Today I’m feeling inspired to talk about the Torah that comes beyond “The Torah.” The Torah of continual Jewish text. Amos Oz and Fania Oz-Salzberger write in their book Jews and Words:
“Jewish continuity was always paved with words.”1
Jewish continuity. Making words today.
Currently, I’m reading a book called Beyond The Pale, a novel by Elana Dykewomon, published in 1997. This book is an story of Jewish families and particularly the women who survive the Kishniev pogrom of 1903, immigrate to New York, and get involved in the unions and socialist discourse of the day, and (as the author’s last name might hint), fall in love with each other. Lesbian Jewish historical fiction? Sign me up!
Because it’s such a great read, I won’t give any more spoilers than that (and more on lesbian Jewish narratives later, I’m doing some research). What’s important for today is that in this book, there is Torah – words that calls out to you to consider God and fate and hope and despair. A contemporary Jew, writing about past Jews that reference ancient Jews. Jewish continuity.
There is one passage from this novel in particular that I want to share with you and use for our interpretation. It comes out of the mouth of a Jewish women named Pesal who is described as incredibly large and strong. This is what she says:
“They have their books, they can tell you anything is written. They think they’re very important because they know the secret language of God. If you ask me, God speaks in onions. But who asks?”2
Besides the contradiction this poses to Oz-Salzberger’s quote above and the slight irony that this passage comes from a book and – or besides the incredible reclaiming of literary and theological space – this is some fascinating Torah. God speaks in onions.
Why onions?
They are this perfect little package with their own wrapping paper. They grow in the ground and are the punchline of many Yiddish curses. As the 2001 animated movie Shrek made popular, onions have layers which can be peeled, or when they are cut, they have wrings like a tree. The natural world in miniature. They make you cry. But if you can get past the tears and the smell that stains your hands, you can cut them up and cook them until they are sweet. As you wait for them to cook, they fill the whole house with that smell – you know that smell. There is nothing like the smell of cooking onions, I dare not even try to describe it. “Home” may sum it up best.
From dirt to air. Onions are transformation. Spicy with the great potential of sweet. Paradox in process. There is no doubt in my mind that Eternal Source Of Life is fluent in the languages of paradox and process.
Is it that anything can be Torah? I don’t know the answer to that. I do know that Torah is expansive. If Torah was a house, it would have open doors and windows for all to visit.
Less than $500 to go to turn Turn It, Turn It into a book! Tell you friends! Tell your pets! And head on over to THIS LINK to find out how you can support.
Amos Oz and Fania Oz-Salzberger. Jews and Words (Yale University Press, New Haven; 2012), x.
Elana Dykewomon. Beyond The Pale (Raincoast Books, Vancouver; 1997), 19.