Parashat Toldot, 5767, Rabbi Dan Kohn
Parashat Toldot
November 25, 2006 / 4 Kislev 5767
Adoption Shabbat at Netivot Shalom
Rabbi Daniel Kohn
About three years ago, I took a short walk to the post office as Nava toddled alongside of me. When we got there, I stepped three or four feet away from her to mail my letters and when I looked back, a well-meaning woman had stooped down and was asking Nava if she was lost--could she see her mother or father? Nava didn’t say a word but looked straight at me while this woman was scanning the all-white crowd around us, desperately searching for someone who could possibly resemble Nava’s mother or father. After a few minutes during which I cycled through about a million different reactions as I watched this woman grow more frantic thinking that Nava was hopelessly lost or abandoned, I stepped forward and introduced myself as her father. The facial expressions I saw flashing across this woman’s face briefly revealed her embarrassment, recognition of her own prejudice and assumptions: relief that Nava hadn’t been abandoned, and finally apologetic sheepishness. Because Nava didn’t look like me, no one knew that she was my daughter, that she was the legitimate recipient of her birthright as my daughter.
Another brief story: While vacationing in Mexico some years ago at a rather fancy resort (that my in-laws paid for!) that catered to mostly white, affluent Americans, we noticed only one African-American family there on vacation. After briefly glimpsing one another for a few days, the mother of this family finally walked straight up to me and Deborah, who was holding Nava in her arms, and without preamble or introduction, directly asked us, “What are you doing about her hair?” In case you are unfamiliar with African-American culture, the care and presentation of a girl and woman’s hair is a deeply loaded and important component of racial pride and identity. Because we did not look like Nava, no one knew that we were her legitimate parents, and other African-Americans doubted whether we had the capacity to bequeath to Nava her legitimate birthright as an African-American woman.
This Shabbat’s Torah portion is Toldot, which literally means “generations.” It tells the story of how Jacob stole his brother Esav’s birthright from their father, Isaac, and the tragic consequences that follow. In Hebrew, birthright is called “be’chorah,” or literally, the right of the “firstborn.” In this Torah portion, however, it is not entirely clear what the birthright is that Jacob craves so much. Is it literally, the legal status of being considered the first-born, in which case Jacob would then be eligible to claim the right of primogeniture, or the right to inherit his father’s physical holdings? Or is it something else, something non-worldly, something spiritual which connects our generations, one to the other?
While Jacob might have stolen his birthright, which the Torah seems to accept as being a valid--if not legitimate--means of acquisition, I struggle with whether I—or any adoptive parent--can truly willingly and voluntarily confer the birthright of Jewish legitimacy and acceptance to my children. Regardless of the fact that no casual observer would ever mistake my children as being my biological offspring, I worry about whether they will find acceptance in the wider Jewish world, beyond the walls of Netivot Shalom, or Berkeley, or even the San Francisco Bay area. Will my children find true acceptance in the Jewish community because they are adopted? Can Judaism be their true birthright?
Perhaps one of the first things that many American Jews think when they hear the word birthright, is the now famous all-expenses paid trip to Israel for young American Jews called “Birthright Israel.” But I wonder if that term will apply to my children, or for that matter, any Jew-by-Choice? Is there a difference between an adopted birthright and a biological birthright? And will this apply to my children’s sense of themselves as Jews as they grow up?
My children—indeed, all adopted Jewish children—are Jews by Choice. But unlike adult Jews by Choice who made their decision to become Jews as adults, fully cognizant of the benefits—and challenges—that they would face, my children, and all adopted Jewish children, are not Jews by Choice—at least, not Jews by their own choice.
We brought Nava to the Mikvah when she was 8 months old and I have a photograph of her that was taken the second we brought her up, out of the water after being fully immersed. The shock and surprise and momentary fright that is clearly written on her little face evoke both empathy and mirth. Clearly, becoming Jewish was quite a shock to Nava. Is this how her birthright of being Jewish, which we want her to associate with joy and spiritual fulfillment, should have begun?
And my son, Reuven, was recently circumcised at Oakland Children’s Hospital this last September in a painful surgical procedure performed by a pediatric urologist under full anesthesia. I can assure you that the following two weeks were by no means all joyful or even pleasant every time we changed his diaper. Both Debby and I seriously questioned our commitment to Jewish life and rituals as we wept with our son every time he cried in pain. Is this what Ishmael, or even Abraham experienced, when they were circumcised as adults in the Torah? Was this their primary association with their birthright of being one of God’s chosen as they traumatically adopted their new Brit, or covenant, with God?
