When I run counselor training at summer camps, I try to provide some “must’s” for effective child supervision. The counselors-to-be are told that they must be aware of their surroundings at all times, and they must put the needs of the children ahead of their own. They must learn the children’s names as quickly as possible. A counselor who does not know his/her campers’ names will be almost completely ineffective. Any teacher can attest to the power of the name. There is a world of difference between asking “Joshua” to sit down, and scolding “Hey, you.” The name lends significance to the person. Names create relationships and enable an interaction based on respect. People who attend oversized classes at large universities complain of being a number rather than a name as they become lost in the shuffle. When Moses speaks with the Divine for the first time at the burning bush, the initial piece of information he asks for is God’s name. How could Moses relate to the Almighty without it?

In this week’s parasha, Vayigash, Jacob receives word that his favorite son, Joseph, is actually alive and doing quite well in Pharaoh’s palace, so he busily prepares to move his entire clan down into Egypt to join Joseph. Before the family departs from Canaan the text provides a lengthy list of the names of those Israelites who enter the land of Egypt. It is here that we see Dinah’s name for the last time in the Tanakh. She is the only daughter of Jacob given a name in the scriptures, and her story is one of most horrifying mistreatment. In Ellen Frankel’s midrashic work, The Five Books of Miriam, Dinah describes herself as follows: “I speak for all those who have been silenced by violence, by neglect, by abuse, by disdain. Mine is a still, small voice, but it echoes through the ages.” (p. xxii). In the final parashah of Bereshit, when the children of Jacob line up for their father’s final blessing, only the sons are present. Dinah is nowhere to be found. Of the females in the Torah, Dinah might count herself among the lucky ones, as most do not even receive the basic privilege of a name.

Several years ago while studying sefer Bereshit with a group of teenagers, I asked them to create a family tree for the entire narrative of the book. Male characters were depicted in one color, and women in another. Almost immediately, the group was struck by the utter lack of women on their tree. In parashat Bereshit, for example, 23 men are named and only four women. In this week’s portion, the text makes reference to Jacob’s daughters, in the plural, but we read of none, specifically, other than Dinah. Without names, do the others even exist to us? What message are we to derive from this dearth of attention paid to the women of our history?

One effect has been an ever-evolving trend towards the subordination of women in Jewish religious and cultural life. It was not until modern times, and the subsequent division of Judaism into different streams, that women enjoyed some degree of equality with men, at least in certain circles. In other arenas, however, a staunch adherence to the perceived structure of Jewish tradition has managed to keep women in secondary, rather than primary roles. Women find themselves in positions that rely on the decisions of male leadership, both in the home and in the community. This lifestyle is frequently justified by pointing out that both men and women are happy in these roles and that these distinctions are in place merely to create more defined functions for each gender. While gender-separate activities may be appropriate and even beneficial within a community that collectively agrees to these standards, they need not be accepted as the correct or normative way to function as Jews.

When Ovadia Yosef, the spiritual leader of Israel’s ultra-orthodox Shas party, declares that “Reform…women…should be wrapped up in their tallit and buried,” he may think that he speaks for the whole of Jewish tradition. He does not. When Israeli Knesset Member Litzman of the United Torah Judaism party submits a bill proposing that women who read from a Torah or blow a shofar at the Western Wall should be imprisoned for seven years, he thinks that he is forwarding the spirit of the Jewish faith to its intended end. He is not. Rather these men could well be perpetuating hatred and violence amongst their own people, and further sublimating Jewish women in an already gender stratified society. If women choose to participate in the positive time-bound mitzvot to which they are not obligated, how does our society suffer? Who is hurt? Only those whose opinions on these matters are motivated by chauvinism and prejudice rather than by a love of our tradition.

The nameless women of the Torah remain anonymous. Giving them names may be a task beyond our grasp. The women affected by Israel’s proposed legislation, however, do have names. They are our mothers, sisters, daughters, and friends. We may not be able to fully redefine the roles in which our ancient women were caste, but we must take every opportunity to speak out for the rights of Jewish women today. For the sake of the women of our past, and our future, we must work to ensure that every person born into our community is entitled to practice Judaism to its fullest, as surely as they are entitled to a name.

By Todd A. Markley

Student – Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion