Dear TBZ Community,
This is the last Shabbat of the year, and in it we read the double Torah portion of Nitzavim-Vayelech. The opening of Nitzavim includes powerful words:
אַתֶּם נִצָּבִים הַיּוֹם כֻּלְּכֶם לִפְנֵי הֹ’ אֱלֹהֵיכֶם
“You stand this day, all of you, before the Eternal, your God” (Deuteronomy 29:9).
And then the Torah goes on to make sure we understand exactly who “all of you” means:
“Your tribal heads, your elders, and your officials—the entire body of Israel; your children, your wives, even the stranger within your camp, from woodchopper to waterdrawer…” (Deut. 29:9-11)
And then, perhaps most remarkably, Moses says:
וְלֹא אִתְּכֶם לְבַדְּכֶם אָנֹכִי כֹּרֵת אֶת־הַבְּרִית הַזֹּאת
“I make this covenant, with its sanctions, not with you alone…” (Deut. 29:13)
Not just those who are there, but also those who are not there. Everyone is included in this moment.
I love the insistence of the Torah here. It could have simply said, “All Israel is standing here.” Instead, it names the people who might otherwise be overlooked: the women and children, the strangers, those who occupy the margins of the community, those whose work is essential but whose names are rarely remembered. And then it makes clear that they too are standing before God. They too are part of the covenant. They too belong.
The medieval commentator Sforno explains why the Torah needs to specifically mention “your children, your wives.” He writes that these are people who normally require the consent of their husbands or fathers to do what they do:
שֶׁרָאוּי שֶׁיִּהְיוּ מַעֲשֵׂיהֶם בְּהַסְכָּמוֹת הָאָבוֹת וְהַבְּעָלִים
In a patriarchal society of the time – and, unfortunately, in many places in our time – women would normally need the consent of their fathers or husbands for their actions. And yet here, when the covenant is being made, they are standing there themselves. If the men were to say, “They are not allowed,” the Torah says, not only are they allowed, they are required. They must stand.
Kulchem. כֻּלְּכֶם. All of you.
That also includes those whom you – the power-holders, the ones in a place of privilege – might think should not be included.
It feels especially poignant to read these words today as we learn about the passing of Gloria Steinem, an American journalist, feminist, and activist who dedicated her life to women’s rights and became one of the most important voices of the modern women’s movement.
I did not grow up knowing about Gloria Steinem. I grew up in Chile, where the word “feminism” was definitely not a word in my vocabulary, and when I eventually encountered it, it was not a particularly positive one. Even when, as a little child, I imagined myself being a rabbi, I imagined doing it by dressing up like my father, as a man.
And now, here I am, senior rabbi of our incredible community, led by three women rabbis.
And I know that I did not get here by myself. We did not get here by ourselves. We stand on the shoulders of so many women who came before us, women who pushed open doors that had been closed to them and, just as importantly, held those doors open for the women who came after them.
Gloria Steinem was one of those women.
She helped change what was imaginable for millions of women. She fought for women’s equality in education, work, politics, reproductive rights, and public life. She was one of the architects of a movement that insisted that women’s voices belonged not only in the home, but everywhere decisions were being made.
This morning, TBZ member Judith Rosenbaum, CEO of the Jewish Women’s Archive, reflected on hearing the news of Gloria’s death. She wrote:
Twenty-one years ago, I had lunch with Gloria Steinem. We met at EJ’s Luncheonette in Manhattan, and she was somehow both utterly unassuming and glamorously iconic, in her aviator sunglasses and leather pants. When recalling the story, I have often led with the leather pants, because few can pull those off at 71. But while style is not irrelevant to sense of self and power, it’s not actually what was most notable or compelling about Gloria.
Just two days ago, when asked to name a leader whom I admire and who influenced me, I said Gloria Steinem. In that moment, I was thinking particularly of her unflagging commitment to feminist activism and to learning from activists of all ages. I’ve never met a leader who listened as much as Gloria, or who continued to the very end not only to mentor but to cultivate real friendships across generations. In a movement too frequently riven by generational differences, Gloria stood out as a model of learning from younger people. Perhaps that is because her feminist awakening came in her thirties, from an encounter with younger women at an abortion speak-out in 1969, so intergenerational learning was embedded in her feminist origin.
Gloria also spoke about how feminism gave her an even earlier feminist origin story: that of her grandmother, Pauline Perlmutter Steinem. Pauline was a suffragist who had addressed Congress, traveled abroad as one of two U.S. delegates to the International Council of Women, and was the first woman elected to public office in Toledo. But Gloria only learned about this aspect of her grandmother’s legacy when feminist scholars rediscovered her. To Gloria, Pauline had been a loving grandmother, celebrated by the family for raising four sons, keeping a kosher home, and devoting herself to community and education. The feminist activism was left out of the picture. Put back into the frame, it reshaped Gloria’s own story – and her Jewish identity – making her own feminism part of her Jewish inheritance.
Gloria taught us so much, and we still have so much to learn from her. May her memory be a blessing, and a reminder to keep working, keep reaching out, keep learning, keep building community with courage, grace, humor, and love.
We often think of legacy as what we leave behind. But Nitzavim reminds us that we are also part of something that began before us and will continue after us. We stand in a chain of generations. The covenant is not only with “you” – the people standing here today – but also with those who are not yet here.
This is one of the powerful things about marking the New Year, Rosh Hashanah. We look backward and forward at the same time. We think about who stood with us, who opened doors for us, who made it possible for us to become who we are. And we ask ourselves what kind of world we will help make possible for those who come after us.
Gloria Steinem spent her life expanding the circle of possibility. She did not simply want women to succeed within a system; she wanted to change the system so that more people could participate fully in it. And she understood that the work was never only about herself. It was about making the path wider for those who would come after her. In her words: “Feminism has never been about getting a job for one woman. It’s about making life more fair for women everywhere. It’s not about a piece of the existing pie; there are too many of us for that. It’s about baking a new pie.”
We are still far from succeeding when it comes to women’s rights (and so many other human rights). Unfortunately, in this country, we have moved backward in so many ways, undoing or threatening things that generations before us already fought for; it can feel excruciatingly frustrating to find ourselves fighting some of the same battles again and again.
But Gloria Steinem will continue to be an inspiration to so many of us. For ourselves, for our daughters, for our sons, for our children of all genders, and for a world that can truly call all of you – kulchem – to stand together, without differentiation.
No one stands outside the covenant. No one is too young, too old, too marginal, too dependent, too different, or simply not present at this particular moment to be part of the story. (And definitely, no woman needs their husband to allow them to stand in community, in Torah, and in covenant.)
As we prepare to enter a new year, may we remember all those who stood before us and made our lives possible. May we be grateful for the doors that others opened for us. And may we have the courage and generosity to open doors for others – to make the circle wider, the community stronger, and the possibilities greater for those who will come after us.
May Gloria Steinem’s memory be a blessing, and may her life remind us that extending possibility to others is itself a form of sacred work.
Shabbat shalom,
Rav Claudia