I was six years old when I went thrift shopping for the perfect red button-up sweater to play the role of Annie in my after school production. I slipped it on over my oversized dress, braided my hair, hoping it would hold a curl, and eagerly smothered myself in chalk and dirt. In that moment, I wasn’t just playing dress-up— putting on that costume made me feel more like myself than ever before. 

Throughout my life, I played many characters in musicals, and time after time, I experienced the same thing: I felt most like myself when I was in costume.

Why? Because the costume and makeup gave me permission to express my inner self—to step beyond my everyday persona and explore different aspects of who I was, what I wanted to feel, and how I hoped to exist in the world.

Ironically, the mechanism of costume and makeup allowed me to truly feel free. Not exposing myself in my regular clothing and demeanor allowed me to tap into something deeper, to engage with emotions and experiences I might not have otherwise explored, and that deeper emotion translated into me connecting more deeply with those in the audience.

The costume was a tool to better connect with myself and with the people around me.

In this week’s parsha, we get what Aviva Zornberg calls the second revelation. Where God reveals only a small part of Godself to Moses. In the last revelation in parashat Yitro, God exposed parts of God’s self in full force, causing the Israelites to tremble- for many, revelation was too much to bear. But in this second revelation, in Parashat Ki Tissa, Moses experiences a more intimate encounter with God- a moment where God’s hiddenness paradoxically allows for an even deeper revelation.

So what did God reveal? Our TorahRefers to the first five books of the Hebrew Bible, the Tanakh, also called the Five Books of Moses, Pentateuch or the Hebrew equivalent, Humash. This is also called the Written Torah. The term may also refer to teachings that expound on Jewish tradition. Read more says that God reveals God’s back, but the commentators explain that it was not necessarily God’s literal back. Chizkuni says that what Moses saw was an echo of God. Or Hachayim interprets that God surrounded Godself with a curtain or screen in order to diffuse the divine light. 

The echo, the curtain, the screen- These were God’s costumes. The full force version was too much for human beings to comprehend. But what were God’s costumes revealing? What did God really want to express?

Aviva Zornberg suggests that perhaps what God is doing in this moment is actually teaching Moses how to pray.

She says, “The vision of God as He teaches Moses the art of prayer is of One praying, enveloped in tallit. God, that is, models prayer to God: “I shall call on the name of God in your presence” (Exodus 33:19) Moses thus sees the enveloped figure of God- he does not see His face- and hears the voice of human prayer: the voice out of thin silence.”

Even God needs to be enveloped  in a garb of holiness in order to reveal God’s deeper self.

Rashi offers a perspective similar to Aviva Zornberg’s. He says that God reveals God’s back in order to reveal the t’fillin knot that rests on the back of the head. 

God is being a model of how wearing sacred garments is not something to hide behind, but should be embraced in order to open oneself up to more. God is teaching us how to be in relationship both with one another, and with God.

When I began my student pulpit at Bnai Jeshurun what I wanted most was to be the most authentic and open version of myself on the Bima. I wanted to be able to create intimate relationships while davening, both with God and with the Kahal. But my background in performance made me anxious- I wanted to do the opposite of perform. I thought that performance would be a mask- something that would get in the way of creating relationship with God and the community. I tried to unlearn everything I knew about performing- to forget about the quality of my voice,- to let go of breath support, to tone down my facial expressions.  I thought I should not dress up at all.  And with the absence of these tools that I used in performances, I got to the bima, and I froze. 

I had unknowingly gotten rid of the tools that led me to feel like the most free and expressive version of myself. What I was left with was too raw. I thought being authentic meant to strip away the “performative” but I was wrong. I was given the opportunity to learn from my mentors that these tools weren’t barriers, they were pathways. They were the tools I needed to truly connect with the community and to connect with God. 

I recognize that many of us are allergic to the word performing in the context of prayer- that it comes off as inauthentic. In some cases, it absolutely can be.  Dressing up or wearing a metaphorical mask to the point where we don’t recognize ourselves does not automatically bring in the authentic self. It is when these tools are used skillfully and for the purpose of connecting with ourselves and others when they can be most effective.

We are about to go into the holiday of Purim, a time for costume and being someone who we are not. When we wear a mask, we may feel liberated from societal expectations, free to express parts of ourselves that we usually keep hidden. When we dress up, we can embody emotions that we normally might not otherwise tap into. We can dress up as Esther and embody courage or vulnerability, dress up as a favorite rock star and embody fun and joy. 

Oscar Wilde said:  “Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.” 

On Purim, we may think we are hiding behind costumes, but how can we use them as tools to express our truest selves? When I put on my red sweater as a child, I was not just pretending– The Cohen Gadol isn’t pretending when he puts on his priestly garments, we are not pretending when we put on the garb of tallit and t’fillin—We are unlocking a part of ourselves that are actually the most real. 

May we embrace authentic expression not as a removal of these aids, but as an engagement with them. May we, like Moses, seek to see God’s presence while understanding the power of intentional revelation. And may we find, in tradition, in prayer, and even in costume, the fullest expressions of who we are meant to be so we can build truly intimate relationships with our community and with God.

PAUSE….

I am grateful to the Javitch family in memory of Lee. I could not have had the education and opportunities without the family’s generosity. 

I want to thank my mentors Rabbi’s Roly and Felica along with my senior sermon mentor Rabbi Katz. 

And lastly, I want to thank you to my friends, family, classmates, teachers, and deans for supporting me on this journey.