from falling off . The verse about what to wear is nestled amongst mitzvot that guide us towards exquisite levels of empathy and gentleness towards all of creation.

As our Sages realized, a sacred tradition that command us not to cause pain to a single mother bird, must not be asking us to stone to death small children or conceal our true gender. Jewish tradition asks us to safeguard each unique being created in the image of God, by preventing harm. When we cover up our true souls and muffle our divine reflection under clothes that feel “wrong”, we are harming God’s creation. This is what our Torah prohibits!

Kukla, Elliot and Zellman, Reuben. "To Wear Is Human: Parshat Ki Tetze." TransTorah.org. (Viewed on September 6, 2014). http://www.transtorah.org/PDFs/To_Wear_Is_Human.pdf

Sex and the Torah

By Akiva Yael

Sex saturates our Torah. So many of the stories central to our tradition thrive on sexuality, sensuality and straight eroticism. Entirely of her own volition, Sarah gives her handmaid, Hagar, to her husband for purposes of procreation. Lot’s daughters get their father drunk and seduce him. Onan resorts to the withdrawal method to avoid the risk of impregnating his late brother’s wife. Tamar disguises herself as a prostitute and tricks her former father-in-law into marrying her. Potiphar’s wife attempts to seduce Joseph and then accuses him of rape when he rebuffs her advances. And Shir HaShirim was clearly intended for languid recitation under the enticing glow of a Spring moon, the scent of jasmine in the air.

Of course, our holy text devotes considerable space to delineating the prohibited and the permissible within the realm of sexuality. This week’s parshah, Ki Tetzei, addresses adultery, virginity, rape, the problem of favoring one wife over another, cult prostitution, divorce and family honor. Included in the mix is a rather fascinating step-by-step guide to taking captive a woman from a people a soldier has only just vanquished on the battlefield; as well as the parental responsibility to provide proof of a daughter’s virginity and the punishment of stoning.

The drama of human experience is clearly balanced by a strict framework of rules and regulations. What proved relevant for our people in ancient times, however, does not always resonate as well today. “But if the charge proves true, the girl was found not to have been a virgin, then the girl shall be brought out to the entrance of her father’s house, and the men of her town shall stone her to death; for she did a shameful thing in Israel, committing fornication while under her father’s authority. Thus you will sweep away evil from your midst” (Deuteronomy 22:20-21).

I’m grateful we’ve left the days of murdering women who’ve had premarital sex behind, but the portrayal of sex in 21st century American culture doesn’t make me feel much better. We’ve retained a relentless emphasis on virginity, placing a remarkably high social value on both having it and “losing” it. For heterosexual men, there seems to be a concurrent value based around “taking” virginity. Movies and television depict consensual sex as passionate and effortless – completely devoid of anxiety, awkwardness, and very real negotiations around contraception and sexually transmitted infections. We’re generally treated to a story about romance blossoming, or an encounter that is in some way new between two (or more) people. Typically, we are not offered a portrayal of mutual fulfillment within the context of a sustaining and committed relationship. Yet, many of us have chosen partnerships or are actively pursuing partnership. The chasm between sex in the Torah and sex in Hollywood is enormous and most of us seem settled somewhere in between.

For centuries, our sages have devoted tremendous attention to sex. Their philosophical musings, judgements and advice have created a concept of sex in Judaism that is both inherently positive and profoundly spiritual. Of course, Jewish law frames all such sex within the confines of marriage. But as the right to marry has yet to be extended to all American citizens, and because marriage for many of us is a state-sanctioned category rather than a religious one, I prefer to replace the “sex within marriage” ideal with the concept of sex within a committed relationship.

In Judaism, procreation is only one, and not the primary, purpose of sex. Indeed, sex is a means for two people to truly know one another in a way no one else can. In fact, the Hebrew word for sex between husband and wife in our Torah comes from the root “to know.” Sex can prove a portal to deep and enduring intimacy, both physically and emotionally. It is essential for establishing a strong and sustainable bond between people working to build a life together.

When we think of ourselves as sparks of divinity, we must think of sex as the uniting of one divine spark with another. The resultant blaze is completely unique, unreplicable with anyone else. And if we are all drops in the ocean of infinity, uniting with another moves us slightly closer to God. In our tradition, sex is holy and within the context of mutual love, respect and commitment, it’s considered a mitzvah.

