#METOO: THE SILENCED ASSAULTED SPEAK

Yom Kippur, 5779—September 18-19, 2018

            Shanah Tovah, everybody and a G’mar Tov—May we all finish the holiday season fully sealed into the Book of Life and Health, Purpose and Meaning.  And a Tzom Kal, an easy fast for us all!   

            Many years ago, and now I’m talking maybe 30 years ago, I attended an interfaith clergy conference on various contemporary issues facing the clergy. The conference took place at Seton Hall University, a leading Catholic school of higher learning located in South Orange, New Jersey. And as one of the initial exercises, the clergy was asked to share what they perceived to be was the greatest challenge in their ministry. One of the priests who held a senior administrative position at the university asked those present for help in dealing with priests who had crossed the line, who had violated their sacred vows and, succumbing to their own weakness, had engaged in inappropriate, and what we would most certainly regard today as abusive sexual encounters. Back then, I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut, and being probably the youngest clergy at the table and representing the other faith, I certainly was not going to offer any perspectives that would be heard or welcomed. But I do distinctly remember thinking that the problem was a religious regimen, namely life-long celibacy, that was just too much for most men to abide by. And being unable to abide by it, they sought release in all sorts of ways that were illegal, immoral, unhealthy, and horribly damaging to who they represented within the church. Observant Jews had their own religious regimens that limited their freedoms and possibly their pleasures, but at least it wasn’t life-long celibacy. Jews had a much more reasonable approach to sexuality. And that was what I was thinking back then.

            Fast forward some 30 years, and not only are the Catholic clergy still in the news, but thanks to the #MeToo movement, there are a whole lot of Jews in the news whose alleged behaviors have given us a whole lot of unwelcomed publicity. Of course, sexual harassment, abuse or assault is not a specifically Jewish problem, but if nothing else, #MeToo has opened up a conversation in the nation that is long overdue.  This is an issue about sin, confession, judgment, teshuvah, and the possibility of forgiveness. #MeToo is Yom Kippur material.

            The #MeToo movement has a definitive beginning in recent history, but the problem it addresses has been with us for centuries. The Bible itself records its own #MeToo drama in the story of the beautiful maiden princess Tamar, daughter of King David. Her half-brother, so this would be a son of King David, became infatuated with her. His name was Amnon. He wasn’t the brightest torch in King David’s palace and agonized for a long time over how he could seduce Tamar. He consults with his cousin who recommends that he feign illness, ask King David whether Tamar could attend to him in his illness, and in that way get his way with her. The plan works. King David consents to have Tamar serve Amnon, she does just that, bakes bread for him, and then when he is alone with her, forces himself upon her. She protests and even shouts:

Such things are not done in Israel (II Samuel 13:12)

Amnon rapes her and then loathes her, throwing her out of his room. She is beside herself, screaming, and encounters another one of her brothers who seeks to find out what happened and she tells him everything. The rape was no secret in the palace, and the news eventually reaches King David, and though greatly distressed, he takes no action to either reprimand or punish his wayward son. Two years pass. Tamar’s brother, his name was Avshalom, was seething with anger over the assault of his sister. At when time came to have his sheep sheared, which apparently also entailed partying when the day’s work was done, he invites all his brothers and King David to attend the festivities. David declines, fearing he may be a burden (he’s on in years by then). So Avshalom counters and requests that Amnon would surely be a proper substitute in the absence of his father, the king. To this David consents. Amnon went out to the sheep-shearing festival, and when he was good and drunk, Avshalom’s men, following Avshalom’s directive, murder him—and that was the end of Amnon.

            The story should have an eerily alarming ring to it. There is something clearly immoral going on in the palace or let’s say the corporation; the details, more or less, are common knowledge among the royal family or let’s say the employees; the king, or let’s say upper management,  does nothing to reprimand or stop the culprits; and finally, the outrage over the injustice of the whole thing boils over and someone ends up dead. I would say that this last development in the biblical story does not necessarily have a parallel in our contemporary world, but for the fact that 1) clearly many of the alleged perpetrators these days have had their careers ended, which is a kind of mini-death; and 2) the public shaming that comes with the outing of the alleged culprit is pretty brutal. And as the rabbis taught:

Whoever embarrasses his fellow in public

Is as one who has committed murder (Baba Metzia 58b)

And there you have it, we can even say that the sordid details of our contemporary stories of sexual abuse, along with the public outing of the abusers, end many times with their own metaphorical murder, the alleged culprits publicly humiliated and shamed by secrets now exposed.

