Dear Friends,
Before we jump into this week’s Torah, I want to talk about the Jewish in the news. If you’re like me you’ve be lightly following all the Kanye anti-Jewish stuff and noticing every once in a while (pretty much at all times) that Judaism or antisemitism is trending on Twitter. The other day I was just putzing around on the internet and my attention was caught by this:
“The Jewish.” There was something about that incomplete phrase that caught me by surprise. The Jewish. The Jewish… what? So I clicked on it. Mostly it was “The Jewish Community” and mostly it was talking about addressing, wait for it… antisemitism (which is trending at the moment I’m writing this). Sadly, it’s alive and well, as it has been since the days of old. No breaks. Just varying degrees of publicity. What gave me pause however is just how potent this moment is for Jewish grief and discussions of antisemitism. Yes, Kanye and Kyrie Irving and and and. But also:
We recently observed the 4th yarzheit of those who were murdered in the Tree of Life Synagogue shooting. Learn more here: 4 years since the Tree of Life Synagogue + new documentary on HBO.
Ken Burns recently released a docuseries called The U.S. and the Holocaust, and then my favorite writer, Dara Horn, wrote a chilling commentary on said docuseries here: Why Democracies Are So Slow to Respond to Evil: Ken Burns’s docuseries The U.S. and the Holocaust confronts a topic that many Americans of every political stripe prefer to avoid: responsibility. I highly recommend reading Horn’s words, even if you don’t watch the series.
I want to pause and just say if you’re feeling that being Jewish is all about warding off hatred right now, I see you. It’s easy to feel defensive and frustrated and maybe even scared. AND, Jewish life is not defined by reactions to those who fear or hate or don’t understand. We still read Torah. We still enjoy shabbat. We still give tzedakah. We still welcome the stranger.
In January, concerning the hostage situation at the synagogue in Colleyville, I wrote the following:
I don’t feel scared because I believe so deeply in actualizing Jewish life. I don’t feel scared because I have the strength of my ancestors who had to endure terror I can’t imagine. I don’t feel scared because I don’t want to feel scared – because I don’t want to give any power to those who wish us harm.
I feel the same here. I don’t want to give any of my power away to those who spew hate, least of all, Kanye West. And so, let us take a deep breath and remember the fullness of Jewish life.
Modah ani l’fanecha, I am grateful just for waking up.
•••
In a strange transition and before we get to the main event of this post, my book fundraiser only needs $528.00 more!! If 15 more folks give $36, it’s done. Kaput. Signed sealed delivered. Let’s make it happen!
Thank you to everyone who has donated already. Your support made manifest means so much to me.
And now, on with the show.
Love, Meg
This week we read Parshat Vayera and as per usual a lot is happening. Today we will focus on the end of the story of the city of Sodom–the fate of Lot’s wife. Here is a quick summary to get us situated:
Two messengers (of God) arrived in the city of Sodom and Lot (Abraham and Sarah’s nephew) invites them to be his guests. The town council and the militia of Sodom come to Lot’s house (torches and pitchforks style) and demand to take the guests. Lot says no (and offers his daughters instead, yikes). The messengers tell Lot to take his family and leave the city because God sent them to rain fire and brimstone. There has been such evil in the city, it has to burn. Lot’s two married daughters and son-in-laws don’t believe him so they stay. Just Lot, his wife, and two unmarried daughters get their stuff and leave.
They are told, “Do not look behind you, nor stop anywhere in the Plain; flee to the hills, lest you be swept away.”
They head for a town called Zoar as God rains upon Sodom and Gomorrah sulfurous fire from heaven. But then…
“[Lot’s] wife looked back (literally, behind him) and she thereupon turned into a pillar of salt.”1
Why did she turn into a pillar of salt?
According to the midrash in Bereishit Rabbah 51:5, Lot’s wife, whom the Rabbis call Irit, had alerted the towns people that Lot was harboring guests. Apparnetly people in Sodom weren’t supposed to have house outsiders. She sold them out. The midrash reads:
His wife looked behind her - Rabbi Isaac said, for she sinned with salt. That night when the angels came to Lot, what was she doing? Going to all her neighbors and saying to them, give me salt, because we have guests. And her intention was that the men of the city would come to know of them. Therefore "she became a pillar of salt."
Her sin was salt, her fate was salt.
Rashi agrees and adds in his commentary on Genesis 19:17 that she should not have looked upon the destruction while she was spared:
You sinned with them but art saved through the merit of Abraham. It is not fitting that you should witness their doom whilst you yourself are escaping (Genesis Rabbah 50:11).
Perhaps this was a kind of voyurism–some sort of perversion?
The midrash from Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 25:11 feels more generous towards Irit and remembers that she had two daughters and sons-in-law who were burning in the sulfurous downpour. It reads:
The compassion of Irit the wife of Lot was stirred for her daughters, who were married in Sodom, and she looked back behind her to see if they were coming after her or not. And she saw behind the Shekhinah, and she became a pillar of salt, as it is said, "And his wife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of salt" (Gen. 19:26).
Finally, the Zohar also thinks her saltification came from her looking upon a divine entity. Zohar 108b:
"But his wife looked back from behind him." We should have expected "from behind her." What this text really means is, "from behind the Sh'chinah" (the immanent Presence of God). Thus when "his wife looked back from behind him," she turned her face to the destroying angel, and, as a result, she became a pillar of salt. For as long as the destroying angel does not see the face of a person, he does not harm that individual; but as soon as Lot's wife turned her face to look at him, she became a pillar of salt.
So what was it? Did Irit glimpse the Shechinah, the Divine Feminine Dwelling Presence of God and it was too much to take? Was she being punished for her previous crime: lack of hospitality?
Let us consider something else. Something symbolic. Notice that Irit does not technically die, but is transformed into this pillar of salt. One could clearly argue that that means she did die (is a pillar of salt alive?) but maybe not. And let us consider what salt is used for, aside from flavor. Salt is used to preserve like cured meat. To stop otherwise natural processes.
Here she is, leaving Sodom with half of her daughters. They are running to safety. She knows what is happening behind her. She is explicitly told not to look back or she will perish. Life is ahead! And yet, for whatever reason–an overwhelming longing for her other daughters, a plainly human curiosity, some other motivation–she looks back and gets pickled. Now she is with no one–neither her married nor unmarried daughters. She is there, forever, stuck and alone.
Perhaps the lesson of Irit is a cautionary tale of indecision. Of looking in too many directions but not committing to one. When I’m struggling to make a decision, I too feel like a pillar of salt. Sometimes we even call this being in a pickle.
Or maybe, Irit’s story is a commentary on the paralyzing effects of nostalgia, or living too much in the past. If so, wouldn’t it be quite ironic? The Jewish people have survived off of recounting ancient tales and looking as deeply as possible into our history. Maybe I’m not being fair, because we have also survived by knowing when to move forward– knowing when to leave or reinvent ourselves. During the Roman conquest of Judah, Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai knew when to leave the burning city of Jerusalem and basically became the prototypical Rabbi.
It can be excruciatingly difficult to know when to move on–when to not just dream about it or think about it but actually get going. And yet, that is where life is–ahead.
My grandmother recently turned 95 years old. We had her over for dinner and chocolate ice cream. She still reads the New Yorker. She beads necklaces and has recently gotten into Mary Oliver’s poetry. I asked her, “After all these years, what is your advice?”
She said, “Learn to adapt.” Learn to face forward.
Our past is a rich cave to mine but it is not where we sleep at night. Our past has songs and stories to share but we teach them to our children on the road facing forward.
Genesis 19:26