My personal experiences and deep concerns about the acceptance of my children into the Jewish community have led me to question whether adoption is recognized as a Jewishly legitimate path to receive the birthright of being Jewish? Are adopted children true heirs to the Brit with God?
Adoption as an informal arrangement is prevalent in many stories in the Tanakh, or Hebrew Bible. The most famous example is Moshe being “adopted” by Batya, the daughter of Pharaoh and raised in the royal palace. Although it should be noted that not once does the Torah convey any sense of formal or legal legitimacy to this surrogate parenthood. Perhaps less obvious are the cases of Sarah, Rachel, and Leah—did you know that they were adoptive mothers? Sarah “adopted” Ishmael, the daughter of her handmaiden Hagar, but primarily as a means to induce her own fertility. And when she achieved that, both Ishmael and Hagar were banished.
No so with Rachel and Leah, the wives of Jacob. Rachel’s handmaiden, Bilah, gave birth to Dan and Naftali in her effort to bear children. However, in contrast to Sarah and Ishmael, these children were considered fully and equally among the other children of Jacob, even if Rachel was not their biological mother. The same was true with Zilpah, the handmaiden of Leah, who gave birth to Gad and Asher. Together with their biological children of Rachel and Leah, the children of their handmaidens were legitimately counted as founders of tribes in Israel.
Later on, towards the end of Jacob’s life, during his final years in Egypt, he adopts his grandchildren, Ephraim and Manashe—Joseph’s sons—as his own, saying, “Ephraim and Manashe shall be my sons no less than Reuven and Shimon” (Genesis 48:5) and this is the reason that these sons were also the founders of their own Israelite tribes, just like Joseph’s earlier sons.
I could go on and on with more examples of informal adoption in the Tanakh, but what is important to note is the absence of any formal legal procedure for adopting children. In fact, in all of Halakha, there is not a single law devoted to the adoption of children even though the Torah is replete with many informal examples.
It was precisely because of this gaping lacuna in traditional Jewish law that the Israeli Knesset had to break new ground and establish modern legal procedures for adoption in the state of Israel. The “Adoption of Children” act was passed by the Knesset in 1960, and it was so new that the members of the Knesset and Hebrew language lexigraphical council had to invent a new Hebrew word to even describe adoption. To adopt a child in Hebrew is called “Ee-mutz” or “L’ametz,” derived from the word meaning “to strengthen.”
However, what I find sad is that despite the fact that although I am a Kohen, my children are not nor will they ever share my biological, hereditary status of descent from Moshe and Aaron. In fact, I was worried that I would not even be able to include my name or Deborah’s name in their full, traditional Hebrew names since they are converts to Judaism. In other words, would we ever be able to call our children their names, followed by the appellations, “the son, or daughter of Daniel and Deborah”?
There is absolutely nothing wrong with being called the son or daughter of “Avraham Avinu,” Abraham our father, and “Sarah Eemaynu,” Sarah our mother, as all adult Jews by Choice are called because Abraham and Sarah are considered their spiritual parents as Jews. However, my children have been legally separated and orphaned from their biological parents, and I did not want to further distance them from me and my wife and our family by not even being able to include our names in their names!
But I was greatly reassured when I learned about a Teshuvah, a traditional legal responsa, written by no less than the late Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, one of the last great Halakhic scholars to be universally admired and accepted by nearly all branches of the traditional Jewish community. In responding to the question as to how an adopted child who is converted to Judaism should be called, he asserts that the child can be called by the names of the adopted mother and father! So our oldest daughter can be called, “Nava Avigail, bat HaRav Daniel HaKohen U’Devorah Leah.” Rav Feinstein bases his opinion on a fascinating passage in the Talmud that proves his point.
In Tractate Sanhedrin 19b, the Talmudic rabbis argue that even Moshe in the Torah should be referred to, “Moshe, the son of Batya”—the midrashic name ascribed to the daughter of Pharaoh. In the course of the Talmudic argument, Rabbi Yochnanon asserts, “Anyone who teaches the son of his fellow person Torah, scripture considers him as if he gave birth to him. How do we know this? Because the Torah says, “These are the generations of Aaron and Moshe” (Numbers 3:1) But immediately following this, it says, “These are the sons of Aaron…” So why are they called both the sons of Aaron and Moshe earlier? Because while Aaron bore them, Moshe taught them Torah—therefore, they are called by Moshe’s name!”
