It's in the Outfit

A couple of weeks ago, I went with my children to Jewish Community Night at the Towson University Basketball game. The kids were excited to go - we’d never been to a college (or professional) basketball game before and they were looking forward to the evening. The day came sooner than we all expected, and when it was time to leave for the arena, the kids were upset that I hadn’t bought them “drip” to wear to the game. They wanted clothes: t-shirts, sweatshirts, at least a hat, to show that they were rooting for Towson. They insisted that they couldn’t properly cheer on the Tigers without it and that they would be “the only ones” there without it. Thus it happened that our first stop at the arena was to the spiritwear cart and they got their “drip.” 

Our second stop was at the bathroom so that they could change into their new clothes. The change in their demeanor was immediate and palpable. Looking around the arena, they saw hundreds of people also sporting their “drip” and no longer felt like they stuck out, like inexperienced newbies. They felt like they were part of something bigger, like they belonged. 

I’ve always loved the “drip” aspect of Parashat Tetzaveh, the unique garments described in exacting detail in Chapter 28 of Shemot. Calling it “drip” doesn’t really do it justice, of course (even though I’m a fan of using slang to discuss serious topics). The special clothing described in the parashah is the clothing of the Kohen Gadol, the High Priest. Exodus 28:2 in introducing this section, instructs: וְעָשִׂיתָ בִגְדֵי־קֹדֶשׁ לְאַהֲרֹן אָחִיךָ לְכָבוֹד וּלְתִפְאָרֶת׃ / Make sacral vestments for your brother Aaron, for dignity and adornment.

In opening up this verse for interpretation, a number of commentators explain that dignity and adornment of the Kohen Gadol’s clothes reflect both outward and inward. The elaborate clothing demonstrates the elevated status of Aharon, the Kohen Gadol and the holiness of the rituals he will perform while wearing it. Putting on his garb, he feels different, as he steps into a role that transcends his individuality. And seeing him dressed this way, the people (and perhaps also God) recognize his elevated status and the gravitas of what he is called to do. 

Parashat Tetzaveh is often read on the Shabbat before Purim, and therein lies another aspect of the transformative power of clothing. The Midrash, in Esther Rabbah (2:1), makes a connection between the “adornments” that Achashverosh would display during his 6 month long celebration and the “adornment” of the vestments of the Kohen Gadol, surmising that the king would bring out the holy garments to show off what he had stolen from the Jews after the plunder of the Temple. 

Obviously, this use of the Kohen Gadol’s clothing came from a place of malice and disregard for the High Priest’s dignity. As the midrash concludes: “Rabbi Berekhya said in the name of Rabbi Ḥelbo: The raven flaunts both what is its own and what is not its own.” Thinking that the clothing brought glory to him, Achashverosh would trot it out for his guests. In actuality, it demonstrated his cruelty and indifference. 

Fortunately, we have another, more widely known, connection between the garments of the Kohen Gadol and Purim - our custom of wearing costumes. We do this, in part, to give voice to the various ways in which identities are hidden and played with throughout the course of the book of Esther. (Side note: when visiting Orthodox neighborhoods in Israel during Purim, one can see dozens of young Kohen Gadols walking around in costume.) It’s hard to deny that wearing costumes makes us feel different from our usual selves. Perhaps we’re letting out an aspect of our personality that we usually keep to ourselves. Or taking on pieces of a character who couldn’t be more different from us. Wearing costumes on Purim gives us permission to feel different and to be different, if only for one day. 

This year, Purim is coming amid a trying time for our people and a chaotic time for our country. I know that I’m not alone in finding it challenging to whip up the expected ruaḥ for the holiday. The custom of wearing costumes can be instructive here. This year, when we put on our costumes, let us fully give in to the spirit of the day, taking a break from the seriousness of everything we’re facing, and emerging with renewed strength to continue finding our way through this time.

Shabbat shalom.



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