Maia’s Dvar Torah - 4 September 2021
Shabbat Shalom
Thank you for coming, those here at FPS and those zooming in. Postponing my batmitzvah has meant that I can have more of my family and friends around me, although it is sad that not everyone can be here in person. I am really pleased to be with you all today in my synagogue on the shabbat before Rosh Hashanah.
My portion, Netzavim, means ‘you are standing here’. It comes from the final book of the Torah, Deutronomy and has Moses going over what the people have experienced and the resealing of the covenant. Moses lists all the people included in the community and mentions women, children, newcomers and those who did the manual labour.
It’s obvious that times have changed since Exodus when the commandments and covenant were given at Sinai, because then, Moses directed all the instructions only to the men. There is a very shocking verse in Exodus where Moses said to the men “do not go near a woman”. This proves sexism was alive and real as he only talked to the male half of the community. It is interesting and confusing to see that after years of being discriminated against by the Egyptians they still don’t treat everyone in their community as equal. But here In Deuteronomy we can see how times have changed and how they have progressed to include women being named as part of the community.
Seeing this change in the way the Torah is written from the first book to the last means a lot to me as a Jew and as a woman. It isn’t much and there is still much more that can be improved, but it’s one of the first steps towards equality in the Torah that we can see. Obviously, the patriarchy in Judaism continued to be very common, and it is only in the last few hundred years, when both reform and progressive Judaism started to gain popularity, that women have had a bigger part in their communities.
At one time, and currently in some synagogues, women sit separately from the men, hidden behind a screen. Today, in this synagogue we all sit together here as equals. Traditionally men would wear a kippah and tallit and women would not.
Today I am wearing my great grandfather’s tallit which passed down to my parents who were married beneath it and now I stand under it to be bat mitzvahed.
My family has had a conflicted relationship with Judaism. Two of my grandparents were hidden children during the holocaust and many of my family were murdered in Belgium, France, and Poland. They were subject to the terrible consequences of discrimination.
My parents chose Finchley Progressive Synagogue because they felt it fitted well with our family’s values and emphasised what they felt was the most valuable part of the Jewish tradition. I think they wanted to give me and Shira a positive experience of our Jewishness and a sense of community and belonging.
Maybe the Jewish experience of persecution has led to there being a strong tradition of fighting for social justice in Jewish communities, as well as the fact that tikkun olam, the concept of repairing the world, and tzedakah, the moral obligation to give to charity, are fundamental beliefs in Judaism.
My family on both sides have a strong tradition of social action. Both my parents made sure we had a good understanding of world affairs and took us demonstrations from a young age. I look to my grandparents who have all been active throughout their lives, in trying to change the world and make it more equal and kind. This has been through political activism, charity work, campaigning or working with people with mental or physical health needs. Before them great grandparents who were trade unionists, or volunteered with the league of Jewish Women. I take a lot from those examples.
FPS feels like a safe and comfortable environment in which to explore my identity. It is a good mix of Jewish religion and Jewish culture. I don’t believe in god or that the Torah is completely factual, but I have always felt able to be open about that here and have never felt judged or disapproved of as a result. To me, the Torah makes for an important story, something that ties us all together, to guide us. Like an Aesop’s fable, we can learn from the stories about how to live. And the centuries that we have been sharing and reading them strengthens our identity.
My tzedakah project is for a charity called Play for Progress. They use music, the arts and creative therapies to support young unaccompanied refugees and asylum seekers.
So far I have raised £450 by doing face painting and festival tattoos at local community events.
I chose Play for Progress because the number of innocent people forced from their homes and into a danger and uncertainty breaks my heart. There have been over 40 wars or conflicts across the world in 2020 and 2021 alone. I feel angry and disgusted when I watch our current government making it more difficult for those in need to find sanctuary here. However, it is amazing to see how local communities rally round to collect vital resources for newly arrived refugees, especially recently from Afghanistan.
Having two grandparents who were forced into hiding at a young age just for existing as Jews, it feels particularly important for me to be able to stand up here publicly acknowledging my heritage and my Jewishness. I’m still finding out what that means to me, but it includes a sense of social awareness, a set of strong values and an understanding of the importance of a big, inclusive community.
In our community, B’nei Mitzvah read our portions on this day from one of the Czech scrolls. These were rescued from former Czechozlovakia (now Czech Republic) and brought to England by an English man who’d purchased them. They were removed from their communities during the holocaust and stored in a warehouse until the day they were found and brought to London where a museum was created to store them. Now, many synagogues around Britain have one or two of the scrolls on loan in their communities. FPS is lucky enough to have three.
I’d just like to end by taking a moment to remember my bubba, Rachel who passed away three years ago. She was a warm, loving and passionate woman and she is deeply missed by all of us.