Unfortunately, from our Puritan heritage and perhaps other religious traditions, Americans have inherited negative and unhealthy attitudes towards sex. In Judaism, sex is not shameful. Neither is it a casual game or a weapon. The pleasure of both partners is paramount and God is thought to be present with those united in love. It’s as far from stoning adulterers as it is from summer blockbusters.

This week’s parshah is a great opportunity to think about our own sexuality and attitudes towards sex. Write a sexual identity manifesto, explore yourself or explore a partner. Contrast the experience of feeling connected to a partner and the sense of divine connection. Consider finding divinity solo. And always know that where there is love, respect and pleasure, so too there is God.

Yael, Akiva. "Sex Saturates Our Torah: Parshah Ki Tetzei." PunkTorah.org. (Viewed on September 6, 2014). http://punktorah.org/sex-saturates-our-torah-parshah-ki-tetzei/

Achrei Mot, Leviticus 16:1-18:30

Achrei Mot, , , , ,
Link to Parsha: http://www.hebcal.com/sedrot/achreimot

Making Sense of the Prohibitions of Leviticus

How do progressive, liberal Jews reconcile the apparent prohibition against homosexuality in Leviticus with the Jewish values of b’ tzelem elohim (respect for human beings as made in God’s image) and a commitment to inclusion and equality?  On this issue, the Reform position is clear, and succinctly stated by Rabbi Janet Marder, past President of the Central Conference of American Rabbis:

In my view, the Jewish condemnation of homosexuality is the work of human beings – limited, imperfect, fearful of what is different, and, above all, concerned with ensuring tribal survival. In short, I think our ancestors were wrong about a number of things, and homosexuality is one of them…. In fact, the Jewish values and principles which I regard as eternal, transcendent and divinely ordained do not condemn homosexuality. The Judaism I cherish and affirm teaches love of humanity, respect for the spark of divinity in every person and the human right to live with dignity. The God I worship endorses loving, responsible and committed human relationships, regardless of the sex of the persons involved.

There are many ways to analyse this parsha within the context of LGBTQ rights.  SOJOURN, a network that provides resources, education, and support for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender individuals and their families, has produced an amazing resource guide to explore the biblical text of Leviticus and deepen this understanding.  I would strongly recommend reading it: SOJOURN Resource Guide on Leviticus.  To support inclusion in your Jewish practice, look-out for welcoming Jewish communities that proudly display the following logo:

Keshet SafeZone

 

The Sanctity of Elemental Relationships

By Rabbi Shimon Felix

This week’s parashah, called Ahare Mot–“After the Death of”–begins by telling us that “God spoke to Moses after the death of the two sons of Aaron, when they came near before God and died.” The parashah then goes on to describe the rather long and complicated ritual which is meant to take place in the Temple every Yom Kippur–the sacrifices, fasting, and prayers, the scapegoat, and, as a climax to the day, the offering, by the High Priest, of the incense in the Holy Of Holies, directly in front of the Holy Ark, in the intimate presence of God.

The reference to the deaths of Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aaron, which we discussed a couple of portions ago, in parashat Shmini, seems to be introduced here in order to give added weight and authority to the extreme sensitivity concerning the high priest entering the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur. This, the Torah tells us, is an extremely dangerous interaction–“Speak to Aaron your brother that he should not come at any time to the Holy [of Holies]…so that he does not die. Only in this way [by carefully following the ritual of Yom Kippur] may Aaron come into the Holy [of Holies]…” Only once that ritual has been done according to all its details, on this one day of the year, may the High Priest enter the Holy of Holies, and experience the intimate, immediate presence of God.

After the Yom Kippur ritual is detailed, the parashah goes on to prohibit the offering of sacrifices anywhere but in the Temple; this act is seen as one of disloyalty, and is termed an act of “whoring,” terrible infidelity to God and His Temple. After this, the Torah moves along the following path:

– Do not offer sacrifices outside of the Temple.
– If you sacrifice or slaughter an animal, its blood must either be offered ritually on the altar, or, if it is not a sacrifice, the blood must be covered by dirt.
– In no circumstances is blood to be eaten.
– The parashah then concludes with a long list of prohibitions against certain sexual relations–incest, adultery, and others.

