By Amanda Chorowski and Rabbi Corey Helfand

Amanda is the Executive Director of JCADA. Rabbi Corey Helfand is the Senior Rabbi at Ohr Kodesh Congregation

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Amanda: About six weeks ago, JCADA celebrated our 25th anniversary here at Ohr Kodesh with a gallery of art work and poetry created by survivors of intimate partner violence, speeches honoring the work we have done and promoting the work we have ahead, and a key note by New York Op-Ed Columnist and AU Professor, Rachel Louise Snyder, who wrote the groundbreaking book on domestic violence “No Visible Bruises,” with the subheading, “What we don’t know about domestic violence can kill us.”

I would add what we don’t hear can kill us as well.

Corey: If you don’t listen carefully, you can practically miss Genesis chapter 34 and the story of Dina. It’s often overlooked in Parashat Vayishlach because it’s more interesting to focus on Jacob’s wrestling with the angel or his reunion with his brother Esav. Not to mention it’s always easier to turn away from stories of sexual violence. To not pay attention. To not listen to stories of pain and trauma.

Aside from learning that Dinah was born in last week’s Torah portion, Jacob and Leah’s only mentioned daughter’s entire story is told in just three, well really two verses. They are worth retelling and hearing.

וַתֵּצֵ֤א דִינָה֙ בַּת־לֵאָ֔ה אֲשֶׁ֥ר יָלְדָ֖ה לְיַעֲקֹ֑ב לִרְא֖וֹת בִּבְנ֥וֹת הָאָֽרֶץ

Now Dinah, the daughter of Leah, went out to visit the women of the land.” 

וַיַּ֨רְא אֹתָ֜הּ שְׁכֶ֧ם בֶּן־חֲמ֛וֹר הַֽחִוִּ֖י נְשִׂ֣יא הָאָ֑רֶץ וַיִּקַּ֥ח אֹתָ֛הּ וַיִּשְׁכַּ֥ב אֹתָ֖הּ וַיְעַנֶּֽהָ

Shecehem, son of Hamor the Hivite, chief of the country, saw her, and took her and lay with her by force and disgraced her. 

וַתִּדְבַּ֣ק נַפְשׁ֔וֹ בְּדִינָ֖ה בַּֽת־יַעֲקֹ֑ב וַיֶּֽאֱהַב֙ אֶת־הַֽנַּעֲרָ֔ וַיְדַבֵּ֖ר עַל־לֵ֥ב הַֽנַּעֲרָֽ

Being strongly drawn to Dinah, daughter of Jacob, and in love with the maiden, he spoke to the maiden tenderly (Genesis 34:1-3). 

Amanda: It’s a story of violence and silence. Dinah’s name is remembered, but her voice is absent. The three lines are about what’s done to her without any space to hear from her directly. Her pain is real, yet the Torah gives us no words from her lips. This silence is not just ancient—it echoes through history and into our own time.

Amanda: Rashi (Rashi on Genesis 34:1 quoting Bereshit Rabbah 80:1cover-up), quoting several midrashim from Bereshit Rabbah, notices that when we first meet Dina, she’s called the daughter of Leah. Rashi typecasts Dina as a Yatzanit, one who likes to go out, just like her mother. She’s a troublemaker like her mother Leah went out and seduced Jacob with her sister, Rachel’s mandrakes. Ostensibly, not only is Dina silent, the rabbis seem quick to blame Dina for what happened to her. She somehow, “had it coming.” Verses later, after the rape, she’s called the daughter of Jacob. Why? Because it’s no longer about Dina. It’s about how to protect Jacob’s status in society. The need for a coverup or Dina marrying her rapist makes it appear as if nothing happened. It’s like it was swept under the rug. 

And here is the truth: silence does not mean consent. Silence does not mean peace. Silence does not mean blame the victim. Silence means pain unheard. And when we fail to listen, we fail humanity.