            Amnon did not have to die. But in order for him to have lived, the story had to include a couple other episodes. Amon would have had to confess his sin and express his regret. He never did. Or his father, King David, had to act to punish his son for his crime, but King David never did. And that, too, seems to be a common motif in our contemporary tales where women have gone to HR departments or to the police or to people in positions of authority and their demand for action or just even their stories went unheeded, or were poo-pooed, or they were not taken seriously. #MeToo, I believe, is a reaction to that injustice. Since the internal departments of corporate justice or even our own judicial system routinely and consistently ignored the hurt of and assault on women, what happens? Cases that could have been prosecuted in accordance with the rules of litigation and due process, instead are tried in the worst court humanity has ever produced, and that is the court of public opinion, which has no rules of procedure, engagement or due process. And we should all be very mindful of that, because the Kangaroo Courts of this world rarely end with just acquittals or just convictions. It is almost certain that there are people who have been accused and convicted unjustly in that court of public opinion. But right now, I’m depending on the words of Matt Lauer, who issued an apology following accusations levelled against him, which read in part: “Some of what is being said about me is untrue or mischaracterized, but there is enough truth in these stories to make me feel embarrassed and ashamed,” (Matt Lauer, Statement of Apology, NBC, Nov. 30, 2017). I think Matt Lauer sort of summed it up perfectly. Given all the tales of sexual misconduct that are now in circulation, there is enough truth in all of them, for all of us to question how we go about navigating a very natural, a very human need, and that is the need for physical intimacy.

            Many years ago, while a rabbi in New Jersey, our school depended to some extent on the teachers we could secure from the Orthodox community. And they were lovely, competent teachers who helped staff our faculty. One day I walked into a classroom, just to see how the class was operating, the Orthodox teacher looks at me and then at the children and says, “Yeladim (Children). The rabbi is here. We rise.” So all these pitzalach—they were third or fourth graders—they all stood up and looked at me. I was so taken by surprise that I literally turned around to see what rabbi had entered the classroom, until it dawned on me that she was referring to me. So then I said something like “Uhmm, you guys can sit down.” After class, the teacher approached me, having sensed that I was a little uncomfortable with what had transpired, and asked if she had made a mistake in asking the children to rise. So I told her—No mistake, but really, we just don’t do that around here. In Passaic, in the Orthodox synagogue, I suppose when the rabbi walks in, everybody rises, but in Springfield, NJ, in the Conservative synagogue, it just doesn’t happen, and it never did again after that particular incident.

            The fact of the matter is that our world often does not treat authority with the honor it deserves. But the flip side of that is much worse. It is people of authority who exploit their authority, and use it for personal gain or profit, motivated by their own selfish interests. The #MeToo stories are very often stories of this type of abuse, the abuse of personal authority. So a person in a position of power—the head of a movie studio, a network news anchor, a politician, a CEO, a clergy person, even a popular stand-up comedian, uses their own special authority, that power, over someone of lesser or subordinate power or authority for sexual favors. One could say that the person of lesser power or authority should have the presence of mind or self-will to resist, and there is some truth to that, but it’s not always possible physically, because that person in power may literally be overpowering, and it’s not always possible to think of an exit plan when taken by surprise.

            In the Greek and Roman world of antiquity, this sort of power or authority asymmetry in sexual relationships was a social norm. It was not uncommon for the actors in an intimate duo to be a master and a slave or a mentor and his student. The Judeo-Christian world largely rejected that type of intimacy and the wisdom of that position has been made manifest via the #MeToo movement as so many of the stories are stories between people of unequal power where the sexual overtures were unwelcomed and the subordinate actor in that duo felt trapped, and in the end, violated.

            The sexual harassment laws in New York are very broad. Almost anything said of a remotely sexual nature, if it makes a fellow employee uncomfortable, can be viewed as  a violation of those standards. I’m not necessarily talking about those incidents. People say stupid things all the time. They probably live their lives with little discretion or a deficit of tact. Government will never be able to legislate stupidity out of the human race, try as it may. But what I am talking about is a more fundamental aspect of our humanity, our sexuality, and how we go about the business of establishing an intimate relationship. And regardless of what the sexual revolution might say about who we are as sexual beings, creating proper physical intimacy has always been and always will be an exercise in morality. It is with considerable forethought and insight that within the confessional we recite repeatedly throughout this Yom Kippur, we will say—Al het shehatanu, We have sinned against You through sexual immorality.

            The sexual revolution of the 60’s was a sort of double-edged sword. It definitely brought a kind of freedom or openness to human intimacy, welcomed by many, but it also advocated the the release of sexuality from its traditional mooring in a loving monogamous relationship. The distance between that conception of sexual freedom and monogamous partnership is a few football fields and their parking lots. I’m not that naïve as to think that intimacy in this world will always and only take place within loving, monogamous relationships, but if I were to frame a rule here, I’d say that the casual relationship, that is not a consensual relationship, is also not a kosher relationship. I don’t like coercion in virtually any context, but coercion in a sexual relationship is a violation of a person’s humanity. It is really low. When we hear the slogan, as we sometimes do, that No means No, it is a piece of wisdom formulated by the rabbis some 2000 year ago who said:

Your “yes” should be genuine and your “no” should be genuine (Baba Metiza 49a)

That means that we have to speak truthfully but we also have to listen respectfully. No really does mean no.

