Praise Her Works: Conversations with Biblical Women

8 Miriam

o 56 Chapter 8 Miriam MARSHA PRAVDER MIRKIN :¥vhÇ¢,Ig_r&z .%ÄN»t¦<( ý u ¥vhÇ$b¦,¥n zIºgàc vº¥r&dÇ¥j “She girds herself with strength, and performs her tasks with vigor” (Prov. 31:17). ohae vnt ,t arhdaf vhctk vrnta ohrn uz 'vhb,n zugc vrdj kgu ohrfzv kg v,rzd v,tu ohrfzv kg rzd tuv /vgrpkan lh,urhzd v,tu ihnhhe,n iht epx ihnhhe,n uh,urhzd epx gar tuv ',uchebv hn lnn ,tmk sh,ga h,htra tkt sug tku /lk oehu rnut rzd,u ehsm rthk u,fhkavu van vskha iuhfu u,at rhzjv shn /ktrah ,t ghauna u,ujt cm,,u shn 'lh,tucb ifhv vk vrntu vhbp kg vnt vk vjpy /v,tucbc vsnga 'ejrn She girds herself with strength, this is Miriam who said to her father when he divorced her mother, “Your decrees are harder than Pharaoh ’s. He decreed against the boys and you have decreed against the boys and the girls. He is evil and so there is a doubt about whether his decrees will come to be or not. ‘You will decree and it will be fulfilled’ (Job 22:28). Not only that, but I have seen that in the future there will come from you one who saves Israel.” Immediately he remarried his wife, and since she gave birth to Moses and had to throw him into the Nile, her mother slapped her [Miriam] across the face and said to her, “Now where is your prophecy?” Immediately “… his sister stationed herself at a distance” (Exod. 2:4). She stood by her prophecy. —Midrash ha-Gadol Pharaoh is worried that the Hebrews are multiplying so quickly they could become a potent enemy. He decides to enslave them and later decrees the death of all Hebrew baby boys. To protect Moses, his mother , Yocheved, places him in a small ark by the reeds of the Nile. We meet the young Miriam, introduced not by name but rather as Moses’ sister, 57 Chapter 8 Miriam when she hides in the reeds to watch the baby. Soon Pharaoh’s daughter, Batya, finds the basket with the crying baby and takes pity on him. At that moment, Miriam appears. She asks Batya whether she would like a Hebrew nurse for the baby, and the princess agrees. Miriam brings Yocheved to nurse her son, and later the princess adopts Moses. Years pass. Moses grows up as an Egyptian prince, runs away to Midian, and marries the daughter of a Midianite priest. One day as he shepherds his flock, he notices a bush that burns but is not consumed. Moses stops to hear the voice of God commanding him to return to Egypt and free the Hebrews from slavery. An insecure and ambivalent Moses agrees. After the hardships and tragedy of 10 plagues, Pharaoh finally agrees to free the Israelites. Butnotforlong.SoontheEgyptianspursuethem,andtheHebrews are trapped in front of the Sea of Reeds. Scared and pessimistic about their future, the Hebrews are again saved by the Eternal, who splits the sea when Moses lifts his rod. The Israelites cross on dry land, the sea closes, and the Egyptians pursuing them drown. At that moment, we meet Moses’ sister for the second time. Now she is named Miriam and she is called a prophetess. What does she do after being designated a prophetess? She picks up her timbrel, and all the women follow her as she dances. Time passes. Moses receives the Ten Commandments at Mount Sinai. The Israelites continue their journey toward the Promised Land, more frightened and discontent as the years pass, until Moses himself has a crisis of confidence. At this point, we meet Miriam again. She and Aaron, Moses’ older brother, are talking together because of the Cushite woman. Who is this mysterious woman? We don’t know for sure because there is no further explanation in the Torah.1 Miriam and Aaron then begin to complain, “Has the Lord spoken only through Moses? Has He not spoken through us as well?” (Num. 12:2). Hearing this, God is angry and calls all three siblings to the Tent of Meeting. Speaking to Miriam and Aaron face-to-face, God chastises them for not recognizing the uniqueness of the relationship between 58 Praise Her Works God and Moses. When God leaves, Miriam is white with tzara’at, a kind of painful skin condition. We don’t know if Miriam is suffering. We don’t know how she feels because she doesn’t speak. In her stead, Aaron begs Moses to intervene with God on Miriam’s behalf, and in a beautiful short prayer, Moses begs, “O God, please heal her” (12:13). God responds to Moses’ prayer, but insists that Miriam stay out of the camp for seven days. Nobody journeys until Miriam returns. The last time we meet Miriam is when we hear that she died in a place called Kadesh. She never reaches the Promised Land. But she brings song and dance with her on the journey through the wilderness, and she bids us to do the same. Commentary Miriam has always been an inspiration to me. She is identified as the woman of valor who “girds her loins” (literal translation) with strength. The strength that I see rising from her is spiritual, emotional , and psychological. It allows her to challenge the powers of her time and to celebrate in the midst of uncertainty. Unlike other biblical women, she is never introduced as a wife or as a mother. Miriam is a sister and a prophet. Her commitment to her brother and to God enables her to demonstrate the far reaches of her strength. Midrash ha-Gadol tells us that when Miriam was a very young