A Tale of Two Judahs
Rabbi Deborah Wechsler
If we had to assign a theme or a tag line to the entire book of Genesis it could rightly be rav yaavod tzair, the elder shall serve the younger. First said in the context of the twin boys Rebecca was carrying, it is the leitmotif of almost every relationship in the book of Genesis. I’m sure you’ve noticed that the same story seems to be told two or even three times about different characters and occasionally even the same characters. Twice Sarah casts out Hagar into the wilderness. Both Abraham and Isaac have wives who become paramours to Egyptian kings after lying about their identity. Rebecca has twin boys who jockey for position in the womb and the wrong twin emerges first. And this week again we read of Tamar pregnant with twin boys who has the exact same experience.
It is in many ways the story of the Jewish people – the younger or the weaker supplanting the older or otherwise stronger. Today I want to look at the way this theme plays out in two places – first in our parsha and second in the story and liturgy of Hanukkah.
The morning’s reading, the middle shlish of the parsha is the entirety of Genesis 38. It is an unusual chapter of the Torah. It is in fact one of my favorites in the ways that it shows off the Torah as the great literature that it is. If you fancy yourself a reader, this is a narrative that will speak to you because of its gorgeous language, deep resonances, and mysterious and troubling elements. It is an interruption of the Joseph narrative.
It’s not the kind of story we learn in Hebrew school or even day school. (Although I did try to teach it to my 6th grade class with a few omissions.) Jacob’s fourth born son Judah finds a wife, unnamed of course, and has three sons with her - Er, Onan and Shelah. In time Er grows up and Judah finds a wife for him named Tamar. Tragically Er dies, and so Tamar is given to Onan as a wife in accordance with the laws of yibum, levirate marriage in which a brother helps another deceased brother produce an heir. Except that Onan dies prematurely as well and Judah, who understandably does not want to lose another child, refuses to give Tamar to Shelah. So Tamar dresses herself up as a prostitute, has sex with Judah and becomes pregnant by him. But Judah had nothing with which to pay her when he desired her so he left his signet ring and staff with her as assurance that he would be back. Three months later the townspeople come to tell Judah that Tamar is pregnant and Judah, enraged demands that she be burned. At which point Tamar produces Judah’s signet ring and staff and says, “I am pregnant by the man to whom these belong. Recognize to whom do these seal and cords and staff belong.” And with that Judah admits to Tamar’s righteousness and Tamar goes on to give birth to twin boys, one of whom becomes an ancestor of King David.
Now you know why you never learned this story in school. Incest, prostitution, forced marriage, illicit contraception. I’m not sure it would even qualify for a PG 13 rating. But that’s what is deceiving about it. This story, though highly sexual, is not about sex. It’s about power. Power exercised by one who is weaker over one who is stronger.
Tamar is in theory, insignificant. A woman with no community, no parentage. She has no land, no father, no husband, no son. In the biblical landscape this means she’s got nothing and is nothing. And yet this narrative is nothing if not a narrative of a strong woman.
We come from a tradition where women are often absent or seen watching from afar. From Lot’s wife without even a name of her own, to Sarah and Miriam who watch their son and brother as they live out their own Jewish destinies. Tamar stands in sharp contrast to these women. She who was once the very definition of tzair the weaker, younger, less privileged, underdog emerges victorious.
We might be uncomfortable with the way she claimed her rightful place. I imagine not many of us would want our daughters to exert their authority and power through use of their sexuality. But as is the case with the other instances of rav yaavod tzair, the tradition validates the outcome of this supplanting of the natural order as what God had destined to be.
Beginning Tuesday night we will recount another instance of rav yaavod tzair. At the evening service, or in Birkat ha mazon after dinner, or as we light the candles, we will tell the story of another Judah who lived 1400 years later.
Like the story of Judah and Tamar, it has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with power. Or if you prefer, you can look up the story of Judith and Holofernes yet another narrative of a weaker woman using her sexuality to lure a stronger man into her clutches to help perpetuate the Jewish people.
The story of Hanukkah, as recounted by the Book of the Maccabees and to some extent by the Rabbis as well, is a story of military power. Of Judah Maccabee, one man leading a family who stood up to the entire Greek army on behalf of the Jewish people. This Judah was also one of many sons to his father, not the first born. But like the other Judah he distinguished himself by what he found to be righteous.
Often when we talk about Hanukkah we talk about the miracle of the oil. This is the influence of the Rabbis. The historical account features much more of the story of military victory. Gibborim be yad chalashim, the strong delivered into the hands of the weak, rabim be yad me’atim, the many delivered into the hands of the few.
As Jews, this is very much how we see ourselves, we are the tzair, the younger, the weaker the underdog. And I think that’s for good and for bad. I’m not sure the world sees us that way. In fact among the most profound changes of the last century has been a public reversal of the rav yaavod tzair. The world no longer sees the Jewish people in this way. We might see ourselves as grasshoppers but the world has begun to see us as giants.
We are the descendents of two Judahs. One Judah who sold his brother for a profit but also learned to admit his failings and became the ancestor of kings and messiahs. And another Judah who introduced foreign practices into Judaism but also instituted the first festival not prescribed in the Bible and became the model for generations of Jewish warriors.
We are yehudim, Judahs. Our name comes from Mother Leah who after years of personal suffering found enough and finally became grateful for all that she had. She gave hoda’ah, gratitude, for her blessings weak and strong, great and small. And on the Shabbat before Hanukkah so do we. Shabbat Shalom.
