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December 19, 2003
Look beyond Mrs. Maccabeus
There are obvious heroines of Purim, Passover, Sukkot ... and
Chanukah?
RAHEL MUSLEAH SPECIAL TO THE JEWISH BULLETIN
One of my daughter's favorite Chanukah songs, a parody to the tune
of "O Chanukah!," extols Mrs. Maccabeus as the culinary
power behind her sons' victory. The ingenious woman, according to
the lyricist, Ben Aronin, wrote portions of the Torah into the latkes,
fried them until they shimmered/they simmered; they absorbed the
olive oil/and "made the Syrians recoil."
Despite its obvious fiction, Mrs. Maccabeus might be the only woman
most children – and adults – connect with the Chanukah
story. And whatever combination of activism and spirituality she
infused into the comfort food she allegedly invented, few of us
really take her seriously.
Our feminist connections are solid on Purim, whether you name Esther
or Vashti as heroine of choice. Passover conjures up a bevy of role
models: Miriam; Shifrah and Puah, the midwives who saved the Israelite
boys; Yocheved, mother of Moses, Aaron and Miriam; and Pharaoh's
daughter. Rosh Hashanah retells the story of Sarah and Hagar, and
Rachel weeping for her exiled children. On Sukkot, we invite our
foremothers alongside our forefathers as ushpizin (guests)
in the sukkah. But Chanukah is the holiday of maleness: of warriors,
battlefields and military might, of the High Priest Mattathias and
his five sons, most notably Judah. Could it be that Chanukah doesn't
have women to emulate?
So it was that, as I played around on the Internet one day, I came
across an intriguing Chanukah custom. Among the Jews of Tunisia,
Rosh Hodesh (New Moon) of the month of Tevet, which falls
on the sixth and/or seventh night of Chanukah (depending on whether
Rosh Hodesh is one or two days), is celebrated as Chag Ha-Banot,
the Festival of the Daughters (called "Rosh Hodesh el Bnete"
in Judeo-Arabic). According to Rabbi Herbert Dobrinsky, author of
A Treasury of Sephardic Laws and Customs, mothers bake honey
cakes and give gifts (often jewelry) to their daughters; men give
gifts to their fiancées; and all participate in a festive
meal, a seudah, "l'zecher ma'aseh ha-gevurah shel Yehudith"
– "in remembrance of Judith's acts of bravery."
Hmm, Judith. I am pretty well versed in the lore of biblical women,
but Judith only floated around the periphery of my radar. When I
turned to the Book of Judith in the Apocrypha (writings not
chosen for the biblical canon), I found a story rife with historical
inaccuracies, drawn heavily with elements of other biblical tales.
Briefly, the plot is as follows: King Nebuchadezzar of Assyria (in
reality, he was the Babylonian ruler who destroyed the first Temple)
orders his general, Holo-fernes, to conquer Judea. Holofernes besieges
the city of Bethulia and cuts off its water supply. Judith, a pious,
wise, rich and beautiful widow, promises to save the city with the
help of God.
Judith removes the sackcloth she has been wearing for the three
years and four months since her husband died, prays to God, dons
her finest attire and jewels, and goes to the enemy camp. She tells
Holofernes that God has sent her to grant him victory. He invites
her to a feast (shades of Esther) and she meets him at his tent
on the night of Rosh Hodesh Tevet. She pretends to seduce him, plying
him with wine and salty cheese – to make him drink even more
- until he passes out. Then she lops off his head with his sword
(shades of Yael and Sisera), gives it to her nameless maid –
who carries it back to Bethulia in a food bag – and orders
the townspeople to attack the Assyrians. Judith leads the victory
procession to Jerusalem, sings a song of praise with tambourines
(shades of Miriam and Deborah). She never remarries, though courted
by many, sets her maid free and lives to the age of 105.
So what does this have to do with Chanukah? There is no mention
of Antiochus or a single Maccabee. Lori Lefkovitz, academic director
of Kolot: The Centre for Jewish Women's and Gender Studies at the
Reconstructionist Rabbinical College in Philadelphia, traces the
link. In the talmudic tractate Shabbat, the discussion of the three
mitzvot incumbent on women (lighting Shabbat candles, mikvah and
taking hallah) diverges to ask whether women are also obligated
to light Chanukah candles. Yes, says Rabbi Joshua ben Levi, "because
they participated in the miracle of Chanukah."
"That's it. Period. It's an enigma," said Lefkovitz. Several
competing explanations developed, she explained; one grafts the
story of Judith onto the Maccabean victory. Another explanation
focuses on the talmudic tale of the daughter of a priest who, before
the Maccabean revolt, decried the custom of the Greek governors
who had the "right of the first night" with all brides.
