Standing Up

My grandfather was a very integral part of the Queens Bucharian community. My grandparents moved to Queens from Israel 39 years ago, and basically helped set up the community. Everyone knew them. In general, the Bucharian community is very orthodox- extreme right wing, fire-and-brimstone type. My grandparents came from Israel as very traditional people, but not orthodox. After my grandfather's mother died, he was hozer b'teshuva, returned to the faith and got a little caught up in the rhetoric he heard from the pulpit.

It's with this introduction that I tell you the story of my grandfather's funeral. The rabbi who officiated was someone I didn't know, but apparently someone who knew my grandfather well. He began the ceremony speaking in Hebrew, which was Strike Number 1, since many of the people that came from my mom's side to pay their respects were not Hebrew speakers. Someone then recited a few Psalms and then it was time for eulogies. Two very well-known rabbis spoke first- the chief Bucharian rabbi in the US knew my grandfather from when they were still living in Israel, and the rabbi of my grandfather's synagogue spoke of how much my grandfather did to build the community and the synagogues. Then a few other men spoke- one spoke in Bucharian (which is a mix of Farsi and Hebrew) and only a handful of people understood him. Finally a couple of other rabbis spoke in English. Everyone, for the most part, spoke very nicely.

Then came Strike Number 2. The officiating rabbi took to the microphone one more time. He started telling two stories (in Hebrew) of how he got two different people to hozer b'teshuva- got them to return to the faith and lead an orthodox life. This got him to the fire and brimstone part- he began to beseech to everyone in the room to become religious- keep Shabbat, keeper kosher, etc. etc. I turn to my sister and ask her what this has to do with our grandfather? She just shook her head. His little speech went on for about 10 minutes. Once he was finally done, he thanked everyone for coming and gave the address for where the family would be sitting shiva. I looked over and my mom, wondering what was going on- my cousin and I had prepared eulogies and this guy was getting ready to leave! So she told him that there were still two more to go. And then Strike Three went like this:

Rabbi: "Mi od yesh?" ("Who else is there?")
Mom: "shnei nechadim." ("Two grandchildren.")
Rabbi: "ok, mi?" ("Ok, who?")
Mom: "Ronnie v'Elanit." ("Ronnie and Elanit.")
Rabbi: "LO! Nashim lo m'dabrot po!" ("NO! Women do not speak here!")

Then I immediately pipe in:
Me: "Ani m'daberet bishvil ha Sabba sheli!" ("I am speaking for my grandfather!")
Rabbi: "LO!" ("NO!")
Me: "Ken!" ("YES!)
Rabbi: "Az ani holech!" ("Then I am leaving!")
Me: "Az telech!" ("So go!)

And he stormed out.

I asked my cousin to speak first, if only to give myself some time to calm down. I was so taken aback by the entire conversation, my hands were literally shaking. Who was this man to tell me that I couldn't give a eulogy for my grandfather? I know enough Jewish law to know how utterly ridiculous he was, and there was no way I was going to allow him to stand there and tell me what women can and cannot do. Argh!

I can't remember any incident such as this which forced me to explicitly stand up for my rights as a human being. For the most part, I am at peace with the way Modern Orthodox Judaism has adapted along with the changing modern times, and most of the battles associated with a woman's role in Judaism I had to face were internal- if I would cover my hair, wear pants, etc. This was something totally new.

The Rabbi hasn't been seen since; I have no idea if he will actually show up to my grandmother's home to pay his respects, but if he does, I will not be moved to the other side of the room and I will not hide from him nor anyone else who would want to shove me into a corner. (I had half a mind to start my eulogy with the line "Nobody puts Baby in the corner!) I certainly don't believe that's what my Sabba would have wanted.