Then Miriam the prophet, Aaron’s sister, picked up a timbrel (or “hand-drum”) and all the women went out after her in dance with timbrels. And Miriam chanted responsively with them: Sing to the Eternal for God has triumphed, yes, triumphed, the horse and its charioteer are flung into the sea! (Exodus 15:20-21, composite translation)
“Where did they get timbrels in the desert?” Rashi asks following the midrash in the Mekhilta, and answers:
“The righteous women of that generation were
so confident that the Creator would perform miracles for them that they took
timbrels from Egypt:”
Without detracting from the miracles and wonders, I want
to go back in time one additional week to uncover a foundational layer.
Although the Israelites left Egypt “with much property,” most of it was “borrowed”
from Egyptians at the very end. On the morning of 14 Nisan, as the Israelites prepared
for departure, how much property could slaves have had? Maybe two changes of
clothes and a blanket for each person and some kitchen utensils – including a kneading
bowl – for the family. And a hand-drum.
According to ancient texts, including the Bible, and
archaeological evidence, in the Ancient Near East hand-drums
were customarily played by women. They were simpler than our modern tambourines,
because they didn’t have jingles around the circumference. Rather, they were a small,
modest objects that a slave could afford, or make for herself.
When the Israelite women packed their meager belongings before the Exodus, were they thinking only about celebrating miracles? Unlikely. Pause for a moment and imagine: what it was like to leave Egypt with a two-and-a-half-year-old?
Before they were used to praise the Redeemer and celebrate redemption, the timbrels could entertain, soothe or, at least, distract hungry, confused and frightened babies and children. Before they were tools of liberation, the timbrels were tools of care.
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| Detail from the Second Nuremberg Haggadah, showing a woman with three children, one in a carry-cot on her head, and a man with two babies in a carrier on his back (Golinkin and Kulp, The Schechter Haggadah) |
Ethics of care were exemplified during the journey out of
Egypt not only by the Israelite women but also by the Holy Blessed One, who
cared for the hungry toddlers. In Midrash Shemot Rabbah, Rabbi Nehorei
explains: “When passing through the sea, an Israelite woman who was carrying a
crying child could reach out her hand, and pluck an apple or pomegranate out of
the sea and gives to the child.” The shiny red, sweet fruit appears when as needed.
The toddler is fed and the parents – who
apparently lacked experience in traveling with children – learned a lesson: don’t budge without taking snacks for the children.
The people of Israel marched in the mud and in the dark,
between walls of water, came to the other side and
burst into song, in two choruses.
About one it is said: “Then Moses and the Israelites sang
this song to the Eternal. They
said: I will sing to the Eternal,
for God has triumphed, yes, triumphed” (Exodus 15:1). Although
they are singing together, each one stands as an individual, using the singular “I
will sing.”
About the other chorus, we are told, “Miriam
chanted responsively with them: “Sing [plural] to the Eternal for God has triumphed, yes, triumphed”
(verse 21). Miriam leads and asks for a response from the women. They answer and
sing together using plural language.
I wish I could claim that gender segregation at the sea is a thing of the past, but this goal remains unattained, in numerous ways. It is not enough that women can now work in traditionally "male" professions. It is also important for men to take on the work of care.
More than two years of Covid-19 has highlighted how vulnerable we all are, how
dependent society is on care-givers and people in care professions, and how
quickly the appreciation for workers in health, education and food supply can
pass.
Until society appreciates and rewards fairly care-oriented people who sing their song in the plural, in a manner similar to the individualists who espouse personal achievements, we will not reach the Promised Land.
(Take a timbrel and some apples, we’ve got a long way to go.)
Kehillat Hod veHadar, 2022
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With thanks to the teachers whose Torah and writing were the inspiration that set me on the path to this drasha: Rabbis Tali Adler, Aryeh Bernstein, Shai Held, Jason Rubenstein and Prof. Laurie Zoloth (in alphabetical order) and to Rabbi David Golinkin for the illustration.