On the day of her wedding, the woman stripped herself naked in public,
scandalizing her father and brothers. "You object to my appearing
naked," she exclaimed, "but not to the governor's sleeping
with me?" One tradition names the woman as Hannah, daughter
of Mattathias, and explains that her actions shocked her family
into avenging the humiliation, spurring the Hasmonean revolt.
Judith is a favorite of artists, from Caravaggio's horrific in-the-act
portrayal to Botticelli's paragon of chastity and peace and Cristoforo
Allori's femme fatale, beautiful yet heartless. However, Judith
hasn't stuck in Jewish consciousness, and it's no wonder. It's not
just the story's fictionality and circuitous connection to Chanukah
that has probably deterred us, but the violent action at its core.
"Not too many women see themselves cutting off someone's head.
We don't read the story and say, 'Hey, I can do that!' " said
Emily Taitz, author of The JPS Guide to Jewish Women. Nor,
I imagine, do most men enjoy envisioning a fellow male's decapitation,
enemy or not. Ouch.
The violence barely draws a ho-hum from most adolescents today,
said Marga Hirsch, a Jewish educator in New Jersey. Hirsch adapted
the concept of Chag Ha-Banot into an oral history project in which
kids interviewed female relatives to uncover examples of heroism
in their own families. "Compared to the video games in which
they explode people regularly, chopping off someone's head is small
dice. At most you might get an 'Ugh,' from a 12-year-old girl, but
mostly they say, 'Good move!' " Sure enough, when I did ask
my 15-year-old daughter, she was hardly perturbed by the gruesome
details.
"Judith's story fits in with the larger constellation of stories
that acknowledge women's heroism and sexual power, including Tamar,
Yael, Esther, Delilah," explained Lefkovitz. "The bedroom
is the battlefield where women win."
It's important to remember Judith's bravery, initiative, intelligence,
loyalty, friendship and faith, but "to do so unself-consciously
is problematic," she warned. "The story takes sex out
of the realm of pleasure to the realm of dangerous power. Judith's
beauty, charm, allure, attractiveness and magnetism compete with
reason. We should celebrate Judith's presence in our mythology,
but expose what's right and what's insidious about the story."
"Women couldn't face military opponents in the same way a man
could," said Rabbi Jill Hammer, senior associate at Ma'yan:
The Jewish Women's Project in Manhattan. "Sexual power was
the power they had, so that's what they used."
Tamara Cohen, consultant and former program director for Ma'yan,
grapples with whether Judith, warrior and avenger, is a good role
model for Jewish women raised to be "nice."
"Sometimes I can achieve a lot using my co-operative and friendly
approach, but I know that I have shied away from direct conflict,"
Cohen writes in Ma'yan's publication, Journey. Especially
in these days of violence, she says, Jewish women need to "figure
out how to take increasingly bold action to defend our principles
and further our vision of justice."
Whatever ambivalence Judith evokes, both Ma'yan and Kolot hope to
restore and highlight Chanukah's feminist overtones. Ma'yan's guide
to an updated celebration suggests story, craft, song and candlelighting
activities; reading, acting and discussing Judith; writing an ethical
will; and sharing women's art and recipes. Kolot commissioned Bonna
Devora Haberman's Mistabra Institute for Jewish Textual Activism
at Brandeis University Women's Studies Research Centre to create
a Chanukah performance piece. The institute, which brings texts
to life through creative methods in order to challenge contemporary
ethical concerns, focused on the tension between the militaristic
and spiritual (the miracle of the light) interpretations of Chanukah.
"In exile, stripped of power, the Jewish people was rendered
'female,' " explained Haberman. "The Zionist rediscovery
of Chanukah – conquering the land, reclaiming control over
sacred space – rendered us 'male.' We want to articulate an
understanding of Chanukah that retains our connection to the land
alongside a spiritual identity."
Other women's customs that have sprung up around Chanukah are worth
noting. As on Rosh Hodesh, women don't work while the candles are
burning. ("When I talk about this custom, someone invariably
says, 'No wonder the candles are so small!' " joked Lefkovitz.
Oil and wicks make the lights burn much longer.) Among Judeo-Spanish
communities in years gone by, the Shabbat of Chanukah was known
as Shabbat Halbasha (the Shabbat of Clothing the Poor); people
brought clothes to the synagogue to be distributed on Rosh Hodesh
Tevet – an unambiguous, genderless custom we can all adopt.
Some communities serve dairy foods and cheese in commemoration of
Judith's victory.
And what a phenomenal victory it was. The last verse of the Book
of Judith reads as follows: "No one ever again spread terror
among the Israelites during the lifetime of Judith, or for a long
time after her death."
And they lived happily ever after. Amen. So dig into those latkes,
sing of Judah and his mother, and remember Judith, too. We could
surely use an end like that to terror today.
Rahel Musleah is the author of the forthcoming book
Apples and Pomegranates: A Rosh Hashanah Seder (Lerner/Kar-Ben).
Visit her Web site at www.rahelsjewishindia.com.
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