Voices of WRJ: Vayeitzei

[Rachel] said to Jacob, “Give me children, and if you don’t, I will die.” (Genesis 30:1)

So many of our matriarchs confronted infertility, or “barrenness.” After the visit by the divine messengers, Sarah conceived and gave birth to Isaac. Isaac pleaded with God because his wife was childless, after which Rebecca conceived twins. After Jacob fathered sons with Leah, Rachel’s sister, Rachel, made this demand. The Torah: A Women’s Commentary explains that “Where the male heroes seek to conquer, claim, and sanctify land, the female heroes strive to inscribe their memory on the bodies of their heirs…The matriarchs go to extreme lengths to initiate and improvise their own Covenant.”

Many of the emotions expressed here might be familiar to those dealing with infertility. There can be feelings of inadequacy, that somehow a couple is undeserving or not good enough to have children. There may be guilt or blame, that the problem lies with one partner or the other. And sadness, loneliness, anger, and even often despair factor into the picture as well.

Spanish Talmudist from the 15^th century R. Yitzchak Arama, tells us that our actions and deeds are our ultimate contributions to the world. Rachel’s demand tells us that she felt worthless because she had no children. The inability to conceive and carry a child evokes tremendous feelings of inadequacy for many women. I should know, as this was my story, too. After four miscarriages, I began to question everything about my life, my future. The uncertainty about my role/purpose as a woman nagged at me for many years. In the midst of that dark time, I offered my husband a divorce so he could “find someone who could give him children.” Then, my focus turned to my own “worth,” as I considered changing my career from something family-friendly (a teacher) to a more time-consuming one (going to law school). Ultimately, I became a mother, first through adoption, then a biological child.

Does our society question the value of women who are childless, whether by choice or by circumstance? Is there an implicit bias in the way we approach childless women? How do we embrace and engage these women in our communities, our congregations?

Think about friends in your circle – co-workers, neighbors, social contacts (remember when we used to get together in person?), and others. Are there childless women in that group? If so, are they made to feel welcome? When I was struggling with my infertility, it was difficult to interact with other young couples in my chavurah because so often the conversation turned to what “amazing” things their child was doing. I began to feel like an outsider – unable to fully connect on a subject about which I had no first-hand knowledge. Similarly, there was a couple in the group who made a conscious decision not to have children. They began to drift away from the group, deciding that they had little in common with the others.

Implicit bias is sneaky. We don’t realize that it lurks in the back of our mind – until suddenly it reveals itself. How many of us have confronted the (dreaded) question from a well-meaning friend or relative, “So, you’ve been married now for x years; when will you start having a family?” When getting together with friends socially and the subject of “what my child is doing now” generally the ice-breaker. Or showing pictures of our children/grandchildren?

Last fall, I met with a rabbi of a large, urban congregation to discuss starting a women’s group. The rabbi resisted, telling me that if women wanted to create a group, they should go ahead and do it – but that she didn’t think there was enough demand. Further, she pointed out that they had several groups already and that a single-gender group would never gain traction. After all, there was ample programming for families with children of all age groups, older congregants, and groups with particular interests (e.g., Israel, cultural arts). The message was clear: we have plenty of programming – they need to figure out where they fit in. Programming is one thing; creating an atmosphere of inclusion is another different approach.

Ultimately, this goes back to R. Yitzchak Arama’s assertion that our actions and our deeds are our contributions to the world. Raising a child is but one way to contribute. Supporting organizations that feed hungry children, tutor at-risk children, or provide medical care are acts that also positively impact the next generation. Engaging and valuing a childless woman's role in our communities is another way to honor our matriarch Rachel. And really, isn’t that the memory she wished for her children?