The Grammys and the High Priest: Tetzaveh.19

The Grammys and the High Priest

Shabbat Tetzaveh, Feb. 15, 2019

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

I have an admission to make: I don’t watch the Grammys. I don’t watch the Oscars. I don’t watch any of the countless other awards show that are such a staple of America’s entertainment industry. It isn’t that I am an elitist, though some might think otherwise; it’s that I find these shows to be over-the-top, self-congratulating ads for yet more things to buy, collect and hoard. At best, they make us feel good about the choices we make, about our own taste and how that fits in with the rest of society. At worst, they are no more than publicity stunts.

It isn’t that movies, TV, music and other media aren’t an important part of our culture. They are, and always have been. Art, in all its forms, is an expression of the human soul. It provides diversion, escape and comfort; art stimulates our imagination and inspires us;  It serves to connect people across time and distance. Art often leaves us feeling wonder and awe, and at times it moves us to tears or laughter—sometimes even both at once.

As such, art deserves recognition, as do the artists who work tirelessly to create their masterpieces.

But art and awards shows are not the same thing. More often than not, even when I used to watch, the awards shows have left me feeling empty, like eating over sweetened whipped air. Though the entertainment part may be fun—and admittedly, you can see highlights of shows you rarely get to see otherwise—what invariably the cameras and commentators focus on is the clothing people wear. 

The next day, the papers and glossies are all about the clothing. Who wore what; who glittered and who bored; who was classy, and who, outrageous.   

I suppose it’s all part of what Joni Mitchell called in one of her songs, “the star-making machinery.” That’s entertainment, an industry that in America alone is said to be worth close to 700 billion dollars. 

A dozen or so years ago, a movie came out that was a sharp satire of this industry. Starring Anne Hathaway and the incomparable Meryl Streep, The Devil Wears Prada is actually a smart and entertaining look at the behind-the-scenes activity at a Vogue-like high fashion magazine. How ironic, especially in light of this week’s Torah portion and its description of the clothing worn by the Priests at the Temple, that Meryl Streep’s character was named Miranda Priestly.  Priestly is the goddess of the fashion industry, and if maybe not actually the goddess, then at least the High Priestess.

This week’s Torah portion, Tetzaveh (Exodus 27:20—30:10)  is part of the lengthy description of the materials and designs used in the construction of the Tabernacle in the Sinai Wilderness. At first reading, it seems repetitious and even boring. Compared to the breathtaking and grandiose visions of Pharaoh’s Egypt, the parting of the Red Sea, and the giving of the Ten Commandments, the narrative in this portion is downright minimalist: So many yards of this, so many pounds of that. In explaining what God wants Moses to do, no detail is omitted, and in fact is repeated several times, just to make sure. “You got that Moses? Let’s go over it one more time.”

Lost in all these details is one thing, however: The High Priest himself. He might as well be a mannequin. The man who is about to become priest, in fact, disappears. All aspects of his prior being—his personality, his qualities, his features—are of little or no importance in the narrative. His very identity seems to be taken away from him; at the entrance to the Tabernacle he is washed in water, physically and symbolically stripped of anything he might have been prior to this moment. Then, layer by layer, garment by garment, the priestly clothing is placed upon him, redefining him in light of his new role.

In this new role, the Priest becomes part of the Sacrificial ritual. He is brought forth to the Tent of Meeting; Moses lays his hands on Aaron’s head, much as Aaron himself, as High Priest, will soon do to the animals he will be offering as sacrifice to God.

If the clothes worn by the stars at the Grammys and Oscars are meant to display their bodies, the High Priest’s garments are meant to hide his. The show isn’t about him; it’s about the role he plays—not in a staged movie or play, but rather in the very personal, very real and extremely meaningful interaction that must exist between God and the People of Israel.