Corey: In the magnificent Dirshuni: Contemporary Women’s Midrash, Ayala Tzruyah*, a beloved Israeli educator explains that the reason that when Dinah went out to see the daughters of the land, it was because of her extreme loneliness. She had no spouse or children and her brothers couldn’t even look at her kindly or speak a kind word to her. Dinah was seeking love, companionship, support and a space where she could be herself. Someone to see her. Someone to listen to her. Her midrash suggests that after all the events with Shechem, not only did no one listen to her, no one spoke to her. Silenced and cast aside. 

Now, centuries later, women victimized by Jeffrey Epstein continue to face the same crushing silence. Silenced by fear, by power, by systems that failed them. Their voices were buried under wealth and influence, just as Dina’s was buried under patriarchal narratives. As Rachel Louise Snyder reminds us, in her essay, “The Real Epstein Cover-Up” (NYT, 2025), the real cover-up was not only Epstein’s crimes—it was the way powerful institutions bent over backward to protect him, proving how far society will go to maintain the power of men at the expense of women’s bodies. When voices are suppressed, injustice multiplies. Silence is not neutral—it is a weapon.

Earlier this week, Bible Scholar Judy Klitsner* shared that so often the stories of assault and moral descent in the bible, come with the silencing of the victims by the other figures in the stories. Almost immediately after the assault, Dina’s brothers Levi and Shimon try to make a deal with Shechem and Hamor that preserves Jacob’s dignity while wiping everything under the rug. That is, perhaps, why Dina is now referred to as the Daughter of Jacob. The men in the story are zooming out into a bigger context, making it a societal, political issue, rather than a human one. It becomes about the men and their power and no longer about the victims who are being assaulted, raped and/or trafficked. These other figures become in part, complicit on the one hand, and worse, perpetuate the silencing of the real victims. 

Amanda: But our tradition teaches and compels us otherwise. Not to blame or to silence or to forget.

Justice begins with listening to learn.

Justice begins with learning to believe.

Justice begins with believing to validate.

The women who spoke out against Epstein shattered that silence. They risked everything—reputation, safety, even their own sense of security—to speak truth to power. Perhaps this is a direct referendum on how things were handled in antiquity. As survivor Anouska De Georgiou, said: “The days of sweeping this under the rug are over. We, the survivors, say ‘no more.’ I’m no longer weak, I am no longer powerless, and I’m no longer alone.” That courage reminds us that speaking out is not just personal healing; it is societal transformation. It is rewriting the story so that no one remains voiceless.

We cannot rewrite Dinah’s story. But we can write a different ending for today. We can choose to listen. We can choose to believe. We can choose to act. Because every voice matters. Every story deserves to be heard. And silence—silence is not an option. We can take a moment to use our voices, as Ariele Mortkowitz from SVIVAH suggests, and answer the question, if you met Dinah today, what blessing would you give her?

Corey: Let us honor Dinah and Epstein’s victims by listening to and affirming the stories, experiences, and traumas of the victims. By supporting agencies like JCADA, we can take an important step toward honoring every survivor. At JCADA we provide free trauma counseling and case management to survivors of intimate partner violence, as well as education to adults and teens about healthy relationships. Let’s honor Dinah and Epstein’s victims by investing in training for our staff, our lay and professional leadership, and all of our community so that we can build and maintain safe spaces for everyone in our community. 

Amanda: This d’var Torah is part of our Purple Shabbat series, bringing JCADA into 21 synagogues around the region and with this final day, we have reached almost 2000 people from the bimah this fall. I am proud to be a part of a community that hears, truly listens, to every cry and answers with justice, compassion, love and courage. And so may it be, now and always. 

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• Ayala Tzruyah, 1964-2016. Member of Kvutzat Yavneh, prominent Israeli educator. MA in Talmud from Bar-Ilan, book editor and author(novels and academic works.

*Judy Klitsner, Shiur through Maharat on “Corruption and Power and Power of Safeguarding: Biblical Models,” Project Dina, Webinar, December 3, 2025