Between tradition and modernity is a TV rabbis

In recent years, many particularly charming actors have played rabbis on TV. Adam Brody, Sarah Sherman, Daveed Diggs and Kathryn Hahn all wore Kippah, wrapped themselves in Tallis, and showed the fun (even sexy) of love (even sexy) that could carve a path between traditional rock and tough modernity. I'm not sure why the progressive rabbis are the priests who pop culture tend to assign this role, rather than the eccentric priests or eccentric imams. Perhaps Judaism is perfect for a religion that revels in doubt and doubt. Maybe the rabbi is just more interesting.

Plus, Elsa Guedj plays the TV clergy Rabbi Léa Schmoll. exist reform,,,,, Léa now plays a new French series on Max, making the Millennium-history rituals fun again. Unlike many other shows that have rabbi, this show focuses on Rabbily’s actual work, but it’s not easy. Drama (and sitcoms) reform Her struggle with the nihilism of our fallen world has no answer to the bigger questions of life, nor a rigid orthodox form that provides too many simple answers.

In the middle stands, the human Lean exudes sweet air, wild mane and wide-open eyes of young Carol Kane. Her shirt is often removed and half-turned. She is forever late. She had just participated in her first rabbi performance when she opened in her hometown of Strasbourg, east France. In a rare country, she is also a female rabbi—the show has been ongoing gags on the titles she uses because both French words are female rabbi, To your Lord, There is also a hard-earned alternative. Mrs. Rabbisounds so unfamiliar that they giggle regularly with provocative giggles. After graduating from Jewish school, she moved back to her despicable father's book-lined apartment, the weathered Serge Gainsbourg Look-look (Éric Elmosnino) actually played Gainsbourg in the biopic). He is a psychotherapist and a determined atheist, and the Judaism daughter is a cosmic joke. “There are Galileo, Freud, Auschwitz concentration camp,” he announced at dinner while discussing the new work. "I think the problem has been solved. God does not exist. Creation is meaningless. We are alone. We live. We suffer." (In French - I promise - this sounds like a very ordinary dinner conversation.)

In the first episode, Léa must defend one of the most primitive forms of religious practice: circumcision. A new mother asks her non-Jewish partner to overcome her resistance to her son with a Brees. After many initial mistakes, she felt that her father's pain was that his son's body was different from his own body, and no longer an extension of herself. Léa dabbles in the story of the Bible, the constraints of Isaac. As they stood outside the synagogue, the father kept strikingly rhythms, drinking espresso and smoking (again France), she provided an explanation for God’s seemingly sadistic commands that Abraham sacrificed his son. She believes that this is done, not to test Abraham’s faith—God knows everything, probably already knows Abraham’s loyalty, but ultimately stops his hand before Abraham puts his knife down, proving the limits of parents’ power over his children’s life.

As Léa says, this cruel story becomes a comforting allegory of learning to stop projecting itself onto children and let them go. "Isaac's restraint is actually the moment when he was not bound to his father," Lea said. "God said to the Hebrews, 'Your children are not your children. They are from you. But they are not you.'"

The Mizwa Bar, the wedding, Passover Seed and two funerals will be held later. Despite repeating the same dynamic, Lea learned how to understand the confidence in the ritual. "In the end, our job is to implement certain gestures and try to understand what they mean." The explanation is her creative behavior, and also makes reform What's fascinating is that she's really good at it.

reform Based on this book Live with our deadtranslated in English by Delphine Horvilleur last year. Horvilleur is a free rabbi (she would even accept the "secular rabbi"), and he has become a French celebrity. The book doesn't seem to fit into the comedy series, in which she tells about 11 instances of mourning and how she strives to incorporate death into her life. She also argues eloquently about her more liberal forms of religion. The moment she wrote was the birth of the second temple in 70 AD after the destruction of the second temple in Jerusalem. Rabbi were exiled, without a temple, they could sacrifice to God. She wrote that they invented a religion, a form of “literal atheism”, “a world in which the world does not interfere, where human decisions are made when there is dispute.”

In the show, Léa has an opponent at this point, a vibrant local Orthodox Rabbi named Arié (Lionel Dray), who was once her teacher. The friction in their relationship is more than just theology – their “yes? No?” sexual tension adds another sitcom element to the show (though given his black fedora and many kids at home, I guess they won’t). They fight in a friendly, sometimes not very friendly way, whether there is a “real” form of Judaism. In a climax scene, their arguments are overwhelmed in a group discussion between faiths. Arié calls Léa's Jewish approach "arranged": she chooses and chooses something that suits her interests. "If the goal is to confirm your beliefs, why not practice meditation or Oriental Spiritual Workshop?" he asked her. Lea asked him if he practiced polygamy to shoot. Religion is evolving, she said, and, in addition, “many people desire to connect with the wisdom of the biblical texts, and even if you claim to have exclusive ownership, they have the right.” Good, Arié replied, but “Don’t call it Judaism. Because that’s not Judaism. That’s another thing.”

As someone on the side of the Léa debate, I agree with Horvilleur that “Judicia does not require its followers to pass the final exam” and I thank her for her strong defense of this more open version of religion and her view of her self-attitude when arguing about it. Judaism trying to live into a ever-changing world has a sense of inferiority. It is not even a fair fight when one side takes reality as authorization while the other side quotes God’s direct authorization. However, Lea's work seems to make more sense, because the comfort she provides is more like grace. When she taught a man to sit alone with her mother's coffin about the tradition of Jews tearing a piece of clothing while mourning, he explained that it symbolized that "the survivor will never be all in one more." The gesture broke the distinct nothingness on his son's face.

I was moved by watching a show that found drama in all of this, because at the moment, I am helping my 12-year-old daughter prepare for her bat ceremony. She had to write a speech in response to the Torah section she was going to read, which included a Scripture prohibition, “Don’t boil the child with mother’s milk.” From this, early rabbi inferred strict dietary methods, prohibiting mixing milk and meat. My daughter’s readings are different, though. In her comments on the text, she found that in the ancient Near East, meat cooked in yogurt was a delicious dish. She wondered, maybe God didn't intend it to be a restriction on food at all. Maybe he is just asking people not to show off with exquisite dishes. Maybe he told them to live simply. I like the old saying that she found her meaning, an Orthodox rabbi like Arié would find ridiculous, but Leila would smile.

reform It is much more interesting than the back and forth of this doctrine suggests. The show is ultimately about people who are confused when facing life at most moments when it comes to injecting meaning. Can religion still have goals for those of us who don’t believe in it? The show answers with a qualifying affirmative - as long as religion is never too sure of itself. Arié tells Léa in a moment of comfort. “Maybe everyone who is looking for something else needs you.”