rape – Jewish Relationships Initiative

The Palace of Redactions: A Modern Megillah

On Purim, we wear masks to hide our faces. But the Megillah is a story about taking masks off. It is about a world—much like our own in 2026—where wealth and status are the ultimate masks. Behind the silk curtains of Shushan and behind the redacted lines of the Epstein files, the same crime is hidden: the belief that some people are “taken” (lekach) for the pleasure of those who are untouchable. Today, we aren’t just celebrating a victory; we are demanding a revelation.

The Megillah is a crime report of systemic objectification. The “law of the women” (Esther 2:12, Sefaria) turned state-sponsored trafficking into a standardized procedure. This mirrors our modern “Dat” (decree): the Non-Prosecution Agreements and Non-Disclosure Agreements (NDAs) that transformed silence into a contractual obligation. When abuse is cloaked in the law, it becomes invisible.

Neither Ahasuerus nor Epstein acted alone. Ahasuerus relied on seven advisors—the enablers who legalized cruelty to protect the throne and the men in power. Today, we see this in the strategic redactions that shield the powerful while the victims’ trauma remains exposed.

A just society cannot be built on the minimum files the system is willing to release. Our call to action is to mirror Esther’s courage. She moved from being a nameless body to an active agent of justice who acted lo chadat—not according to the “rules” of the elite.

We must demand accountability from the enablers, not just from the predator. Mordecai’s challenge echoes today: “And who knows, perhaps you have attained to royal position for just such a crisis.” (Esther 4:14, Sefaria)

We are called to be the generation that finally tears down the palace walls and unmasks the truth.

May we be blessed with the eyes of Esther, to see through the redactions and masks of our own time. May we be granted the voice of Vashti, to say NO to the commodification of our bodies and our dignity. And may we be filled with the resolve of Mordecai, to understand that our positions of safety are not for our comfort but for the protection of those still trapped behind palace walls.

May the light of truth scatter the darkness of the inner court, and may we see a day when justice is a shared inheritance for all.

And He Lived- Thoughts on Parsha Vayechi

And He lived…

Vayechi is a misnomer. The chapter that opens with And He Lived is actually the final moments of Jacob’s life. Jacob is on his deathbed, surrounded by his sons. He offers frank assessments of them and blessings of a kind as he prepares to die. Indeed, our tradition looks to this chapter as the essence of the Jewish Ethical Will. It is a centerpiece for me when teaching the Ethical Legacy Will. What we bequeath as our legacy is genuinely profound; what we offer as our final thoughts, spoken and unspoken, will resonate in the hearts and minds of those we leave behind, framing their understandings of their place in the world and how they forge relationships of their own. One of the most striking examples lies outside the text. Nowhere is Jacob’s daughter Dinah to be found.

We can surmise that Dinah’s relationship with her father, Jacob, was not close. In the story of her rape, she is identified as the daughter of Leah. We never hear her voice telling the story, and Jacob’s concern for his sons’ vengeance focuses on how it will complicate things with other clans. He seems unconcerned about whether she was harmed. It is disappointing that Dinah is not at her father’s bed to say goodbye. Every son was there, and even sons not held in particular esteem were present to at least hear their father’s final words.

What is said and what is unspoken, who is in the room, and who is excluded. We learn so much by being aware of these things. We hold an extraordinary power as parents. We are exemplars of behavior and also models of misconduct. Both have a profound impact. We need to exercise caution. For what we say and to whom will last far beyond our mortality.

Did Dinah grieve for Jacob? Did she feel excluded from the intimate space, witness to his passing? Did she harbor resentment about being treated so differently from her brothers? These are only some of the questions the text begs but leaves unanswered. Some may chalk this up to Jacob’s milieu and the age in which he lived. It is unfair to judge a character from the past by current acceptability standards, particularly one with such eminence in our grounding myths.

I am disappointed, however. Jacob’s life trajectory has been extraordinary. At the start, he is a stealthy, guileful, and conniving person who grows and evolves to become rightfully someone worthy of the title Patriarch. His encounters with the Angel at Beth El and his brother Esau exhibit his remarkable growth. His reunion with his son Joseph and his treatment of Manasseh and Ephriam show that he is loving and caring. So, the time here at his bed seems a bit off. I would have thought his compassion and empathy could have extended to all his family. I expected that his harsh words for Reuven, Shimon, and Levi would have been tempered by the knowledge they already knew the consequences of their actions, and leaving them instead with something positive to remember him would serve these sons better. And, of course, there is Dinah, or more precisely, there is not.

This was a final moment to offer some reconciliation. To offer her heartfelt words that might heal wounds that likely could not do so. Some Midrashim suggested that perhaps she was not even around, but she remained in Shechem. The rabbis struggled with her story, offering several alternative ideas about what became of her. There is so much we do not know, and it makes the heart ache to wonder about the pain of being excluded or without a voice.

What we leave behind endures—both the good and the bad. Our legacy is taught in our lives and the examples we set. The Ethical Will offers a chance to leave final words behind, maybe to explain poorly understood behavior, and indeed to provide enduring words of connection. What we say and to whom will be lasting. We need to exercise care for our own sake and on behalf of the hearts of others.

And he lived…

Rabbi Info:

Rabbi David Levin is dedicated to creating a meaningful life journey with Jewish wisdom. He teaches on these subjects, including the Ethical Legacy Will, and can be found at RabbiDavidLevin.com and EthicalLegacyWill.com.

Light One Candle

Peter Yarrow’s death has us saying goodbye, but his legacy is complicated. We’ve been engaged in the conversation regarding him and his song, Light One Candle, which is the Hanukkah song embraced by many Jews as a profoundly emotional iconic expression of our tradition. At about the same time that Yarrow entered hospice, many learned that he was accused of sexual misconduct. This reignited a debate about how we might separate the artist from his creation. Can his extraordinary music and activism be decoupled from his egregious behavior, or must we sacrifice his beautiful music because of his actions?

We’ve had this difficult conversation before, and many people have weighed the pros and cons of Yarrow, Carlebach, and others who have disappointed us as human beings yet created extraordinary artistic works.

I do not have an answer to the question. Do we stop singing Yarrow’s music? It’s more than just the songs he’s written, but also the songs he’s performed, most notably as part of the famous trio Peter, Paul, and Mary. It’s a thorny question that must be addressed, but I don’t think a blanket statement suffices; that is the easy way out. Instead, each of us needs to take responsibility for considering whether or not we are comfortable and where we may draw lines that we are unwilling to cross. Perhaps it’s with some footnote when we sing a song, or maybe it’s part of a community decision about whether the music is acceptable. But the conversation needs to occur. We must confront the ugliness and beauty and figure out how to weave them in a way that might work for us and the people we serve.

So, I’m not prepared to cancel him, but I must talk about him entirely. I am unwilling to discard all of the music he brought into our lives, yet that music cannot be heard without the more discomforting voice of his actions and the ethical dilemmas they present.

It’s messy and complicated, but we must consider, deliberate, and decide for ourselves and our respective communities how best to proceed.

Bring Them Home Now

Bring Them Home

This is the mantra we need to keep repeating in every conversation. Our people must be brought home as the basis for any negotiation.

Many hostages have perished, all have endured unspeakable suffering, and we presume those still alive continue to be abused. This is the moral basis for the continued war on Hamas.

Although Hamas does not care about the killing and destruction inflicted on the Palestinian people and crudely, cynically positions the hostages and the Palestinians as bargaining chips in political maneuvering, we care about them and will continue to fight against the forces of barbarism until our people come home.

I pray for peace, and I pray for the end to the pain and suffering. Bring them home, and then we can take steps toward ending hostilities.