The #MeToo movement may be a transition into a new awareness of sexuality or just a temporary eruption of anger that will subside and people will go back to the same sordid interactions, authorities subduing subordinates, men taking advantage of women, and nothing will change. But for argument’s sake, let’s assume the best. Let’s say that yes—this is a moment of extraordinary transition where everything is going to change. What exactly is it that has to change?

When the Torah describes the first sexual encounter, which as you may well imagine was that between Adam and Eve, the Torah reads:

And Adam knew his wife, Eve (Genesis 4:1)

            The verb “know” in this case is a euphemism for sexual intimacy. But the Hebrew root from which it emanates, yod-dalet-ayin, is a root that suggests a deep appreciation or love of someone. So, for example, when God is unable to keep from Abraham the imminent destruction of two wicked cities, Sodom and Gomorrah, God declares:

Because I know him… (Genesis 18:19)

I know this Abraham character—how he interacts with his children and teaches them about love and how he is really concerned with what is just and right. God knows Abraham but even more deeply appreciates him for who he is. The Hebrew verb used for God’s knowing of Abraham is the same Hebrew verb used for the sexual intimacy between Adam and Eve. In other words, the Torah perceives of physical intimacy, certainly of that between the first man and woman, as something greater than a biological act. It would be a sort of culmination of profound appreciation and love for one’s partner. Sexual encounters that are acts of domination—assault, rape, anything of a coercive, non-consensual nature—would be the very opposite of that knowing, that paradigm. It would be a willful act of ignoring another person and treating them as a means toward one’s own selfish ends.

            It doesn’t take a whole lot to be a Jew. If your mother is a Jew, then you are a Jew. But to be a repentant Jew, to be a Jew who is impacted by a 3500 year old tradition, that already takes a willingness and an openness to seeing humans in a special way. They are not merely the upper tier in the pyramid of animal evolution, they are not to be viewed as units of labor, they are not nameless, they are not singularities disconnected from family or cultures, and they are not play things to be used for anyone’s personal pleasure. We are, each of us, reflections of a greater energy, and fragments of that greater power, and within each of us burns a flame of godliness that makes each and everyone of us beyond precious, and sacred. And yes—in that sacred mixture are problems, shortcomings,  and failures. Actually, our problems and shortcomings and failures are part of our humanity and we had better understand that from the start and respect it, for there is no other way for any of us to appreciate each other without an acceptance of the totality of our humanity, which is a complicated composition.

            To manipulate a person emotionally is a sin. To defraud a person financially is a sin. And to exploit a person sexually is a sin. All those crimes take place when people view the other as a commodity to be used and not an organic, evolving, creation of God to be cherished. It all begins with the delusion that the world exists in order to satisfy our personal cravings. It doesn’t.

If there is to be teshuvah, if there is to be repentance, there has to be some realization that the person manipulated, defrauded, exploited, raped—that was someone’s daughter, that was someone’s sister, that was possibly someone’s mother. The hurt will end when we begin to see others in the fullness of who they are, and not in the narrowness of what we want them to be, in the moment. To achieve repentance, you have to really believe that you have been created b’tzelem Elohim, in the image of God, and that so has everyone else. And I don’t think we can force anyone to believe that because it’s a sacred myth of the Jewish people, it’s a conception of humanity that guides us in how we treat each other, it is a question of faith.

And you may say—Wait, rabbi, people of faith have also abused others sexually in profoundly offensive ways. And you’re sort of right. But I’m telling you now—they’re fakin’ it! No one of genuine faith can abuse a child of God, and we are all children of God.

            And then there’s something else we can’t force—forgiveness. I can tell you that forgiveness is a Jewish value and when one can reach that space that we call forgiveness, that is a special place of kedushah, of holiness. But like a whole lot of other things in life, I don’t think we can coerce or guilt anyone into that space. Reaching that space is a personal venture, it depends on the character of they who have been wounded, and the repentance of they who have inflicted the wounds. But wouldn’t it be nice to live in a world where in fact the culprits could admit guilt and repent, and where the victims could prevail upon their past and forgive?

            Ours is a tradition that is very optimistic. In Psalm 92 we read that the wicked of the world are numerous, proliferating like grass, but like grass they eventually wither and remain destroyed forever. On the other hand, the righteous shall blossom like the date palm. If you’ve ever seen a cluster of dates on a date palm, you know how numerous they can be. A mature date palm can produce between 150-300 pounds of dates per harvest. That’s a lot of dates. The righteous shall blossom like a date palm. The word for date in Hebrew is Tamar, just like King David’s daughter.

Tzadik kaTamar yifrah!

The righteous shall flourish like Tamar (Psalm 92:13)

Tamar was so shocked when Amnon attacked her:

Such things are not done in Israel (II Samuel 13:12)

Tamar got that a little wrong. Such things are sadly and tragically done in Israel, that is among Jews. What Tamar should have said is that such things should never be done in Israel. Let’s hope and pray that the Tamars of this world secure the justice they deserve, and that people will recognize the righteousness of their cause. Justice delayed is justice denied and in this case, justice has been delayed and denied for far too long.

Ge’mar Hatimah Tovah—May all be sealed into the Book of a good and a just Life.