child, her parents were thought to divorce because her father did not want to give Pharaoh any opportunity to murder a son that the couple might produce (Sotah 12a). Miriam confronted her father, admonishing him for being worse than Pharaoh, since Pharaoh decreed the death of the boys while her father prevented the birth of girls as well. Listening to their daughter, who was so strong in her faith, her parents reunited and Moses was born. Miriam, no matter how entrenched in her faith, did not seem to accept the idea of leaving the situation up to God. Instead, she developed a partnership with God, believing that “God helps those who help themselves,” as the old adage goes. She hid near the water, 59 Chapter 8 Miriam available to take a proactive role if necessary in saving her brother’s life. From her hiding place, she witnessed the princess coming down to the Nile, the river that was the grave of so many Hebrew baby boys. She witnessed the princess looking at the baby with pity in her eyes. And before the princess had a chance to change her mind, Miriam was there, a powerless slave looking at a powerful regent, offering her a way to live by her conscience. Miriam suggested to the princess that Moses be nursed by a Hebrew slave. The princess not only allowed Miriam’s mother to nurse the baby, but paid her for doing so. Miriam’s relational strength permitted her to see the possibility for righteousness even in the daughter of an evil monarch, and then speak up in a voice of faith and love. Miriam’semotionalandspiritualstrengthshonewhentheHebrews crossed the Sea of Reeds. They watched their only road back being flooded by water; they watched the Egyptians drowning. They looked ahead and saw limitless wilderness, interminable land without water or food. They looked behind and saw the deep, uncrossable sea. They witnessed a God who both saved them and scared them. This God could both kill firstborn sons and liberate slaves from their suffering. This God could open the sea for them and permit them to cross safely. What awe they must have felt, what fright. What do we do when we encounter life-altering events with potential for both great happiness and great tragedy? Miriam knew. She danced. That is why she is called a prophetess. Her job is to tell us what God wants from us. She did just that with song and dance rather than with words. Imagine what it would be like for us at such moments, if we had Miriam’s spiritual and emotional strength. Someone is going through tests for cancer. One site is clear. Can she celebrate that moment of finding one site clear? Or will she be consumed with fear that she may not be as lucky when the next results are in? Miriam danced. But Miriam also suffered from the constraints of being a caretaker who felt responsible as a big sister. Miriam had a hard time when Moses paid little attention to his wife, Zipporah. Miriam expected Moses to 60 Praise Her Works treat women lovingly. After all, she, her mother, and the princess had collectively raised him with those values. So Miriam confided her concerns in Aaron. At the same time, Miriam also must have been concerned about Moses’ psychological state. After leading these scared, complaining people through the wilderness for so many years, Moses felt defeated. He cried to God, “I cannot carry all this people by myself .… If You would deal thus with me, kill me rather, I beg You …” (Num. 11:15). How could Miriam, the sister who watched from her hiding spot in the reeds, sit by and watch her little brother suffer? She may have wanted to use her relationship with God to take on more responsibilities and assist her little brother. God had other ideas. Sometimes we need to witness the doubts and fears of those we love without stepping in to take the burden from them. It is so easy to call a teacher as soon as our children find something at school is upsetting—and so much harder to hear them out and be supportive of their attempts to deal with the situation. Miriam tried to protect Moses and got in the way of his growth. God became angry. When God left, Miriam was white. We are never told that God turned her white. Perhaps the knowledge that she had strayed from what God wanted and what was best for Moses led to a psychophysiological reaction.2 We also know that she didn’t say a word. Sometimes, it takes strength to allow others to make discoveries without our intervention. During that silence, Aaron showed Moses that he had faith in Moses’ leadership ability—he asked Moses to intervene with God on Miriam’s behalf. And, for the first time, the little brother took direct action to assist his big sister. Moses prayed to God to heal Miriam. God agreed but ordered Miriam to travel outside of the camp for seven days. During that time, the once fragmented community did not travel on, but instead waited for the woman who led them in dance and song. The last time we hear about Miriam is when she died in Kadesh, a name that means “holiness”. Her holiness came from her spiritual and 61 Chapter 8 Miriam psychological fortitude. She girded her loins with strength: the strength to choose gratitude over fear, to speak truth to power, to love and act on that love, and to learn about her own faults and