Parshat Shoftim (Deuteronomy 16:18-21:9) describes the laws and roles of leadership, one of which is to encourage people before battle to go home and take care of their affairs in case they die. As queer people approach death, what affairs might we want to address? In what ways do we journey home to do so?
Blessing for Torah Study
Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu la'asok b’divrei Torah. Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Sovereign of all, who hallows us with mitzvot, charging us to engage with words of Torah.
Beginning with Our Own Torah
1) Think of a moment when you felt frightened. What was running through your mind?
2) Consider how you might fill in this sentence: "Before I die, I want to ________."
3) What might be unique to queer people's experience of approaching death?
Questions to Consider
For what reasons are people encouraged to return home before battle? Why these particular reasons? Do you relate to them? How might each reason apply to queer people?
(1) When you [an Israelite warrior] take the field against your enemies, and see horses and chariots—forces larger than yours—have no fear of them, for your God ה׳, who brought you from the land of Egypt, is with you. (2) Before you join battle, the priest shall come forward and address the troops. (3) He shall say to them, “Hear, O Israel! You are about to join battle with your enemy. Let not your courage falter. Do not be in fear, or in panic, or in dread of them. (4) For it is your God ה׳ who marches with you to do battle for you against your enemy, to bring you victory.”
(5) Then the officials shall address the troops, as follows: “Is there anyone who has built a new house but has not dedicated it? Let him go back to his home, lest he die in battle and another dedicate it.
(6) Is there anyone who has planted a vineyard but has never harvested it? Let him go back to his home, lest he die in battle and another harvest it.
(7) Is there anyone who has paid the bride-price for a wife,*paid the bride-price for a wife Thereby making her his wife legally, even though she has not yet moved into his household. but who has not yet taken her [into his household]? Let him go back to his home, lest he die in battle and another take her [into his household as his wife].”
(8) The officials shall go on addressing the troops and say, “Is there anyone afraid and disheartened? Let him go back to his home, lest the courage of his comrades flag like his.”
(9) When the officials have finished addressing the troops, army commanders shall assume command of the troops. (10) When you approach a town to attack it, you shall offer it terms of peace.*offer it terms of peace Or “call on it to surrender.” (11) If it responds peaceably and lets you in, all the people present there shall serve you at forced labor. (12) If it does not surrender to you, but would join battle with you, you shall lay siege to it; (13) and when your God ה׳ delivers it into your hand, you shall put all its males to the sword. (14) You may, however, take as your booty the women, the children, the livestock, and everything in the town—all its spoil—and enjoy the use of the spoil of your enemy, which your God ה׳ gives you. (15) Thus you shall deal with all towns that lie very far from you, towns that do not belong to nations hereabout.
"A mother’s deathbed confession inspired film about fallout from old family secrets," by Robert Nagler Miller (2018)
“I’ll never forget it,” said [Jan Miller] Corran, a longtime Oakland resident who grew up in the tightknit Jewish community of Des Moines, Iowa. “It was during Passover, and my mother was dying. She said, ‘Louise was here to see me. Louise was the love of my life.’”
Corran, who is in an LGBT relationship herself, had no inkling at the time that her mother had a lesbian love affair in her 20s. After all, she had been married for many years to Corran’s father, who helped found the Iowa Jewish Home for senior care. Yet the cloak of melancholy and wistfulness that her mother often seemed to wear was now more explicable, she said.
“I was really sorry that it took so long for my mother to tell me this,” Corran said. “In a matter of 24 hours, she was in a coma. Four days later, she died. A huge secret was revealed, and then she was gone.” But obviously not forgotten.
"Balancing Life and Death: Yom Kippur Morning, 5783" by Rabbi Rachel Barenblat "Velveteen Rabbi" (2022)
Yom Kippur is sometimes called a day of rehearsal for our death. We wear white, like our burial shrouds. Many fast from food and drink, like the dead who need nothing. We recite the vidui confessional prayer, as tradition teaches us to do on our deathbeds. And we do big cheshbon ha-nefesh work — taking an accounting of our souls. Who have I been? Where did I fall short? If I’m lucky enough to keep living, what do I need to change? If I died tomorrow, what words would I want to have said – what amends would I want to have made – in order to leave this life with a clean slate?
Ending with Our Own Torah
1) Think of a moment when you wanted to share or do something vulnerable. What was happening around you? What was happening inside of you?
2) Consider how you might fill in this sentence: "Before I die, I will ________."
3) What difficult times in queer and/or Jewish history do you draw strength from?