CW: Miscarriage and stillbirth, these texts are difficult.
Below is the blessing recited before the study of Torah:
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יי אֱלקֵינוּ מֶלֶך–הָעולָם
אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָנוּ בְּמִצְותָיו וְצִוָּנוּ לַעֲסק בְּדִבְרֵי-תורָה.
Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha’olam asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu la’asok b’divrei torah.
Blessed are You, HaShem our God, Ruler of the Universe, who has sanctified us with Your commandments, and commanded us to busy ourselves with words of Torah.
Part One, in groups (~30 minutes)
BEFORE YOU START READING
Take a sec to get to know your hevrutah (study partner):
Suggested ice-breaker: What is one of the hardest things you've ever done?
Take a sec to get to know your hevrutah (study partner):
Suggested ice-breaker: What is one of the hardest things you've ever done?
The Chronology of Water
by Lidia Yuknavitch
The day my daughter was stillborn, after I held the future pink and rose-lipped in my shivering arms, lifeless tender, covering her face in tears and kisses, after they handed my dead girl to my sister who kissed her, then to my first husband who kissed her, then to my mother who could not bear to hold her, then out of the hospital room door, tiny lifeless swaddled thing, the nurse gave me tranquilizers and a soap and sponge. She guided me to a special shower. The shower had a chair and the spray came down lightly, warm. She said, That feels good, doesn’t it. The water. She said, you are still bleeding quite a bit. Just let it. Ripped from vagina to rectum, sewn closed. Falling water on a body.
I sat on the stool and closed the little plastic curtain. I could hear her humming. I bled, I cried, I peed, and vomited. I became water.
Finally she had to come back inside and “Save me from drowning in there.” It was a joke. It made me smile...
by Lidia Yuknavitch
The day my daughter was stillborn, after I held the future pink and rose-lipped in my shivering arms, lifeless tender, covering her face in tears and kisses, after they handed my dead girl to my sister who kissed her, then to my first husband who kissed her, then to my mother who could not bear to hold her, then out of the hospital room door, tiny lifeless swaddled thing, the nurse gave me tranquilizers and a soap and sponge. She guided me to a special shower. The shower had a chair and the spray came down lightly, warm. She said, That feels good, doesn’t it. The water. She said, you are still bleeding quite a bit. Just let it. Ripped from vagina to rectum, sewn closed. Falling water on a body.
I sat on the stool and closed the little plastic curtain. I could hear her humming. I bled, I cried, I peed, and vomited. I became water.
Finally she had to come back inside and “Save me from drowning in there.” It was a joke. It made me smile...
Take a sec. Breathe if you need to...
- Yukanavitch begins her memoir with the above passage. How does it feel to start your relationship with her in this way?
...אָמַר רַבִּי אַבָּהוּ מִכָּאן שֶׁהַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא הָיָה בּוֹרֵא עוֹלָמוֹת וּמַחֲרִיבָן בּוֹרֵא עוֹלָמוֹת וּמַחֲרִיבָן, עַד שֶׁבָּרָא אֶת אֵלּוּ ...
...Rabbi Abahu said: From this we learn that the Holy Blessed One was creating worlds and destroying them, creating worlds and destroying them, until he created these...
This story is part of a collection called 'Dirshuni - דרשוני- Israeli Women Writing Midrash'. The title kinda tells you what you need to know. Modern Israeli women writing midrash in the style of the classic midrash, collected by Tamar Biala. They are incredible. Tamar Biala is currently working on publishing an english translation of a collection of them.
Midrash of Miscarriage
written and translated by Tamar Biala
He brings everything to pass precisely in its time (Ecc. 3:11)...Rabbi Abahu said that we learn from here that the Holy Blessed One was building worlds and destroying them, creating worlds and destroying them, until he created these.
(Kohelet Rabbah, Vilna ed. §3)
At the beginning of God's creation of the heaven and the earth, when the earth was tohu va-vohu wild and waste, darkness over the face of the deep, rushing-spirit of God hovering over the face of the waters (Gen.1:1)
And God saw all Her worlds falling at Her feet, and she said to Herself: I'll just let My heart fall along with them, and I will sit in darkness, like those long dead. (Lam. 3:6). Her tears and blood were scattering in space, searching for land that would absorb them, and they wept to fragments and pieces, until all of existence was the cloud and fog of the great deep. God tried to look again at the ruins of Her worlds, and just couldn't. She covered Herself with this great deep, as is written, You made the deep cover it as a garment (Ps. 104:6), and She beat Her heart and wailed: for I shall be a desolation forever. (Jer.51:26)
What did She think at that moment, when She could no longer bear to look on those worlds? She remembered that it is said of Her, You brought forth the earth and the world (Ps. 90:2) And her womb, eternal (Jer. 20:17), and She felt her sons and daughters straining to be born so that they could say in thanks, for I was not killed in the womb (ibid.). She closed Her eyes, swallowed the pain lodged in Her throat, and pleaded for Herself, that She might find more loving-mercy, and faith, as is written: I declare, a world of loving-mercy will be built, Your faithfulness will be established in the heavens. (Ps. 89:3). And from that She went and created new heavens and a new earth.
When the heavens and earth stood, wondering and staring, tohim uvohim, She took off the garment of the deep with which She had been covering Herself, and that deep of cloud and fog, Her blood and tears, went and gathered into living waters, and She hovered over them back and forth, as is written when the earth was tohu va-vohu wild and waste, darkness over the face of the deep, rushing-spirit of God hovering over the face of the waters (Gen.1:1).
And what was She saying at that moment? That it should not totter and fall, forever. (Ps. 104:5). And Her sons and daughters joined their prayers to Hers, and they themselves said: That it should not totter and fall, forever; That it should not totter and fall, forever.
