...וּלְהַגִּיד גְּדֻלָּתוֹ שֶׁל הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא, שֶׁאָדָם טוֹבֵעַ כַּמָּה מַטְבְּעוֹת בְּחוֹתָם אֶחָד וְכֻלָּן דּוֹמִין זֶה לָזֶה, וּמֶלֶךְ מַלְכֵי הַמְּלָכִים הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא טָבַע כָּל אָדָם בְּחוֹתָמוֹ שֶׁל אָדָם הָרִאשׁוֹן וְאֵין אֶחָד מֵהֶן דּוֹמֶה לַחֲבֵרוֹ. לְפִיכָךְ כָּל אֶחָד וְאֶחָד חַיָּב לוֹמַר, בִּשְׁבִילִי נִבְרָא הָעוֹלָם. וְשֶׁמָּא תֹאמְרוּ מַה לָּנוּ וְלַצָּרָה הַזֹּאת, וַהֲלֹא כְבָר נֶאֱמַר (ויקרא ה) וְהוּא עֵד אוֹ רָאָה אוֹ יָדָע אִם לוֹא יַגִּיד וְגוֹ'. וְשֶׁמָּא תֹאמְרוּ מַה לָּנוּ לָחוּב בְּדָמוֹ שֶׁל זֶה, וַהֲלֹא כְבָר נֶאֱמַר (משלי יא) וּבַאֲבֹד רְשָׁעִים רִנָּה:
...And this serves to tell of the greatness of the Holy One, Blessed be He, as when a person stamps several coins with one seal, they are all similar to each other. But the supreme King of kings, the Holy One, Blessed be He, stamped all people with the seal of Adam the first man, as all of them are his offspring, and not one of them is similar to another. Therefore, since all humanity descends from one person, each and every person is obligated to say: The world was created for me, as one person can be the source of all humanity, and recognize the significance of his actions. The court says to the witnesses: And perhaps you will say: Why would we want this trouble? Perhaps it would be better not to testify at all. But be aware, as is it not already stated: “And he being a witness, whether he has seen or known, if he does not utter it, then he shall bear his iniquity” (Leviticus 5:1)? It is a transgression not to testify when one can do so. And perhaps you will say: Why would we want to be responsible for the blood of this person? But be aware, as is it not already stated: “When the wicked perish, there is song” (Proverbs 11:10)?
We Means Men
In my lifecycles class at rabbinical school, we were discussing why someone might choose a non-traditional Jewish wedding ceremony. I offered: “When the traditional betrothal blessing says ‘We,’ it doesn’t mean all Jew. It just means men.” Multiple peers were surprised. The English translation sounds clear - “Blessed are you, Hashem… who forbid to us others who are betrothed, and permitted those to whom we are married…” In Hebrew as in English, the first-person plural is gender neutral, meaning the first “us” of the blessing could include everyone. But the words for the people who are permitted and forbidden are exclusively feminine, directing, in the rabbi’s heterosexual context, the “we” of the blessing at men alone.
The fact that some of my peers were surprised does not reveal anything negative about their knowledge. In my rabbinical school, our “we,” at least on paper, includes men and women. It is natural, when reading the blessing, to assume that “we” includes yourself. (Perhaps, as someone who is non-binary, I am in a regular practice of wondering whether “we” includes me).
What this moment does reveal is something about the first-person plural in our community. When someone says “we need to look out for our fellow Jews!” you cannot know who they are talking about. Perhaps they only imagine white Jews, heterosexual Jews, Jews who intend to have kids, Zionist Jews, college-bound Jews. If I agree, without first wondering who “our fellow Jews” are, I may be implicitly excluding other Jews - especially those who are regularly excluded.
Klal Yisrael
Do you expect the people in your Jewish community to hold the value of Klal Yisrael? By this I mean that your community peers feel part of a collective deserving of intracommunal support, protection, resources, and care. As a young person, I was taught to host Jews who were new or traveling through town, to give money and time to community organizations, and to speak as if we are a connected people across region and time.
Second question - do you expect these people in your Jewish community who are also part of another identity-based community to hold a parallel value of collective responsibility to that second community? For example, I am trans, and I consider myself part of the queer community, meaning that I also feel a sense of allegiance and an urge to collective action for queer people everywhere (Adam Eli writes clearly about this in New Queer Conscience). Do you expect the Jews in your community to value Klal Yisrael, and also act collectively to support their other identity-based communities?
Now, what happens when two communities hold different visions and values, each based on a story they tell about themselves? This happens to me often. In the Jewish spaces where I was raised, we told a story of ourselves as a small people in danger of extinction. In response, I was taught a value of raising children with the knowledge to carry on traditions. This came along with an emphasis on marriage, heterosexual relationships, and biological family.
I am also part of queer spaces that tell another story about ourselves. We are excluded from biological family and socially sanctioned relationships. In response, I was taught an emphasis on chosen family, and a skepticism towards marriage and childrearing. When I got married I held these values in conflict. I was excited for my relationship to be seen by the Jewish community, and I didn’t want to mask my relationship to make it legible to heterosexual folks. When values are in conflict, there is always loss.
Expand Your We
When you talk about Jews, imagine the diversity of those included. This is an intersectional understanding of Klal Yisrael. Intersectionality, a term introduced by Dr. Kimberlé Crenshaw in 1989, describes the interconnected nature of oppressions to offer a lens for understanding the lived experience of people who are parts of multiple politicized identity groups. On one level, it’s about people who belong to multiple groups, and may feel “klal” obligations to each of them.
Intersectionality has sat in the hot seat of online Jewish discourse over the past handful of years. Though intersectionality is a complex topic worth reading about, and though it has become a politicized buzzword, the application to Klal Yisrael is straightforward. It is as I said above - who is included in your Jewish “we?” Every time one of these writers mentions the Jews or Jews, ask who they are speaking about. If you hold Klal Yisrael as a value, who do you imagine you are obligated to?
An intersectional view of Klal Yisrael will make it apparent that you cannot defend and support all Jews while supporting systems that hurt women, queer people, Black, Indigenous, and other People of Color, people with disabilities, poor people. If you support a system that hurts these people, you also support a system that hurts Jews. This fact is hidden when Klal Yisrael includes only certain Jews, when the “we” is limited. If you value Klal Yisrael, you cannot ignore any systems of marginalization, state-wielded violence, or systemic oppression. Each of these is actively harming Jews - who you are obligated to.