America has an idolatry problem. I know this sounds trite, but I think it's never been truer. I'm not talking about the ways some of us opine about American materialism – our obsession with possession, size, and the acquisition of things. Those conversations are a version of American exceptionalism. Yes, only America could give the world the Wright Brothers, and Silicon Valley but also Las Vegas and the Big Mac!
No, the idolatry I’m speaking about, the rot spreading from the highest levels of leadership, is not an expression of American exceptionalism, but American mediocrity. It’s no small thing to build the things this country has built. It’s quite ordinary to have a penchant for destruction and chaos. America has no unique capacity for demagoguery, authoritarianism, or naked greed. There are plenty of these examples around the world and throughout history. These are very old, very human stories.
No, what we've learned in the past decade really, but certainly in the past few months is that America is all too typical in our capacity to fall prey (or perhaps fall in love) with a version of populism that centers, within its inner sanctum, a man and his worship of the self. If we were playing that old game, clue, this would be the moment we pull the cards out of the envelope and realize whodunit: "Donald Trump in the Oval Office with our democracy."
The problem of Donald Trump is, fundamentally, a problem of faith. We Americans handed a man entirely unsuited for public service a weapon he could wield against many things that most of us value. We had faith in the system of free and fair elections, of institutions, of the rule of law. Trump, it's always been clear, worships not at the altar of the Constitution, the people, the higher ideals for which our country stands. What did he say at the end of his 100-minute address to Congress this week? “I believe that my life was saved that day in Butler for a very good reason. I was saved by God to Make America Great Again.”
Whether he actually believes in God I cannot say, but Trump, like all false messiahs, has perfect faith in his own (as they say) election. As I shared with you eight years ago, on the first Rosh Hashanah after his first election, “Judaism demands… that we weigh the impulses of our hearts against the needs of our communities, the teachings of our tradition and the demands of our God. That we make critical decisions with humility. That even as we respect the godliness of all humanity, we never locate ourselves at the center of the universe.” The only universe Donald Trump knows is the universe of his own ambitions, his own insecurities, his own rage. You see, we have many problems in this country, many of which began long ago, some of which began with the advent of our current leader. But principally, we have an idolatry problem.
The good news is that we Jews have been fighting idolatry for thousands of years. We know this game. This week’s parasha includes a detailed description of the priesthood, namely the kohanic garments worn by the kohein gadol. They are extravagant!
וְאֵ֨לֶּה הַבְּגָדִ֜ים אֲשֶׁ֣ר יַעֲשׂ֗וּ חֹ֤שֶׁן וְאֵפוֹד֙ וּמְעִ֔יל וּכְתֹ֥נֶת תַּשְׁבֵּ֖ץ מִצְנֶ֣פֶת וְאַבְנֵ֑ט
These are the vestments they are to make: a breastpiece, an ephod, a robe, a fringed tunic, a headdress, and a sash (Ex. 28:4).
The vestments are made of the finest materials, befitting one who plays such a public ceremonial role: gold, fine linen, precious stones. Donald Trump is surely one who cares about outward appearances. That golden escalator has become an enduring image because it represents the gilded manner with which he has always approached his business interests. President Trump, if he read his Bible, would surely appreciate the detailed descriptions of Aaron’s garments, the finery, the pomp and circumstance of worship. But let’s not forget, the verse I read has a second clause. The vestments are not for the benefit of the high priest, nor any other human.
וְעָשׂ֨וּ בִגְדֵי־קֹ֜דֶשׁ לְאַהֲרֹ֥ן אָחִ֛יךָ וּלְבָנָ֖יו לְכַהֲנוֹ־לִֽי׃
They shall make those sacral vestments for your brother Aaron and his sons, for priestly service to Me (ibid).
The whole purpose of the decadence of the ark, the Mishkan, the priestly clothing is to elevate the act of service. In Jewish law we say hiddur mitzvah, the beautification of the mitzvah. The sacred obligation of havdalah is made holier with a beautiful havdalah set. Our motivation to give tzedakah may be increased when we have a lovely tzedakah box in which to place our donations. The performance of wealth isn’t the point; the performance of sacred behavior is. The priests get the nice threads because they help the community to serve God.
But Trump and those who bend the knee to his every whim have an idolatry problem. Because the government is meant to serve the people; the president swears an oath to the Constitution. When we recount how Louis IV said (apocryphally) l’etat c’est moi, we do so because this is a cautionary tale, of executive overreach, of monarchal indulgence. Judaism was founded on the principle that there is a God of the universe and that that God is invisible, indivisible, just, and compassionate. America was founded on the principle that the people themselves form a social contract based on laws, ethics, justice and mutual accountability.
But like any system, our democracy can be abused. David Brooks wrote this week that “Trump’s narcissism is the elephantiasis of egotism. It takes the form of ‘I alone can fix it.’” What is the response to such a man? Brooks suggests that the16th president models a self-awareness unavailable to the 47th. “Historians have surmised,” he writes, “that Lincoln was conscious of his own unchecked ambition as a political threat. [He] argued that we can counter this kind of ambitious tyrant by cultivating a ‘political religion’ based on reverence for law. He also confronted and regulated his own personal ambition by cultivating the virtues that stand in contrast to it — humility, kindness, respect for the equal dignity of all human beings. Lincoln emerged, by his 50s,” says Brooks, “as a man who reconciled power and humility.’”
