12 Kislev, 5774
It’s taken me a while to catch
up with my ongoing thoughts for each week’s Torah study. School is partly to
blame – some weeks I have to give more emphasis to those readings which are
graded. Some weeks, though, I need to sit with the portion longer than others, not only
intellectually and spiritually but emotionally processing it as well.
“Lech L’cha”
is one such parsha.
As I have written here before, coming out as a queer woman (in-transition)
I have been questioned numerous times about my choices and actions with demands that I literally explain my Self. Why am I doing this? Who am I to be going against the (socially-constructed) dictates of biological essentialism? Where was my proof that I am who I say I am?
At first I would earnestly attempt to answer these demands, not
realizing that in the end I could offer no reasonable justification, for the
speaker was merely projecting their own ignorance and intolerance. At the same
time I internalized the message my interrogator implicitly delivered – that I was (being labeled as) abnormal, freakish, (socially) stigmatized and therefore (morally) deviant, and as such was not deserving of the most basic human rights or common courtesies (such as not having to justify who or why I was).
(And please please please do not
comment with “But Ziva, just be who you are and don’t worry what other people say.” There is plenty of psychological and sociological research shows that platitude rarely if ever
describes social reality. We negotiate many of our identities in accordance to the social,
political, economic environments we inhabit, in addition to our biological structure...and this would include other
people we encounter, whether in the form of inter-personal encounters, as cohorts, or
even as members of aggregates.
Please don’t misunderstand – I am not saying we
should seek and rely solely on external validation to determine who we are.
What I am saying is that those who advocate simply "being ourselves" and ignoring
all others reveal a passing privilege that is unaware of itself.)
I have written here before how “Lech
L’cha” – the idea of being drawn by that small yet powerful and insistent divine/Divine
voice inside of us to go forth, whether to another land or another career or to a new relationship,
someone or something beyond the boundaries of our cherished comfort zones –
touched me when I first read it. That was 3.5 years ago and my spirit and heart
and soul still lurch and dance when I hear the passage. Indeed, when we
discussed it in a recent Torah study I had to hold back big fat tears. (This
was the second time I have had to do that since Rosh Hashanah 5774. Many around
me have suggested I share those tears with my congregation. I am not sure I can
do that yet, although it’s an exercise in trust I want to aspire to in this new
Jewish year.)
So I end this particular blog post with this one thought:
The Women’s Commentary on The Torah highlights
how the title of Debbie Friedman’s empowering, reflective and haunting musical
translation to this portion is actually the feminized command of the parsha’s
title, the distinction being that instead of meaning “Go forth or “go forth for
yourself”, L’chi Lach translates as “Go forth…go forth to yourself”
(82).
Which, for me, is a beautiful and beautifully fitting interpretation.
