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The Voice of Dinah© - Parashat Vayishlach 2017/5778
Rabbi David Baum
I have to admit, I have a bit of a weakness for selfies with famous people – I call them – famous Jewish selfies – you can see them on my Facebook and Instagram feeds. Like my pictures a number of years ago with Brett Ratner, the famous Jewish movie producer and mogul; or my picture with the former comedian and Senator Al Franken. Well, what to do now? I didn’t take them down – I just added two letters – 'in' – as in, infamous Jewish selfies. 
Of course, as Jews, we are part of a larger culture, and this week, another famous person became infamous. We are a Today show household, so it was interesting to turn on the television this week and not see Matt Lauer, the latest in a series of celebrities, politicians, and other public figures accused of workplace sexual harassment and now, as now know, sexual violence against women.
And I thought about my infamous selfies. The question I asked is, should I erase them? And this is what I want to discuss today – do we erase these figures from our feeds and our history, or do we keep the pictures? I want to tell you why I haven’t deleted them –it’s a reminder of the people, mainly the women, who aren’t in the picture.
Let me ask you something, tell me the first number that comes to your mind:
How many patriarchs are there?
How many commandments are there?
How many matriarchs do we have?
How many children does Jacob have?
I was recently speaking with our religious school kids, and I realized something quite remarkable – when I asked how many children Jacob had, they all said 12, all of them except one little girl who said, 13. They answered, 13? Yes, 12 sons, and one daughter – Dinah.
This is what I want to talk about today – the unheard voice of Dinah.
In this week’s parashah, we read about the ravishing or rape of Dinah. The story begins with the following note:
וַתֵּצֵ֤א דִינָה֙ בַּת־לֵאָ֔ה אֲשֶׁ֥ר יָלְדָ֖ה לְיַעֲקֹ֑ב לִרְא֖וֹת בִּבְנ֥וֹת הָאָֽרֶץ׃
Now Dinah, the daughter whom Leah had borne to Jacob, went out to visit the daughters of the land.
וַיַּ֨רְא אֹתָ֜הּ שְׁכֶ֧ם בֶּן־חֲמ֛וֹר הַֽחִוִּ֖י נְשִׂ֣יא הָאָ֑רֶץ וַיִּקַּ֥ח אֹתָ֛הּ וַיִּשְׁכַּ֥ב אֹתָ֖הּ וַיְעַנֶּֽהָ׃
Shechem son of Hamor the Hivite, chief of the country, saw her, and took her and lay with her by force.
וַתִּדְבַּ֣ק נַפְשׁ֔וֹ בְּדִינָ֖ה בַּֽת־יַעֲקֹ֑ב וַיֶּֽאֱהַב֙ אֶת־הַֽנַּעֲרָ֔ וַיְדַבֵּ֖ר עַל־לֵ֥ב הַֽנַּעֲרָֽ׃
Being strongly drawn to Dinah daughter of Jacob, and in love with the maiden, he spoke to the maiden tenderly
וַיֹּ֣אמֶר שְׁכֶ֔ם אֶל־חֲמ֥וֹר אָבִ֖יו לֵאמֹ֑ר קַֽח־לִ֛י אֶת־הַיַּלְדָּ֥ה הַזֹּ֖את לְאִשָּֽׁה׃
So Shechem said to his father Hamor, “Get me this girl as a wife.”
It is at this point that the story shifts – it becomes more about Jacob and his sons, than Dinah.
So what do we know about Dinah from these four verses? First, she is given the epithet, Bat Leah, the daughter of Leah, the one who was born from her Jacob. Why not just call her the daughter of Jacob? Rashi, quoting the Midrash, says Dinah like her mother Leah, was fond of going out. The rabbis of the Midrash note that Leah, who was unloved by her husband, went out and pursued Jacob so he would sleep with her. Rashi even says this is where the saying, like mother, like daughter, comes from. I have to admit, this commentary really rubs me the wrong way. It is akin to what we hear after a woman is raped, "sure, she was raped, but what was she doing out at night alone? Why was she dressed in that way?"