For despite the beauty and riches associated with the priest’s clothing, and despite the detailed instructions given for creating these garments, the focus isn’t on the clothing. Yes, over his fancy turban the High Priest wears a gold tiara, but it isn’t the gold that matters. It’s the words engraved into it: Kodesh La-Adonai, “Holy unto God.” The priestly garments were created of the most expensive yarns and interwoven with the rarest colors. Yet the real message of this portion isn’t about the riches on display.  It isn’t about the twelve precious stones embedded in the breastplate that the High Priest wears over his robe. 

It’s about the words engraved upon them. 

Carved into the gems were the names of the twelve Tribes of Israel. One stone per tribe. No stone is bigger than its neighbor, none richer or poorer, each set in its own gold frame. As the High Priest entered the Holy of Holies, that’s what was upon his heart; that was his role: to bring a memory of the Children of Israel before God, and to bring back to them God’s message, God’s word. 

Ultimately, beyond the glitter and the gold, Tetzaveh is really about the relationship between God and Israel. Imagery is important, and as such no expense was spared in creating the High Priest’s garments. Seeing is believing, after all. Yet what really stands out in this story is not the brilliance of the gold, nor the glory of the priest himself, but rather: ordinary words; the everyday pleas and requests of the people, the prayers and petitions which it was his task and duty to bring up to God. 

In the Hollywood movie, the devil may have worn Prada. But in Tetzaveh we find the truth behind the saying that God is in the details.

Unlike the clothing worn at the Oscars and Grammys, the function of Priest’s clothing isn’t to make him special; rather, it’s about the people he represents. Like the Tent of Meeting—glorious but in fact only a tent, built to represent God’s Presence and to be home for God’s Covenant with the People of Israel—so is the Priest’s clothing only symbolic of the function played by the person who wears it: A spokesman for humanity and for God.

May we find God’s glory in every detail of our lives, and may God’s holiness be engraved not only upon our clothing, but on our hearts, in our souls and in the good work we do.  

KYR.

© 2019 by Boaz D. Heilman

Flickering Lights: Jewish Movies That Have Impacted Us

Flickering Lights: Jewish Movies That Have Impacted Us

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

February 8, 2019

Festivals have always been community-wide events meant not only for entertainment, but also for celebrating any number of the community’s traditions or cultural aspects. Jewish Americans today have music festivals, arts-and-crafts festivals, religious festivals, and of course, food festivals. These are wonderful occasions for rejoicing or reminiscing, for seeing what is new and beautiful, and for tasting a variety of fares from different countries and cultures. 

Additionally, however, Jewish festivals also serve yet another important function: to bring together Jewish people; to let them interconnect, exchange ideas and thoughts. 

In the past few years, a new kind of festival has become popular: the Jewish Film Festival.  More than other festivals, the Jewish Film Festival serves an additional function: to let us see ourselves the way others do. As we sit there, in the dark, watching and listening, we can recognize ourselves, both individually and as a community. Simultaneously, we also decipher the trends, the direction, and in general, the current state of the Jewish People.  Movies are a powerful medium.

An end-of-the-year tradition among literary pundits is to list the most important events of the almost-over-year. In a similar vein, knowing that the New Hampshire 2019 Jewish Film Festival will be coming to theaters in just a few weeks, I would like to put forth my own, very personal and very opinionated, nominations for the most influential Jewish movies that I have seen—not only in the past year, but actually over the past few years.

I will focus on movies that came out after the Holocaust, categorizing them by topic or era.

First, the Holocaust—which, along with Hiroshima—is the most cataclysmic event of the 20^thcentury, the one that changed us all forever, Jews and non-Jews alike.

The Diary of Anne Frankbrings—with both sensitivity and a growing sense of impending doom—the famous story of the young girl and her family who spent 25 months in hiding in an Amsterdam attic. Adapted from the actual diary, it was first staged as a play on Broadway. Filmed in 1959, The Diary of Anne Frankis one of the first Hollywood movies to bring the subject of the Holocaust to the large screen, and the first to win Academy Awards.

 Judgment At Nuremberg, a movie filled with star power and gripping performances, doesn’t flinch from displaying in gruesome detail some of the horrors of the Holocaust.