If Donald Trump, decades older than Lincoln would ever be, has proven how incapable he is of his forebear’s triumph over his own demons, what might we the people learn from our current situation? One lesson is that parashat Tetzavah is always one turn of the scroll from parashat Ki Tissa. This week we read about the service of the one God through an elevated priestly class. Next week, we learn how easily the system can be tilted away from divine service to the worship of something beautiful and expensive, yet profane. Next week is the story of the golden calf.
There’s much to be said about the collective failure of that moment in our people’s history, but I’m most struck by the utter failure of leadership, the cowardice Aaron demonstrates in the face of those who so quickly and completely wish to tear things down. When the people come to the newly designated High Priest and demand that he make them a god, Aaron does not even protest.
וַיֹּ֤אמֶר אֲלֵהֶם֙ אַהֲרֹ֔ן פָּֽרְקוּ֙ נִזְמֵ֣י הַזָּהָ֔ב אֲשֶׁר֙ בְּאׇזְנֵ֣י נְשֵׁיכֶ֔ם בְּנֵיכֶ֖ם וּבְנֹתֵיכֶ֑ם וְהָבִ֖יאוּ אֵלָֽי
Aaron said to them, “[You men,] take off the gold rings that are on the ears of your wives, your sons, and your daughters, and bring them to me. This he took from them and cast in a mold, and made it into a molten calf. And they exclaimed, “This is your god, O Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt!” (Ex. 32:2,4).
It’s not just that they worship a molten calf; it’s not even just that Aaron is bent so quickly to their impatience and fear. The real tragedy of this moment is that the people ascribe to this false deity their own liberation. They tell a fictional story about an imposter god. “I was saved by God,” said Donald, “to Make America Great Again.” No, he wasn’t. No, he won’t. Nor has the fantasy of this past greatness ever been true. The golden calf is a fiction built on a lie bolstered by leadership failures of the highest order. America, like the newly liberated am yisrael, has an idolatry problem.
There is one final portion we should examine though if we want to fully appreciate the multivalent methodology associated with our Jewish superpower – that of defeating idols and those who worship them. Sometimes we have battled. Other times we have mustered our wits, marshalled our connections, or leveraged our resources. At times we’ve endured, thrived even, not by ignoring the problem but also by not giving it our full attention. By not allowing our trauma to consume us. By not giving in to despair but insisting on the possibilities of love, of service, of humor and of joy.
How appropriate, then, that this Shabbat is also Shabbat Zachor, the Shabbat on which we prepare for next week’s festival of Purim. The midrash in Sifrei Devarim points out that Amalek’s real sin is that he is godless, he serves only himself. The Song of the Sea mentions שָֽׁמְע֥וּ עַמִּ֖ים, the peoples of the world heard about the miracle of keriyat yam suf (the sea’s parting). The word was out. But Amalek was stubborn: lo yirei Elohim, he still “did not fear God.” Notice the Hebrew word here is not YHVH, our specific God, but “Elohim,” which can mean any god. Amalek has a serious idolatry problem.
This is why Purim is such a magical holiday though. A true villain, a worthy inheritor of Amalek’s mantle, lays his genocidal ambitions bare. And to make matters more terrifying, he draws lots (purim). What response is presented by Purim? Purim offers a technology of survival in the most challenging of circumstances. Purim is all the things. We do fight. We do muster our wits, marshal our connections, and leverage our resources. Mordechai says to Esther:
וּמִ֣י יוֹדֵ֔עַ אִם־לְעֵ֣ת כָּזֹ֔את הִגַּ֖עַתְּ לַמַּלְכֽוּת׃
Who knows if you have ascended to the crown for such a time as this? (Esther 4:14).
But Purim is not just about Jewish cleverness and adaptation. And it’s about frivolity and joy. And it’s about compassion, generosity and care for those in need. Two of the four mitzvot which derive from the Megillah are mishloach manot (gifts we give to one another) and matanot l’evyonim (gifts for the poor). The technology of Purim is that not only of being equal to a challenge and defeating an enemy, it’s about transcending an enemy who knows only his own ambition. We meet narcissism with empathy, cruelty with tenderness, idolatry with faith in something bigger than ourselves.
America has an idolatry problem, but Jewish tradition has a solution. It’s not a silver bullet. It’s not even one thing. It’s an arsenal, a technology. But all the tools, all the components of that technology have an organizing principle, one that can be summed up in a short phrase printed on the thing, after himself, Donald Trump cares about most of all: e pluribus unum, out of the many, one. We Jews, in all our diversity and complexity, have one God. We Americans have one diverse nation which shares a set of basic norms to which we must remain loyal – especially when an autocratic ruler demands we declare fealty only to him. My friends, this moment is only novel in our American context. These are serious but prosaic challenges. The chaos and dysfunction, the graft and greed the administration has wrought, is sadly ordinary. What must be extraordinary is our response. We must unite around the work of saving our very democracy. We must pace ourselves, choose our stops, land our punches. Through it all, we must find moments of respite and, yes, joy. It won’t be easy, because the weapon Trump wields is powerful in the wrong hands.
But it is not only in his hands. It is also in ours.