On Yom Kippur, in the morning, the custom is to read the first part of the parashah, that which describes the ritual of the day. Interestingly, the custom on Yom Kippur is to also read, at Mincha, the afternoon prayer, the end of the parashah, the part detailing forbidden sexual relations. Although the first custom makes obvious sense, what lies behind the practice of reading, on Yom Kippur, about the forbidden relationships? Moreover, how is the first part of the portion connected with the end of it?

I think it is important to note that the first and last sections are connected by more than the fact that we read them both on Yom Kippur: The opening section, detailing the Yom Kippur ritual, and, specifically the climactic moment of the high priest entering the Holy of Holies, uses words denoting coming near and entering.

First, we are reminded of how Nadav and Avihu died “b’korvatam lifnay hashem“–“when they came near before God.” We are then told how Aaron may enter the sanctuary–“Bezot yavo“–“with this he may enter.” The same word that was used regarding Nadav and Avihu’s coming near God is used over and over in regards to the sacrifices which must be brought on that day–“V’hikriv Aharon“–“and Aaron shall bring near” (i.e. offer, sacrifice).

So, too, in the section at the end of the parashah, detailing the forbidden relationships, we see the same key words. The section opens with the following words–“Every man should not come near (“lo tikrevu“) to their own flesh [close relatives] to reveal their nakedness.” The same root “karov,” to be near, is used to describe what happens on Yom Kippur in the Holy of Holies, and also to describe the relationships–the “coming near”–which the Torah forbids.

This connection between the ritual of Yom Kippur and the forbidden unions communicates to us a remarkable insight about the nature of intimate relationships. The Torah is clearly paralleling the intimacy one achieves with God in the Holy of Holies with intimate sexual relations. Just as the one must not be promiscuous, casual (“Speak to Aaron your brother that he should not come AT ANY TIME to the Holy [of Holies]…so that he doesn’t die.”), so too, our sexual relationships must not be that way.

The coming near to, the entering of, the Holy of Holies, God’s presence, described in the first section as an act which demands sanctification, ritual, and loyalty (remember the warning afterwards not to go “whoring” after other Gods by making offerings outside the Temple–outside the relationship) is paralleled by a similar view of sexuality. Our intimate relationships must also be sanctified, must be seen as something to be entered into with appropriate ritual, and to the exclusion of other unions.

It is, I think, startling to realize that the Torah, by equating these two things, is saying something radical about the ultimate importance of our intimate personal relationships. Just as our relationship with God is not to be taken lightly, and is of great, even cosmic importance–is, in fact, life-threatening in its significance–so, too, must we understand the nature of our intimate relationships.

The Torah sees human sexuality as something that closely parallels our relationship with God. Just as Eve, upon the birth of her first son, Cain, gave him his name because, as she said “Caniti ish et hashem“–“I have gotten a man, like (or with) God,” we, too, are meant to see the procreative act as somehow divine, as linking us with God. Hence the concern, on the part of the Torah, that we approach that act, and the relationship pertaining to that act, with the same care, commitment, seriousness and sense of sanctity with which we approach our intimate moments with God.

This is paralleled with the prohibitions against spilling animal blood without the attendant ritual of burying it, and against eating blood, which function as the bridge between the opening and closing sections of the parashah. Blood, the life force, the symbol of life itself, must be related to with dignity, respect, and care, just as our intimate relationship with God, and our intimate human relationships must be.

The Torah, in these three sections, is delineating for us an attitude, a world view, which relates to the most basic and powerful acts in our lives with sanctity, respect, attention, and spirituality. To relate to these elemental relationships and experiences in a casual, off-handed fashion would, in effect, define our lives themselves as casual, and of little significance.

Felix, Shimon. "The Sanctity of Elemental Relationships." MyJewishLearning.com. (Viewed on April 12, 2014). http://www.myjewishlearning.com/texts/Bible/Weekly_Torah_Portion/aharemot_bronfman.shtml?p=0

Kiddushin and The Sacred

Reflection and Opinion, , , , ,

What makes a relationship “sacred?” In what ways can you enhance the holiness of your relationship?

Understanding the Jewish conception of marriage, Kiddushin, was an important aspect of my Jewish journey and required me to answer some significant questions. How is my relationship made sacred? How do I make it holy? Even beginning to address such questions was difficult: for some reason, I felt as if I was required to be in a “sacred” place with my spouse it order to begin the process of considering such things, which brought me around in a circle, of course, trying to determine what “sacred” actually looks like.
Continue reading Kiddushin and The Sacred →