A Privilege and A Sacred Duty

Anyone who has been to a Women of Reform Judaism (WRJ) worship service knows that the moment we hear Debbie Friedman’s Miriam’s Song, there will be a spontaneous surge of women leaping out of their seats to re-enact the moment of unbridled joy at our ancestors’ deliverance from slavery to freedom. We celebrate our people’s moment of liberation when we metaphorically dance with Miriam and the women of the Exodus as they emerge safely on the shores of the Sea.

Yet, for me, the most poignant moment of the story is a fascinating interchange between God and Moses just before the Israelites cross the Sea: “As Pharaoh drew near, the Israelites caught sight of the Egyptians... Greatly frightened, the Israelites cried out to God. And they said to Moses, ‘Was it for want of graves in Egypt that you brought us to die in the wilderness? … Moses said to the people ‘Have no fear! Stand by, and witness the deliverance which Adonai will work for you today…’ Then God said to Moses, ‘Why do you cry out to Me? Tell the Israelites to go forward. Lift up your rod and hold out your arm over the sea and split it, so that the Israelites may march into the sea on dry ground.’”

Like so many times before and since that fateful moment, the people turn to God seeking a miracle to avert a disaster or deliver them from adversity, only to be told by God to make the miracle happen for themselves. Throughout the Bible, we are reminded of our responsibility to step up and take personal responsibility for our fate. When Moses is born under Pharaoh’s death decree, he is not saved by God, but by the heroic efforts of the Egyptian midwives, Moses’s mother and sister, and Pharoah’s daughter, all of whom defy Pharaoh’s decree. The miracles that would lead to our people’s redemption from slavery only begin after Moses stands before Pharaoh to demand justice for his people. And, according to Midrash, it is only after Nahshon enters the sea, up to his neck, that the water parts for the Israelites.

Again and again in our sacred texts and in our history, we learn that the miracles of justice and freedom do not take place through divine intervention; they unfold through our own, very human, action. The exuberant celebration that Miriam and her sisters enjoy at the shore of the Sea could not have taken place had it not been for people who had the courage to hear God’s voice, the temerity to speak up and take action, and the audacity to envision a different future for their people.

These individuals lived the dictum we know so well -- pray as if everything depends upon God but act as if everything depends upon you.

I was reminded of this lesson recently when I had the opportunity to see the wonderful musical, “Suffs.” on Broadway. It was an inspiring reminder of the power of women marching together and locking arms for a common purpose, emboldened by the moral certitude that their cause was just.

In the somewhat humorous opening number, the polite women’s suffrage movement begged to be given the vote, promising not to cause too much trouble:

             Let mother vote, we raised you after all 
             Won't you thank the lady you have loved since you were small? 
             We reared you, cheered you, helped you when you fell 
             With your blessing, we could help America as well
             Let mother vote, we'll keep our country clean 
             We'll tidy up our politics until they are pristine 
             We will wash out any stain in society's domain 
             So, mister, won't you please let mother vote?
             Let mother vote, we've got the recipe 
             For a well-balanced government, fresh-baked with decency 
             Two cups of moral fiber, add a dollop of good grace 
             Mix in maternal instinct, and the world's a better place

After a hundred years of such begging, the suffragists led by Alice Paul finally grew angry enough to demonstrate and march, demanding their rights. Putting the “rage into suffrage,” those courageous crusaders persisted until they accomplished their goal. Imprisoned, beaten, and abused, they paid a steep price for their activism to secure our rights.  

WRJ women were right beside these activists demonstrating for the right to vote. The feisty founders of WRJ were suffragists and applied their incredible organizing skills to their advocacy efforts, even as they rolled up their sleeves to strengthen their own congregations and enrich Jewish life.

For 111 years WRJ has mobilized women for the important causes of the day, advancing civil liberties, the social safety net, international peace, racial equality, and justice. At their first annual convening in 1915—even before they could vote—the leaders of WRJ issued their very first resolution on behalf of immigrant rights. Ever since then, members have taken public stands on voting rights, protection for children, global poverty, mental health, LGBT rights, the environment, and so much more.

In particular, WRJ has been at the forefront of advocacy for women’s rights in North America, as well as in Israel and around the world. While our founding mothers fought for the basic right to vote, in the 20s and 30s we advocated for birth control; in the 60s and 70s we stood together for reproductive rights and equal opportunity; in the 80s and 90s we lobbied for pay equity and gun violence prevention; and since the 2000s we’ve demonstrated for an end to violence and harassment against women. Today, we continue our advocacy for access to birth control, safe abortion services, and women’s health—battles that many of us thought had been won long ago. From Suffrage to the ERA, from Take Back the Night to the Million Mom March, from the March for Women’s Lives to the most recent Women’s March, WRJ members could be found arm and arm with our sisters, raising our banners and our voices to fight for our rights.  

Indeed, WRJ has a proud legacy of “speaking truth to power.” But, my friends, now is not the time to rest on our laurels. We need to be as diligent and determined to preserve our rights as the women before us were in claiming those rights originally. Sadly, the battles for women’s rights and all the causes that WRJ women fought for in the past need to be fought anew in each generation. There continue to be wrongs to set right, glass ceilings to be shattered, walls to be breached, and new achievements to be forged.  

It all begins with exercising the franchise that our matriarchs bequeathed to us. They stared down angry mobs for the ability to go to the polls. We need only walk through the doors they opened for us to cast our ballot. Voting is a privilege and sacred duty. Not voting is an abdication of our obligation to create a just and enduring legacy for those who come after us. No divine power will step in to create the world we want for ourselves, our children and our grandchildren—it is upon us to do the work.

As we learn in Pirkei Avot, “It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you free to desist from it. (2:21)”  The powerful finale of “Suffs” echoes this message:

             I won't live to see the future that I fight for 
             Maybe no one gets to reach that perfect day 
             If the work is never over 
             Then how do you keep marching anyway? 
             Do you carry your banner as far as you can? 
             Rewriting the world with your imperfect pen? 
             'Til the next stubborn girl picks it up in a picket line 
             over and over again? 
             And you join in the chorus of centuries chanting to her
             The path will be twisted and risky and slow 
             But keep marching, keep marching 
             Will you fail or prevail? Well, you may never know 
             But keep marching, keep marching 
             'Cause your ancestors are all the proof you need 
             That progress is possible, not guaranteed 
             It will only be made if we keep marching, keep marching on
             Keep marching on
             Keep marching on

Indeed. Progress is possible, but not guaranteed. It will only be made if we keep marching… and voting. And yes, we’ll keep dancing too!