A few weeks ago, Jews around the world read from Parshat Pinchas, the section in the Torah (Five Books of Moses) from BaMidbar (Numbers) 25:10 to 30:1. Within this section, at the beginning of chapter 27, is the story of five women: Machlah, Noah, Chaglah, Milkah, and Tirtzah. They approach Moses with a petition,
“Our father died in the desert…and he had no sons. Why should our father’s name vanish from within his family’s, because he had no sons? Give us a portion from that of our father’s brothers.”*
The prior rule in the Torah is that land can only be in the possession of men. Women cannot inherit land from their husbands or fathers. But, if a father has no sons, his portion of land passes out of his family’s possession. Machlah, Noah, Chaglah, Milkah, and Tirtzah challenge this law, and succeed. Moses approaches God, and God says that the women are in the right. They will inherit their father’s land, though they must marry within their tribe, so that the land doesn’t pass to a different tribe. Because, hey, this is still earlier than at least 450 BCE, and their children will inherit the tribe of their father. Furthermore, they set a precedent for future inheritance law.
There’s a lot of discussion among Jewish commentators surrounding these five women. And, almost always, they’re referred to as the Daughters of Zalophechad, by their father’s name. Which, as my rabbi pointed out, is kind of weird. Because they’re some of the few women who are explicitly named in the Torah. Despite having the honor of God, Godself, actually granting their request, their names are essentially erased, to the point where I, a self-proclaimed Jewish feminist, had to actually look it up (for the record, I totally remembered Milkah, because it’s an awesome name).
This shit happens a lot in Jewish commentaries. Women are erased. Exemptions for women turn into prohibitions. Restrictive laws for men fall out of practice but become more stringent for women. And it’s crap.
Enter feminist Judaism. At my egalitarian synagogue, we spent some time learning about these women, instead of the man for whom the Torah portion is named. Feminist Judaism calls for scrutiny of restrictions for women, to evaluate if they’re actually true to the tradition and the Law. Feminist Judaism calls for reinterpretation, in light of current realities and knowledge of gender.
For me, my feminism and my Judaism have always traveled hand in hand, probably because Judaism is chock full of calls for justice and compassion. Sometimes it’s a struggle. I’ve been told that I’m endangering my soul. Or that I’m worse for Judaism than Hitler. People can be really hateful and resistant to change. But I’ve also represented my community on Rosh Hashanah, as I’ve led prayers for forgiveness and renewal. I’ve wrestled with texts while trying to define a feminist Jewish marriage, something that the greater Jewish community is very much struggling with. After learning the laws of niddah, and wrestling with the often-misogynist interpretations of those laws, I have reclaimed the time of separation and the mikvah as space to look within and spend time on myself, as an individual, rather than half of a married couple.
It’s difficult work, sometimes. But, in the end, it brings me joy. It brings me community. It connects me to my family, my ancestors, the greater Jewish people. It’s a gratifying “fuck you” to everyone who would see my culture destroyed, to Pogroms, to the Inquisition, to the Romans, to assimilation. And, of course, I believe in God, and through my feminist Judaism I feel greater spirituality and connection with haShem**. So, for me at least, the struggle is worth it.
*My translation. I removed a bit about the conditions of Zalophechad’s death, for clarity.
** Literally, the Name.