Today's texts are fluid. They're online and off; sacred, profane, and sometimes a mixture of both; written for the people, by the people. But considering sacred Jewish texts through the lens of the contemporary reality for writing, how broadly are we willing to define "text"? Is it anything that was handed down at Sinai, or by Talmud-era rabbis, or by contemporary rabbis; do compilations (like a siddur, mahzor or haggadah, for instance) qualify for classical text status, even if parts of them are always changing?
A few months ago, I was part of a panel discussion on text, context, art and tradition, as seen through a series of short films about the steps of the Passover seder. "Projecting Freedom," a project of the Skirball Center for Adult Jewish Learning at Temple Emanu-El and underwritten by an Ignition Grant from The Covenant Foundation, gathered video and visual artists in an intensive exploration of the themes and images of Passover, giving them the textual tools to interpret the Haggadah in new ways. (Check out Hanan Harchol's "Maror" segment below.)
In preparation for the panel, Skirball's Founding Director, Rabbi Leon Morris, sent the panelists a series of questions to have in mind during our preparation. I found these questions really interesting, and wrote out some responses. Give them a read and let me know what your thoughts are on tradition, art and text in the age of technology.
In what ways are these videos "text" and in what ways are they not?
My primary definition is as a writer – text to me should be made of words. But since those words, wielded effectively, yield vivid images and associations, I’m willing to extend the aegis of “text” to include image, both still and moving. Pictures are worth a thousand words, which can’t always be the case or I’m out of a job. But even still images sometimes are enhanced by captions, and many moving images contain characters and dialogue. In a wider sense, I’ve always thought that texts were the core pieces, the basis or grounding for conversation, analysis, and absorption.
Text as the center of a conversation is always more interesting to me than talking or writing to hear yourself speak/write. To me, texts that make an impression, whether it’s resonance or dissonance, inspire other texts. True in blogging, in film or television criticism, and even of rabbis’ sermons – I sit through them wishing I could take notes as ideas and questions occur to me, because inevitably, by the time Shabbat or the holiday is over, the thoughts have rejoined the swirling pool of vague ideas in my brain.
I think the Haggadah is a particularly resonant example of texts inspiring other texts – rabbis interpreting words into stories, using phrases to justify their interpretations of how many plagues there are, or what words or tone makes the difference between a wise child and a rebellious child, etc
What makes a text "sacred" or "classic"?
Classic is generally used when people don’t want to say “old” or “traditional.” Coke Classic, anyone? The issue of sacredness is problematic, because it presumes that someone has proclaimed it sacred. Who is that person? Can he or she be trusted to identify something that is sacred? And is sacredness personal, communal, universal? But the second you call something sacred, you erect a fence around it, and say this is the thing that needs to be protected from the elements – erosion by the winds of change, perhaps. And to challenge texts that are generally acknowledged as sacred is seen by some as an imperative and others as heresy, so walking that line is usually the role of the general community member, and crossing over that line is generally the job of the artist or scholar.
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