Yet another movie that highlights the Holocaust—but doesn’t stop there, moving instead to the creation of the modern State of Israel—is Exodus, the 1960 film that gave hope to, and inspired, an entire generation.

Since then, many more Holocaust movies have come out, most importantly Schindler’s Listand The Pianist. Among European movies, Au Revoir Les Enfantsstands out, along with Europa Europa, the harrowing and true story of a young Jewish boy who survives by pretending to be German, at one point even joining the Hitler Youth!

As the actual historical events recede into the past, and with survivors becoming fewer in number, yet more Holocaust movies have come out in the past few years, portraying not only the larger, almost incomprehensible picture, but also the smaller, more personal stories, focusing on the day-by-day choices that had to be made: choices that meant not only physical but also moral survival; the survival not only of the body, but also of the Jewish spirit. In this category I would list Life Is Beautiful, The Grey Zone, and the dark and terrifying Son of Saul.

Beyond destruction comes rebirth. The renewed Israel experience can be seen in many films. After a series of “bourekas” or ethnic comedies, Israel has recently enjoyed a sort of renaissance in the artform.  For me, however, several movies stand out from all the others: first is Sallah Shabati, the 1964 film that paints with biting humor the chaos of immigration and resettlement during the early years of the State. With humor and wisdom, the film portrays the struggles that characterized the new, turned-upside-down lives of newly-arrived immigrants. Additionally, however, Sallah Shabati also reveals the emerging class and cultural conflict between European Ashkenazi Jews, and Sephardi Jews from Arab lands. 

Among newer films from Israel, Fill the Void and Ushpizin give us insight into the life of Israel’s Orthodox and Hassidic communities; both films examine the way Jews try to maintain their beliefs and traditions while facing the various crises that life and modernity bring about. Still other movies examine the secular, social and political aspects of life in Israel today. (There is, of course, an Israel Film Festival, held annually in Jerusalem and elsewhere in Israel).

The American Jewish experience is almost as multi-faceted as its Israeli counterpart, and it can be examined through various movies. Fiddler On The Roof, The Frisco Kid, and the animated feature An American Tale offer interesting takes on Jewish immigration from Eastern Europe in the 19^th century. Hester Street, Avalon and School Ties shed light on the challenges faced by Jews as they try to integrate into American society and adapt to the American way of life. 

The films of Woody Allen offer a bitterly sarcastic view of how some Jewish Americans  see themselves. Crimes and Misdemeanors and—of course—Annie Hall are representative of this perspective, if one can get past the massive amounts of guilt and self-hate (some would even call it anti-Semitism) that fill Allen’s films.

Finally, an outstanding example of Jewish movies, unique and special in many ways, is Barbra Streisand’s Yentl. I point to this one not only because I love the gorgeous music (by Michel Legrand, who, sadly, died only a few days ago; and Streisand is at peak form in this movie! Just listen to how long she holds that last note in “Papa Can You Hear Me”). But above and beyond its artistic merits, Yentl is on my list because of the huge impact it had on American Jews, and particularly on Jewish women.  In its time, Yentl empowered thousands if not millions of American Jewish women, for the first time ever, to enter the “rooms within rooms” of Jewish learning. In this sense, Yentlhas had—and continues to have—lasting and essential influence on the American Jewish experience.

Obviously, this list is highly personal and incomplete. My apologies to all those that I left out. I am sure that there are huge gaps that can be filled by each of you. Hopefully this year’s Jewish Film Festival will add even more samples to this important new genre of Jewish culture. Who knows, some might even become classics. 

Movies free our imaginations and fantasies. They also let us see ourselves as we truly are.  But just as importantly, the Jewish Film Festival strives to gather, at least for a couple of hours, an audience that covers the entire spectrum of the wide-spread and deeply divided Jewish American community. No doubt one of the results will be a great many heated discussion, as we view ourselves through the interchangeably tragic or comic, rose-tinted or realistic, visionary or all-of-the-above, camera lens. It should be interesting.

Here is to the success of the 2019 Jewish Film Festival! Happy viewing!

© 2019 by Boaz D. Heilman