In other words, according to the Talmud, and Reb Feinstein, a child’s spiritual parents—not the biological parents—give the child his or her name and identity. The real parents are those who provide a home and raise a child. The real parents are the ones who physically sustain that child AND provide for their spiritual and emotional upbringing.
Deborah and I suffered terribly in our emotional lives during six years of escalating infertility treatments that became more invasive, painful, and expensive. But we ultimately learned about Nava on the first day of Hanukkah almost five years ago, and we came to realize that Adonai had another path to parenthood for us than we had originally planned. Later on, it was by choice that we brought Reuven and Kalanit into our family as foster children and we hope to finalize their adoption this Winter.
But will we, as a family, ever truly fit into the Jewish community? Even though we are quite literally taking pains to ensure a completely halakhic process of bringing our children into the midst of Am Yisrael, I can look around our synagogue and see that our family doesn’t completely fit in. Of course, the lives and families of many people here have been blessed by adoption, and even interracial adoption—but I can’t pretend that none of us don’t see the differences. As a result, I wonder if my family will ever be able to find any place that will be truly home to us. We exist in the gray, border-line areas between so many different communities and sub-communities, both in America and in the world-wide Jewish community.
But soon enough, when we finalize the adoption of Kalanit and Reuven, we will take them to the mikvah. We will perform the procedure of Hatafat Dam Brit and ritually complete Reuven’s Brit Milah. Eventually, we will celebrate as our children become B’nai Mitzvah when, according to the Jewish tradition, they will fully and completely accept their Jewish identity we that provisionally supplied to them as children. And I believe that my children—and all adopted children in the Jewish community--are true heirs to the birthright of Jewish identity because of what the Torah teaches in this very parasha of Toldot.
Years ago, it was pointed out to me that although Jacob deceived his father, Isaac, and managed to make himself the recipient of a blessing intended for his older brother, Esav—it was actually Jacob who was the one that was deceived. The true birthright, or “be’chorah” intended for Jacob was not one that he could cheat from his brother Esav or steal from his father Isaac. It was a destiny that had been intended for him all along. Jacob’s true birthright was not primogeniture, the right to inherit his father’s physical property. Rather, Jacob’s true “be’chorah” was to inherit the divine promise that God made to Abraham, Isaac, and ultimately to Jacob—that they would be the founders of a great nation and that they, and their offspring, would establish and develop a unique, covenantal relationship with Adonai throughout the Toldot, or generations, of Jewish history.
This story from the Torah is actually a radical rebellion against the backdrop of ancient Mesopotamian civilization that enshrined the tradition of primogeniture. The fact that Jacob, who was not born into this position as the first born, should nonetheless be the recipient of the far greater destiny of inheriting the divine promise was a direct challenge to the practice of primogeniture. It was also a political and theological statement about the ultimate spiritual supremacy of the people of Israel, who were by no means the oldest or largest of the ancient peoples of the fertile crescent, for it implied that the nation of Israel—despite not being “born” into a role of natural dominance in the region—still was a unique people, favored by God and singled out for special blessings.
I find this interpretation of our Torah portion compelling because it demonstrates that Jacob was the inheritor of the divine promise despite the fact that he was not the biologically first-born son. Jacob’s status as the inheritor of the divine promise was not dependent upon his birth-order; rather, it was based on the conscious choice of his father to bequeath him this unique heritage.
And similarly, my children—like all adopted kids—are the authentic, legitimate inheritors of this on-going divine promise no less than Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—and us. Like Jacob, their birthright is not dependent upon birth or even biological bonds. It is based on the bonds of our love and spiritual kinship.
When I bless my bless my children every Friday night, and pray that my girls will “be like Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah”—from now on, I will keep in mind that even our matriarchs were also adoptive parents. And when I bless my son and pray that he will “be like Ephraim and Manashe,” I will keep in mind that they were adopted children by their grandfather, Jacob. And as my children, they are the inheritors of the legitimate birthright of the Jewish people, and I fervently pray that God will grant them the greatest gift of all—the gift of shalom—peace, love, wholeness, and acceptance.
Shabbat Shalom.