Midrash of Miscarriage
written and translated by Tamar Biala
He brings everything to pass precisely in its time (Ecc. 3:11)...Rabbi Abahu said that we learn from here that the Holy Blessed One was building worlds and destroying them, creating worlds and destroying them, until he created these.
(Kohelet Rabbah, Vilna ed. §3)
At the beginning of God's creation of the heaven and the earth, when the earth was tohu va-vohu wild and waste, darkness over the face of the deep, rushing-spirit of God hovering over the face of the waters (Gen.1:1)
And God saw all Her worlds falling at Her feet, and she said to Herself: I'll just let My heart fall along with them, and I will sit in darkness, like those long dead. (Lam. 3:6). Her tears and blood were scattering in space, searching for land that would absorb them, and they wept to fragments and pieces, until all of existence was the cloud and fog of the great deep. God tried to look again at the ruins of Her worlds, and just couldn't. She covered Herself with this great deep, as is written, You made the deep cover it as a garment (Ps. 104:6), and She beat Her heart and wailed: for I shall be a desolation forever. (Jer.51:26)
What did She think at that moment, when She could no longer bear to look on those worlds? She remembered that it is said of Her, You brought forth the earth and the world (Ps. 90:2) And her womb, eternal (Jer. 20:17), and She felt her sons and daughters straining to be born so that they could say in thanks, for I was not killed in the womb (ibid.). She closed Her eyes, swallowed the pain lodged in Her throat, and pleaded for Herself, that She might find more loving-mercy, and faith, as is written: I declare, a world of loving-mercy will be built, Your faithfulness will be established in the heavens. (Ps. 89:3). And from that She went and created new heavens and a new earth.
When the heavens and earth stood, wondering and staring, tohim uvohim, She took off the garment of the deep with which She had been covering Herself, and that deep of cloud and fog, Her blood and tears, went and gathered into living waters, and She hovered over them back and forth, as is written when the earth was tohu va-vohu wild and waste, darkness over the face of the deep, rushing-spirit of God hovering over the face of the waters (Gen.1:1).
And what was She saying at that moment? That it should not totter and fall, forever. (Ps. 104:5). And Her sons and daughters joined their prayers to Hers, and they themselves said: That it should not totter and fall, forever; That it should not totter and fall, forever.
- How do you feel?
- What has Tamar Biala done to the "source" midrash in this reimagining/retelling?
- What does this do to how you understand G-d? In terms of gender, power, emotion?
- What role does water play in both of these sources? What does it do?
- What style does she use in her writing? Why?
Forgetting
By Joy Ladin
listen to Prof. Ladin read her poem here.
Zion says, “The LORD has forsaken me, my Lord has forgotten me.” Can a woman forget her baby, or disown the child of her womb? Though she might forget, I never could forget you.
—Isaiah 49:14–15
“What It’s Like to Lose Your Entire Memory.”
—Cosmopolitan
You never remember anything, do you?
How I formed you in your mother’s womb;
nursed you; bathed you; taught you to talk;
led you to springs of water?
I sang your name before you were born.
I’m singing your name now.
You’re clueless as an infant.
When I tell you to shout for joy,
you hear a bicycle, or a cat.
Sometimes, memories of me come back
like children you forgot you had:
a garden; a bride; an image of your mother,
your best friend, your brother, or a cop, or snow, or afternoon.
The heavens shout; mountain becomes road;
gardenias burst into song.
Whose are these? you wonder.
Then you forget, and feel forgotten,
like an infant who falls asleep
at a mother’s breast
and wakes up hungry again.
Your mother might forget you, child,
but I never forget.
I’ve engraved your name
on the palms of my hands.
I show you trees, I lay you down in the grass,
I shower you with examples of my love—
sex and birds, librarians and life skills, emotions, sunlight, compassion.
Nothing connects.
Every dawn, every generation,
I have to teach you again:
this is water; this is darkness;
this is a body
fitting your description;
that’s a crush;
these are bodily functions;
this is an allergic reaction.
This is your anger.
This is mine.
This is me
reminding you to eat.
Turn off the stove.
Take your medication.
This is the realization
that I am yours and you are mine. This is you
forgetting.
By Joy Ladin
listen to Prof. Ladin read her poem here.
Zion says, “The LORD has forsaken me, my Lord has forgotten me.” Can a woman forget her baby, or disown the child of her womb? Though she might forget, I never could forget you.
—Isaiah 49:14–15
“What It’s Like to Lose Your Entire Memory.”
—Cosmopolitan
You never remember anything, do you?
How I formed you in your mother’s womb;
nursed you; bathed you; taught you to talk;
led you to springs of water?
I sang your name before you were born.
I’m singing your name now.
You’re clueless as an infant.
When I tell you to shout for joy,
you hear a bicycle, or a cat.
Sometimes, memories of me come back
like children you forgot you had:
a garden; a bride; an image of your mother,
your best friend, your brother, or a cop, or snow, or afternoon.
The heavens shout; mountain becomes road;
gardenias burst into song.
Whose are these? you wonder.
Then you forget, and feel forgotten,
like an infant who falls asleep
at a mother’s breast
and wakes up hungry again.
Your mother might forget you, child,
but I never forget.
I’ve engraved your name
on the palms of my hands.
I show you trees, I lay you down in the grass,
I shower you with examples of my love—
sex and birds, librarians and life skills, emotions, sunlight, compassion.
Nothing connects.
Every dawn, every generation,
I have to teach you again:
this is water; this is darkness;
this is a body
fitting your description;
that’s a crush;
these are bodily functions;
this is an allergic reaction.
This is your anger.
This is mine.
This is me
reminding you to eat.
Turn off the stove.
Take your medication.
This is the realization
that I am yours and you are mine. This is you
forgetting.