The Red Tent, the Holiness of Bodies, and Family Connection

“The two of them shared a blanket during Bilhah’s pregnancy. The barren woman felt the slow swell of her sister’s belly and the gathering heaviness of her breasts…As the child grew in Bilhah, draining her of color and energy, Rachel bloomed. She grew soft and round along with Bilhah, and the hollows that sadness had carved in her cheeks had disappeared. She laughed and played with her nephews and the other children of the camp. She baked bread and made cheese without being asked. She lived so deeply inside Bilhah’s pregnancy that during the ninth month, Rachel’s ankles grew swollen, and when the time came for the baby to enter the world, Rachel called Inna to be the midwife so that she alone could stand behind Bilhah during her travail and hold her and suffer with her.”

This is an excerpt from Anita Diamant’s The Red Tent, a book I have heard rave reviews about during the 15 years since it was published but am just now getting around to reading. I am so engrossed in it, and must even remind myself to put it down during work hours. If you’re unfamiliar with it, it’s a beautifully detailed and imagery-filled adaptation of the stories of Jacob and his wives and sons as told in the book of Genesis. The red tent is a symbol for the place where the cycle of life is most fully present: in it occur the experiences (and accompanying rituals) of menstruation, conception, childbirth, and death.  One reason that I find it to be a particularly warm story is because of the connection that bodily experiences creates between the members of this large family, especially among the women. The women care for another, knowing just what spices and herbs to use during which events; they practice animal husbandry and prepare meals of sustenance for their children and husbands; they experience the pleasures of sexuality, and exhibit grace in balancing one husband among four wives. Leah, Jacob’s first wife, experiences the joy of bearing many children. Rachel, who is known for her beauty and for the way she steals Jacob’s heart, endures years of hardship while being barren. Even when she decides to have another wife of Jacob bear a child in her place (legally making it her child) which the excerpt describes, Rachel fully takes on the pregnancy with joyfulness. She eventually undergoes painful labor to give birth to Joseph. 

I find that this book paints the experiences of the female life in a way could be easily overlooked in Western society to which I belong. I’m still searching for the words to explain why I think this, but there is a richness in this novel that enhances or makes beautiful the facets of life, particularly of sexuality, that could be easy to miss in the busyness and compartmentalization of life in the United States and much of the industrialized world.  As I read and experience the ability of the women of this story to participate in the cycles of life and death in very tangible ways, I feel as though I am connected to something bigger than myself and my individual world—I am partaking in generational wisdom passed down for centuries. I feel connected to the Genesis story in a way I never have before.

Linking my story with this story reminds me of all of the women (and my dad, because I can’t leave him out!) who have shared and passed down their wisdom to me, and with whom I share the joys and struggles of womanhood. These are the women (and man) who have created me, changed my diapers, cleaned up my vomit, dried my tears, bandaged my wounds, fed me, embraced me, and nourished me. I am blessed with…

…the nurturing, loyal and playful spirit of my father, who will laugh with me, show me the wonder of the world, and help me through times of confusion as I grown up.

…the passion, conviction and compassion of a mother so on fire for God, who will hold me when I cry and create spaces for us to share our souls together.

…the gentleness, strength, and sensitivity of my maternal grandmother, Ammie, who will accompany me physically, emotionally and spiritually through all of my life’s journeys, and will encourage me in the goals I undertake.

…the kindness, vulnerability, and humility of my great-aunt, Peggy, who will connect me to my ancestry through her vivid stories, talk with me about anything for hours on endf, and inspire me with her steadfastness.

…the ambition, generosity, and honesty of my paternal grandmother, Linda, who will provide her unwavering support of my ambitions and challenge me to not be afraid to own who I am.

…the energy, affirmation, and playfulness of my aunt Mary Kaye, who will listen to my stories, be silly with me, and share her love of life with me.

…the heart, the determination, and the giving spirit of my aunt Yvonne, who will inspire me to be a better person, teach me what it means to be a devoted mother, and be an advocate for my passions.

…the wisdom, carefree spirit, and joyfulness of my cousin Savannah, who will create idealistic worlds with me, assure me of my abilities, and amaze me with her curiosity about the world.

…the mild manner, eagerness, and laughter of my cousin Sarah, who will show her world of books and princesses to me, make me smile, and draw me back to my childhood days.

…the strength, power, inquisitiveness, and sense of humor of my cousins Lydia and Alicia, Morgan, and Mara who will support me and care for me even when we can’t see each other often.

I could write books and books about these women and the connection between all of us (perhaps I will!), and I am so immensely grateful for all they teach me. erience the pleasures