“The Torah Is Our Autobiography”
R. Daniel Silverstein
Taking the stories of our Torah personally yields two benefits: help with difficulties in our lives and a deeper engagement with the stories themselves.
For me, a prime example is the story of Miriam, who offended God by insulting her brother Moses. For this offense, God inflicted her with tzaarat, a condition that rendered her impure and needing to be quarantined.
I was studying this story in the visitors room of Bedford Hills prison with Judy Clark and with Rabbi Dianne Cohler Esses. Judy had been incarcerated for decades due to her participation in the deadly Brinks Robbery which, at the time, she’d considered a politically warranted act. Over the years, she’d renounced her participation and all violent acts and begun to study Torah and Jewish traditions. For several years I’d been her hevruta partner, often bringing rabbis to meet her.
After reading the beginning of the story, we came to this passage:
וַתִּסָּגֵ֥ר מִרְיָ֛ם מִח֥וּץ לַֽמַּחֲנֶ֖ה שִׁבְעַ֣ת יָמִ֑ים וְהָעָם֙ לֹ֣א נָסַ֔ע עַד־הֵאָסֵ֖ף מִרְיָֽם׃ So Miriam was shut out of camp seven days; and the people did not march on until Miriam was readmitted.
Judy held up her hand to stop us here, gazing around the room at the other inmates. “I’m outside the camp,” she whispered, “all of us are outside the camp. No one cares what we think or feel, not even about our own crimes or situations.” When Judy stopped speaking, R. Dianne said: “Like the children of Israel waited for Miriam, we are waiting for you, for your release.” In a later meeting, Judy told me how much consolation she derived from R. Dianne’s assurance.
As I consider this story as part of my autobiography I remember how I waited for Judy, not passively but actively. Along with a group of her supporters, I wrote opinion pieces arguing for her release, lobbied the Governor for clemency, spoke at meetings in her favor. Finally Governor Cuomo, after an in person meeting with Judy, did grant her clemency and she was released in 2019.
My own way of waiting takes me back to the Torah and raises new questions for me: What were the children of Israel doing as they waited for Miriam? Did they feel lonely and bereft without her? Were they praying for her? Sending water and food? Or were they relieved to be sheltered from possible contagion? Or exhorting the priests to hurry her healing?
Being outside the camp became personally relevant to me when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. As I underwent surgery and chemotherapy I felt more and more alone. My compromised immune system kept me from the array of activities that had filled my life. When I expressed my grief and fear to friends, they tried to cheer me up with banal reassurances. The chemo nurses, garbed in smiley-faced scrubs, told me to “think positive thoughts.”
As the chemotherapy continued, I was too exhausted to hold up my share of household responsibilities. I felt so guilty that my partner had to do everything.
My work as a psychotherapist was severely compromised. I had to refer out my neediest clients, unable to respond to their late night cries for help. Other clients told me my pallid look and severe weight loss frightened and silenced them: how could they complain about their lives when my life was in danger?
One of the encounters that greatly allayed my distress was with R. Jo Hirschmann, a friend and hevruta partner. Our studying together had been put on hold during my treatment but as I came to the end of chemo, we met once again. She asked how I’d been. R. Jo listened carefully to my litany of distress, without a sign of judgment or discomfort on her part. When I finished, she gave me a look of pure empathy and said: “Serious illness puts us outside the camp.”
Immediately, I felt something heavy lifting from me. The identification with Miriam, my imahot, my foremother, was deeply comforting. Then R. Jo added:
“Miriam was not alone when she was outside the camp. The Kohanim (the priests) came to visit her, to check on her healing.” “Oh, I thought, I do have visiting Kohanim”—R. Jo herself, my beloved partner, Lois, the client who didn’t want a referral, who said he’d wait until I was back. My focus shifted from who was missing to who was actually there with me.
Experiencing this Torah story personally not only grounded and consoled me, it raised questions about Miriam I hadn’t thought of before: How did she deal with her aloneness? Was she sad? Bitter? Frightened? Whom did she miss most? Were the visits from the Kohanim consoling, or upsetting? Did she have faith that she’d be healed and released from outside the camp?
Taking Torah as autobiography helped me in my own life, helped Judy Clark in hers and led me deeper into the story itself. Ma norah ha-makom ha-zeh! How
awesome is this place!
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Susan Kaplow is a NYC-based visual artist whose work is inspired by Torah and Hasidut.
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