Thankfully, not all commentators looked at these words, and she went out, in the same way. The Malbim (1809-1879), says that Dinah only wanted freedom of movement. He said that she didn't go out to see boys, rather, to see the daughters of the land. He goes on to say that Dinah wasn't a consensual partner in this situation, she was raped which is considered inflicting torture on her.
But it is important to acknowledge how Judaism's view of women's roles in open society have changed over the years. Rambam, Maimonides (1135-1204), who lived shortly after Rashi, said in his laws of marriage that women should have some freedom, but her husband should only let her out once or twice a month according to need. He writes, "for the beauty of a woman consists in her sitting in a corner of her home." (Mishneh Torah, Laws of Marriage 13:11) Unfortunately, the Rambam missed out on the movie Dirty Dancing, the famous quote, "no one puts Baby in the corner."
But, in many ways, this story, although the main character seems to be Dinah, after this moment, puts Dinah in the corner. Her brothers, Shimon and Levi, confront their father Jacob asking them how he could let this happen. They deceive their father, they end up killing Hamor and Shechem, and the other men, and they carry Dinah away.
I can teach a whole class on how this story is about the struggle between Levi and Shimon versus their father Jacob, and how this incident is retribution for the past sins of Jacob. But I actually want to look for Dinah – where is she?
In recent years, there have been many feminist revisions of the ravishing of Dinah which portrays Dinah not as a victim of rape, but as willing lover. Although the Red Tent is a great read, I'm not sure how healthy this retelling of the story is for us. Is this the only way we can hear Dinah's voice?
Perhaps we are actually hearing Dinah's voice, today.
On Shabbat Bereshit, I spoke about the ongoing trend in the tech industry and of sexism, sexual harassment and sexual abuse against women, and the very next week, the #metoo phenomena began. It seemed like every woman I knew had a #metoo story, a time when they were sexually harassed, or abused. One of my former classmates, who grew up in the Modern Orthodox community, publicly spoke about how she was raped by an ex-boyfriend in that community. It started another movement, #gamani, in Hebrew, me too. There are secret Facebook groups where women are sharing their stories with each other, and it is heart breaking to think that this behavior is so rampant. But if we look beyond the pictures we've seen, in the background, we can see even in our own lives, times when perhaps we did not hear or want to hear, the voice of women who were suffering. We justified the behavior of politicians and artists alike because they created the things we adored.
Today, many of these men are being taken down, although many prominent ones, mainly politicians, remain standing. In many ways, we have jumped to the Shimon and Levi approach – burning the city down and her inhabitants, killing the careers of those who have done the most terrible things, to those who have committed heinous, but less extreme sins.
Honestly, I don't know what will happen moving forward, and what we should do. People have been asking, is there a way back for some of these men? What do we do with the creations of these men that we enjoy, like their jokes, their movies, their policies? But what about Dinah who is still sitting in the corner? It's time for us to start listening to the voice of Dinah. The more we hear these #metoo and #gamani stories, the more likely we will ensure that these actions will not be tolerated in the future, once the news cycle moves on to the next shiny object. The more we listen to these stories, no matter how painful they are, the more likely our daughters in the future will feel like they can share them. I am not naive enough to think that every single story is true, but, as studies have shown, 90 – 98% of stories of sexual abuse allegations and assaults are in fact true, and 63% of sexual assaults are never reported to the police.[1] Next week, we will read about how Potiphar's wife frames Joseph for attempted rape, but this week, I want to hear Dina's voice. To all the women who are telling your stories – we are here, we are not here to judge, we are here to listen. I'd like to end with a poem written by a colleague and friend, Rabbi Annie Lewis titled, Uprising.
Woman sitting by a fence looking upset
Me too, Dinah,
me too.
If only you could
see us now,
all the great men falling
like the idols of your
great, great grandfather,
egos slain
like the men of Shechem.
If only you could
see us now,
your sisters
taught to make nice,
take care –
shouting,
me too.
No more.
All your sisters trained
to harbor shame
for going out,
claiming space,
craving more.
Because we asked for it
so we deserved it.
If only you could
see us now, Dinah,
our truth
rising up like song.
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