Begin by walking out from behind the reader's desk

Often, as a teenager and a younger adult, when I would speak at youth group events, or other informal functions, my peers would taunt me. The most favorite taunt was: Stand up Allison! This was funny, because as you can guess, I was already standing! By the way, I am standing.

It is ironic - maybe even Freudian- that I chose the title "Standing Up For Yourself" to speak about tonight. "Stand up for yourself" is an idiom we hear often- and means different things to many of us. To me it often meant dealing with harmless teasing about my height. It also means "to hold your own"—to not let the class bully take advantage of you. To stand up for yourself means to let your voice be heard even if it feels like no one is listening.

Standing up for myself is a lesson I have learned well. At 4'10" --since I was 11—I have had to talk louder, and jump higher than most other people jump. However, the highest hurdle I have had to face was not about my height. As I turned more and more to Judaism, I realized that Jewish tradition presented me a profound challenge:

How could I stand up for myself--if my voice as a woman was seemingly absent in Jewish tradition?

This hurdle—of feeling intimately connected with Judaism and at the same time mute—was the beginning of an intense and profound journey.

Merle Feld, a poet, expresses my journey eloquently.

We All Stood Together
My brother and I were at Sinai
He kept a journal
of what he saw
of what he heard
of what it all meant to him
I wish I had such a record
of what happened to me
It seems like every time I want to write
I can't
I'm always holding a baby
one of my own
or one of my friend
always holding a baby
so my hands are never free
to write things down
And then
As time passes
the particulars
the hard data
the who what when where why
slip away from me
and all I'm left with is
the feeling
But feelings are just sounds
The vowel barking of a mute
my brother is so sure of what he heard
after all he's got a record of it
consonant after consonant after consonant
If we remembered it together
we could recreate holy time
sparks flying

Most comforting is that I have not taken this journey alone. Other Jewish women, on similar journeys as myself, have worked to achieve a voice for our mute matriarchs

Some legends, some stories, have become symbols of strength for women. This weeks Torah portion, Bereshit, offers insight into one of these symbols.

Born out of a need to explain the two creation stories apparent in this weeks' Torah portion, Bereshit, the Midrash of Lilith has been embraced by many as a powerful female voice in the Torah.

In Bereshit, the birth of the first man and woman are written in two different ways. In the first creation story, man and woman are created at the same moment and from the same material. This woman is not named. In the other story, Eve is created from Adam's side, and she is the woman from whom humankind is issued.

These two stories present a perplexing textual issue—the first woman seems to have disappeared, while Eve remains. What happened to the first woman? The Alphabet of Ben Sira, an ancient midrash offers this explanation:

After the Holy One created the first human being, Adam, God said, "It is not good for Adam to be alone." God created a woman, also from the earth, and called her Lilith.

They quarreled immediately. She said: "I will not lie below you." He said, "I will not lie below you, but above you. For you are fit to be below me and I above you."

She responded: "We are both equal because we both come from the earth."

Neither listened to the other. When Lilith realized what was happening, she pronounced the Ineffable (secret) Name of God and flew off into the air, out of the Garden.

Adam rose in prayer before the Creator, saying, " The woman you gave me has fled from me." Immediately the Holy One sent three angels after her.

The Holy One said to Adam, "If she wants to return, all the better. If not, she will have to accept that one hundred of her children will die every day."

The angels went after her, finally locating her in the Red Sea, in the powerful waters were destined to perish the Israelites. They told her what God had said, and she did not want to return. . ."

Lilith is a voice in the wilderness: a woman who stood up for herself. In the magazine named after her, Lilith, Lilith is described as a powerful female, with a strong character and commmitment to her principles.

I see Lilith as a role model. Her voice called out to me. It was immensely powerful to find a Jewish tradition about a strong woman who stood up for what she believed. When I discovered Lilith, I found a voice in Jewish tradition—a womans' voice, a strong voice. Lilith said to me, yes—you are in the text, when the written Torah text said no—the rabbis said no — Lilith said yes.

Understanding that Lilith's essence is her strength as an independent woman, I embrace her as a symbol—a symbol of a mythical character not afraid to stand up for what she believed in. Through Lilith, I was able to replace the silence that was so empty, with an image of strength and independence,

My journey is far from complete—I still search for women in tradition to help me voice my most intimate connections with God and with tradition. But now I know that I am standing—standing tall in Jewish tradition---as I continue my journey of finding my voice in the text.

Through the discovery of Lilith, I have begun to listen more carefully to the voices in the Torah. I am finding my voice, and womens voices, carefully etched between the lines.

I share my journey with you because from it, I hope that we will be able to embrace Torah and it's lessons-together. I have a tradition that I have started since I have been here at Temple Beth-El. I have a quote of the day. It hangs just inside the door to my office. Every day, there is a new quote—some funny, some sweet, some silly. All are designed to help us think. This past week, a quote from Rabbi Ben Bag Bag appeared, reading: "Turn it over and over again, for everything is in it." Rabbi Ben Bag Bag was refering, of course, to Torah. By infusing our spirits, our journeys into Torah, it will continue to be our guide. By embracing the legends, the unheard voices, and making them our own, we are continually creating Torah—for our voices are added to the thousands of generations before, weaving a tapestry of Torah that is far greater, far deeper, than the written page.

May we continue to stand up for the Torah that is inside of each of us, and may we continue to be challenged and inspired by the voices within. . .

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