Spring 2018

In Linguistics when you add a modifying noun or adjective before another noun it shows something out of the ordinary. For example, every plain old day is simply called a day. Once a year, you have a birth-day—the birth-day is out of the ordinary.

We see another modified word in the parasha today. Red Heifer. Most cows aren’t fire engine red without a speck of other color. It is unique and holy. Its job is to be killed and turned into medicinal ashes in order to purify the Israelites who have come in contact with death so that they would be able to be fully in relationship with God.

We read about it now in the weeks leading up to Passover to remind us that reliving the exodus requires preparation—both physical and mental, and reading about the cleansing ritual of the red heifer helps kick start the preparation.

There is a deeper message of the red heifer, however, and that is the fluid boundary between insiders and outsiders of a community. The red heifer ritual happens outside of the Israelite camp, but it is in preparation of something deeply inside the camp—that is the paschal sacrifice. The red heifer makes a stronger, united, more open, and inviting community through its sacrifice.

Now, usually it is frowned upon to call someone a heifer, but stay with me for a moment. My Bubbah, Miriam Schreibman, may her memory be for a blessing, was a red heifer. She did not have the same opportunities that I did growing up, yet she was the strongest advocate when it came to my secular and Jewish education. While she never had the opportunity to go to college, she was the one who took me to the library weekly as a young girl, helped me get my first library card, and introduced me to books that were above my reading level, always pushing me to learn and grow.

She took me to Shabbat services, and sat with me in the back row, her weekly seat, and wouldn’t let me leave until after she had schmoozed with everyone at Kiddush. She was active in sisterhood, Hadassa, and any Jewish board she could sit on. When the synagogue she attended finally allowed women to have full participation, at the age 47 she had an adult Bat Mitzvah.

She died far too young and never saw her granddaughter go to rabbinical school, but I can’t help but think of her often. Her sacrifices and activism in the Jewish world paved the way to eliminating the boundaries that were previously in place between men’s and women’s participation.

In other words, her sacrifice outside of the camp led to a spiritual growth and shift inside of the camp. Because of her work, I am a part of a continued link in the chain of rabbis, from the destruction of the 2^nd temple until now. I am fiercely proud to be a woman with a religious community role that was not available to my grandmother, as well as every generation of women before her. 

That just goes to show you the holy work of Sisterhood. It makes the Jewish community stronger, united, more open, and inviting. Just take today as an example: Sisterhood Shabbat gave so many women the opportunity to take over the leadership of every part of the service in a safe and welcoming atmosphere and the result was beautiful. 

Of course, this is just one of the many ways that Sisterhood makes Temple Sholom a wonderful place to be. Whether it is taking a bar or bat mitzvah family through the intimate ritual of picking out their first tallit in the gift shop or a wine glass painting event, what Sisterhood provides is unique and holy. Thank you, Sisterhood, for being out of the ordinary, and for making Temple Sholom more united, open, and inviting through all that you do.