be able to change. This is the meaning behind the new tradition of placing Miriam’s cup on our seder table. We fill it with water, reminding us of the well that followed her through the desert.3 Then we dip our hands in the water, taking in the sustenance that she provided so that we too feel girded with the strength to celebrate life. Miriam Speaks The night air gets cold in the wilderness. Here. Take the shawl and wrap it around you. Please, sit with me as I tell my stories and hear yours. For that is what we do: We women tell stories that connect us to the past and offer us a pathway toward our future. Then we’ll pick up our timbrels and fill the crisp night air with sound, joyous sound, for we must choose between joy and despair. And, with our timbrels, we choose joy. I am not the first of our women to sit in the wilderness under these glowing, uncountable stars. Our first foremother, Sarah, entered this wilderness , leaving behind all that she knew, to join her husband Abraham on a journey of faith. Hagar, Abraham’s second wife, ran to this wilderness twice. God saw her and heard her here, and promised her a future. Our foremother Rebekah’s footprints are also in this sand. She knew that the land of her birth held no spiritual promise or sustenance . At a young age she left all that she knew to travel to a new land, to marry a stranger who was our forefather Isaac. Our foremothers Leah, Rachel, Zilpah, and Bilhah also walked these sands. With their husband, Jacob, as their guide, they too found a home in the Promised Land. And now we sit under the same stars, guided by the same God, not knowing what the future will bring but knowing that this moment is complete and whole. You say I am strong and have courage, that I can enter the wilderness with song and dance. Yes, I can. But the courage doesn’t come 62 Praise Her Works only from me. It comes from all the women whose feet made prints in this sand, from all of those who gave up everything, only to find that what once sufficed as everything was not sufficient at all. Ah … each day we get closer to the Promised Land. But each day I also am more enchanted with the journey. You ask how I felt when we crossed the sea. That’s not so simple. The moment I stepped in, all my experiences of past, present, and future whirled around me and became one. I returned to my childhood. Arguing with my father, telling him that he should not prevent the birth of the baby who might lead us from slavery. I stood by as my mother made the ark for my baby brother and left him in the reeds. I knew my mother loved the baby and loved God, but I believed she was making a big mistake. Whoever this God was, it hadn’t shown its Eternal Self to us in hundreds of years. Babies were being murdered by the day. This God was not being very energetic. Still, deeper than my anger and even deeper than my fear was my unshakable belief that this God was there. But it wasn’t my mother’s belief. I felt that I was God’s partner and prophet, and that my job was to try to carry out God’s will on earth. And so I hid by the river, a young lioness, crouching, ready to jump, keeping myself still. And then she came—the princess dressed in her golden clothing, younger than I had imagined, determined, walking quickly, two handmaids following her, concern on their faces. She stopped short and looked toward the water. Her animated eyes dimmed. She fell to her knees. She didn’t stir. She looked at the remains of all the babies killed by her father’s orders, drowned in this river of life and death. As she knelt there, my brother’s cries burst forth and became louder. She turned in the direction of the cries, and saw him. She ordered her handmaids to reach for him and bring him to her. Tears began brimming in her eyes. Then I knew that God had sent me to hide at the reeds and that God would be with me as I made my presence known. I can’t explain what made me speak up to the princess. I can only say that I had the same feeling when my father and mother 63 Chapter 8 Miriam divorced, and a force in me, greater than me, pushed me to confront my father. I understood that it came from God, and that I, God’s servant, had to act. My acting came from a deep, passionate love. For God? For my parents? For my brother? I don’t know. Now it surfaced again with the princess. How did I know? Because of the tears in her eyes, because of her gaze into the water. We women have the potential to make and support life. Nobody should be able to destroy that potential. “Princess?” I asked, my stomach tight, my mind resolute, “May I get a Hebrew midwife to nurse the baby?” That day changed my life and the life of the princess. I was no longer simply Moses’ sister, and she was no longer simply Pharaoh’s daughter. We were God’s daughters, an army of resisters, with our weapons of love and faith, determined not to let the babies die. God renamed Pharaoh’s daughter Batya, daughter of God. And, of course, I’m Miriam, the rebel. Together, we rebelled in the name of God. The mothers were told to put the babies in arks by the water; the Egyptian women scoured the weeds and plucked the little boys out of the water. The Hebrew mothers fed them; the Egyptian women raised them in safety. All right