In My Big
Fat Greek Wedding, one of my favourite films of all time, Gus Portakalos has
a schtick where he tells whoever will listen:
Give me a word, any word. And
I’ll show you how it come from the Greek.
So in one of the opening, flashback scenes, one of the girls riding
in the car says: How about ‘kimono’? Gus thinks for a moment, then he has a
flash of insight: Chimonas is the
Greek word for ‘winter.’ And what do you
wear in winter when is cold? A
Robe. Chimonas, Kimono. There you go!
A lot of words that we use in English
daily come from Greek, and I don’t think ‘kimono’ is one of them. But ‘gynecologist’ is!
Today’s Torah reading opens with a description,
not of a kimono, but of the robe worn by the High Priest as part of his vestments
for performing the duties of his office.
It was not enough that he performed his duties correctly. Since his role was seen as serving as
intermediary between God and man, he needed to do so in all his splendour.
Now I tend to chafe under any suggestion that my office, that of the
community’s rabbi, bears any resemblance to that of the priests of the ancient
Temple. It’s true that the synagogue and
what we do in it, is a substitute the Temple and its service. We see what we do here, as reaching towards
God in our time and place. But my role
is not really the equivalent of that of the priests. I’m here to teach, interpret, and perhaps
inspire. I’m not here to serve as an
intermediary between you and God. Even
so, there are certain parameters of my role that you expect me to express in
certain, specific ways. But there is
really not a unique vestment for me to wear.
Even so, most of you would think it inappropriate if I dressed casually
on the pulpit. You want to see me in all
my splendor.
As you can see, it is my custom to wear a pulpit robe topped by a narrow
tallit when I’m on the pulpit.
It isn’t an allusion to priestly vestments, but really is supposed
to resemble academic wear. This style of
dress on the Bimah became popular when Reform Judaism had its genesis in
the nineteenth century, and it remains popular and appropriate today. One mindset introduced by Reform, is adopted
from Protestant Christianity: the idea
of the clergy as being of scholarly bent. The black robe alludes to that.
I like wearing a robe, because it takes away the need for wearing a tie,
a piece of clothing I don’t especially like. Still, nobody ever told me the robe was
required. But I sense that many of you
find it comforting in a way. It sets me
apart and makes me into a symbol of sorts.
This recognizes the symbolic role I fulfill. For me in my role, a black robe with a narrow
tallit represents a way for me to stand before you in all my splendour.
My pulpit robe, unique to my office
though it is, cannot be compared to the splendor of the High Priest’s
vestments. But it is a special garment,
for a special purpose. There was a time
when most of us would have had special clothes that we wore to shule, and
nowhere else. Again, not to compare with
the splendor of the High Priest’s robes and accessories. Rather, just to mark off coming to shule as
a special activity – so special, that we would wear something that we don’t
wear any other time. Each and every Jew
would endeavor to appear in shule in all his splendour.
Over the years, the idea of a special
suit of clothes for shule gave way to just dressing nicely for shule –
wearing our ‘dressiest’ clothes. And
now, very few of us would think to wear anything that we would not necessarily
wear any other day of the week.
It really wasn’t that long ago, that
women were expected to wear dresses or ensembles with skirts to shule. And men were expected to wear a jacket and
tie. There still are congregations where
those standards hold. But in Progressive
Judaism, we seem to have largely abandoned the idea of dress codes except for perhaps
a minimal standard of covering one’s shoulders. And wearing something clean and in good
repair.
I’m a casual sort of guy and therefore not really nostalgic for the days
when it was considered ‘required’ to dress up for shule. I don’t get at all upset when you show up
for shule in your everyday clothes.
Oh, I suppose I prefer not to see a lot of bare skin in shule, and
that you come only in clothing that is clean and not torn. And that you be freshly bathed and otherwise
clean. But I’m not one to prescribe a
specific dress code, because frankly I would rather that you come – even with
bare shoulders, even without freshly-washed hair – than not come at all.
There are those who would disagree
with such sentiments. Dennis Prager, a
commentator with whom I usually agree, thinks that the tendency to dress down,
indicates a lack of respect. Not just
for religious services. Every year at
graduation time, he points out that it was once the custom to dress in your
best to attend someone’s commencement ceremony. He does not think that casual dress at times
when it was once customary to dress up, is simply an indication of an overall
casual ethic. Rather, he thinks it
indicates a lack of respect for these events that were once thought pivotal. As he points out, few people dress casually to
a wedding. Or a funeral.
Prager may have something there, and I
don’t deny the connection between dress and respect. But as I said, I prefer not to prescribe what
people wear to shule. I would
rather you come to shule in everyday wear than not come. If you were not here, today, how would I have
had an opportunity to get you thinking with my words? Or to uplift you with the words and sounds of
our prayers?
My colleague Adi Cohen, in Wellington,
NZ, made the point in his drash this week that, when we wear something
special to shule – or on Shabbat, period – we in effect create a
little sacred space for ourselves. It
helps us to ‘fence off’ the time we spend in Shabbat worship as special. And additionally, it makes us special,
because it makes us feel special.
I agree that it is important for us to
feel special when we come to shule, and to the extent that dressing in
some suit of clothes set aside for the occasion helps you to feel special, I
certainly recommend it. Or, at least,
going out of your way to look nice. But
before we sit down together to hammer out a specific dress code for any who
would enter these premises on Shabbat or any other time, I would ask
that you consider what I’ve said. Much
as I’d like to see people dress with particular care and concern to come here,
I want first and foremost that they come.
In the hierarchy of values, this stands out for me. Let’s always keep things in perspective, and
remember what is most important. Come in
all your splendour if you find it uplifting to do so. But come either way. Shabbat shalom.
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