under Pharaoh’s nose. That’s the strength of women of faith. We all left Egypt together, a mixed multitude: the Hebrews, the resisters, the babies now toddlers and children and adults, who were brought up across ethnic divides but within God’s boundary. No, I did not birth my own children. I feel that I have so many children, so many scared, awkward, at times lost children. I use my strength to strengthen them. So that’s what I was thinking as we crossed the sea. When my feet touched dry land, I felt such profound gratitude, uncertainty, relief , and fear. Then I had to choose. With all those feelings grappling for dominance, which would triumph? I chose gratitude. I knew that we could die in the wilderness, but at that moment, we were alive and safe. Dayenu. I knew that there was no water or food in sight but at that moment, we weren’t hungry or thirsty. Dayenu. And then the 64 Praise Her Works water closed over the charioteers and their horses, and any path back to Egypt was cut off forever. So what now? We dance. Not because the enemies have died. They too are the children of God. Not because the future is easy. No, because we are here now, surrounded by loved ones, witnessing the greatest miracle of our lives against all the odds. We dance. A Message from Miriam I have seven days now outside our camp. Seven days to create a better understanding of myself and what I might have done differently. The air is fresh and hot. The sand glistens and stretches eternally. I scoop some up and let the grains slip through my fingers. Each one of us who was or ever will be is one of these grains. Most people think that I was frightened when I turned white. I was. But I felt much, much more than fear. Aaron had begged Moses to help me! Nobody had ever done that for me before. But Aaron immediately tried to rescue me. And then my little brother, my Moses, responded as soon as Aaron spoke. I heard him, the one who stuttered , eloquently pleading with God to heal me. I brimmed with gratitude and sadness. I realized that I never expected anyone to take care of me before. I advised my parents from the time I was a small girl. I helped save my baby brother. I led the women in dance. The well of water followed me. I was a prophetess with no children to care for me in my old age. I took care of everyone, but who took care of me? Until that moment, I assumed God would do it. But when I heard my brother’s plea, I knew that God is manifest in each human being, and that all these years, I had never counted on people to help me. Please, dear friends, find God in all the people who surround you. Take in their love even as you give your own. Be cared for along with doing the caretaking. What enormous relief I felt when Moses’ voice cried out to God. For the first time, I felt truly cared for. My connection with God grew stronger from the gratitude I felt toward my brothers. 65 Chapter 8 Miriam Alone, away from our camp, I feel uncertain. Who am I if not the nurturer? The prophetess? The caretaker? Who is Miriam? Then I dance, and from this I know that the greatest gift I can give myself and my people is to dance in the face of uncertainty. Life can be a dance of gratitude, if we choose to make it one. And that is the life I would choose again. For Further Thought Think back to a time when you were feeling fearful because of some uncertainty in your life. For a moment, place yourself in that time. Imagine yourself in a particular location. Imagine what you are thinking, feeling, seeing, hearing. Now imagine that Miriam enters the place where you are experiencing this uncertainty. How would she enter the space? How would she look? What would her nonverbal messages be? What would she say to you? How might you respond ? Continue to allow the interaction to unfold until you are able to experience some helpful change in your perception of your experience , thoughts, or feeling. Imagine how you would carry this new information with you as Miriam leaves the space and you reenter your current time and space. Speaking truth to power is one important strategy in social change. Think of a change you would like to make in society. How would Miriam approach this challenge? How would she speak truth to power today? Tikvah Frymer-Kensky’s chapter, “Saviors of the Exodus,” in Reading the Women of the Bible (New York: Schocken Books, 2002), analyzes how women in their everyday roles acted with courage and ethical uprightness to subvert Pharaoh’s orders to kill Hebrew baby boys. Marsha Pravder Mirkin’s recent book, The Women who Danced by the Sea (New York: Monkfish Press, 2004), explores biblical stories from a psychological perspective. It connects the issues we deal with in our contemporary lives with those faced by our foremothers. Chapters on Miriam explore how we can find blessing and gratitude in the 66 Praise Her Works moment,evenwhenuncertaintyloomsinfrontofus,aswellasMiriam’s— and our own—roles in the birth of an ethical community. Rebecca Schwartz, editor of All the Women Followed Her (Mountain View, CA: Rikudai Miriam Press, 2001), has brought together a number of talented writers, Jewish scholars, and poets who present their understanding of Miriam from many different perspectives. ...