And from the indigo and the purple and the crimson they made service garments to serve in the sanctuary… And they pounded out the sheets of gold… and they made the carnelian stones ringed with frames of gold… with the names of Israel’s sons.

Exodus 38-21 Pekudei

“Stand up straight! When you’re being fitted for clothing, I don’t care if it’s a suit or if it’s a costume, you want to be in a proper position so that the clothing fits.”

Jim Grossbard knew more about costumes than most of the wardrobe stylists he’d ever worked with on any of his movie sets and maybe more than one or two of his costume designers. Back in 2005, for his erotic thriller Dirty Fingernails, he sent his designer back fourteen times until she could find the right outfits. For each scene, Grossbard wanted clothing that could subconsciously communicate the mental breakdown of his leading man, and the growing dominance of his sex partner. The studio was infuriated at the delays, but Grossbard managed to make eight times his budget at the box office in a genre that everyone thought was dead.

Today, he was not dressing anyone for a studio production.

“But this is how I always stand, dad. If I stand straight when they cut the suit for me, won’t it be droopy when I stand normal?”

“Danny, on the day of your Bar Mitzvah, you’re going to be standing straight. One day is all I ask. You’re playing a role. A boy coming into adulthood. You need to be in character all day. What you do the day after is your own business.”

“But dad, I’m not playing a role. I’m playing myself. Why can’t you look at this as more of a documentary than an action movie?”

“It’s not an action movie. It’s an uplifting character-driven coming-of-age story. The emphasis is on the uplifting. People need to leave the theater, well, uplifted. And for that, the star has to have a strong proud spine. This is “Chariots of Fire”, not Woody Allen.

“It’s a synagogue, not a theater.”

“A synagogue is a theater. It’s a theater where God is the star, but he’s invisible. He’s off-stage. You’re the on-stage star. You need to look the part.”

“OH MY GOD, SIX THOUSAND DOLLARS?”

“Stop looking at the tags. My job is to pay the bills. Your job is to stand up straight.”

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT I COULD BUY WITH THIS SIX THOUSAND DOLLARS?”

“You couldn’t buy anything because you don’t have the six thousand dollars.”

“Can I sell it this suit day after?”

“The day after is the reception, and you’ll be wearing it then too.”

“TWO days after.”

“It’s tailored for you. No one else will pay two cents for it. But I gotta say, you look pretty fuckin’ good. I’m already thinking how we’re going to light you when you’re on the platform in front of the Torah.

The tailor came, put one hand on Danny’s chest, the other on the small of his back, and pressed them until Danny had no choice but to stand straight. He quickly made chalk lines all around the suit before Danny realized that he wanted to slouch again.

“I could never get away with the way you handled that,” Grossbard told the tailor.

“Step down, you’re done,” the tailor told Danny. Your father’s right. You’re going to look great.

“I’d still rather have the money,” Danny groaned.

Grossbard dragged his son over to the desk while he settled up. “The suit is nothing. Do you know how much this whole party is costing? The hall, the food, the entertainers, the lighting, the table ornaments? Everything was selected to be perfect. Like in real life, the only thing I can’t control is the star. Especially when he’s a spoiled prima donna.”

“I thought God was the star.”

“Did I say God was the star? God is not the star. You’re the star. God is the studio exec. The schmuck looking over your shoulder who wants to be impressed so he’ll let you live another day. You. It’s you who’s the star.”

“Then why aren’t you paying me?”

As they stepped out onto Beverly Drive, the liveliness of the street and the hot sunshine smacked them both in the face. Grossbard took a quick look over his shoulder to make sure that there was no one he’d have to either dodge or chat up.

“Look, you want to be paid for your own Bar Mitzvah? I’ll tell you what. You deliver the goods. You stand straight, you read the Torah like a pro, you shake hands with my friends and with the synagogue staff like you own the room. At the end of the day, I’ll ask the rabbi to grade you. If he gives you an “A”, I’ll give you six thousand dollars to do with whatever you want. Except drugs of course. Are you up to the challenge?”

“YEAH!”

Father and son shook hands to seal the deal in front of Nate ‘n Al’s.

“Let’s get a pastrami sandwich,” Grossbard pronounced as he put his hand around Danny’s shoulder and pulled him into the room.

…

“It wasn’t supposed to rain today. Run for it!” Jim Grossbard tucked himself under his huge black umbrella, pulled his wife Caitlyn into his chest and leaned the umbrella over her, as the two ran from the car into the synagogue.

“You did everything you could, sweetie, short of calling a psychic.” The rain sounded like machine gun fire against the umbrella. Jim felt like he was back on the set of ‘Ace of Spades’, his Iraq war movie about the hunt for Saddam Hussein. It was not the feeling he wanted to have on the day of his son’s Bar Mitzvah.

“It never rains in June. We pushed Danny’s Bar Mitzvah out two months to keep this from happening. Do you need any more proof of climate change? I told his brother to drop him off at the door. If he looks like a drowned rat, I’m holding both of them responsible.”

They arrived inside. Jim shook out his umbrella but could find no place to put it so he tipped the custodian ten dollars to put it somewhere safe. He felt his hair and was relieved when it didn’t feel drenched. One of his crew members went rushing up to him.

“Jim, we have a problem. Arthur on the hand-held camera couldn’t make it in from Castaic. His car isn’t starting in the rain.”

“Has that fuckin’ idiot never heard of Uber? I’d call the union myself and find a replacement now if I thought he was replaceable. Tell him to take an Uber and I’ll pay for it. Tell him NOW and he can still make it in time. Caity, find our son and see if he’s dry. I need to speak with the rabbi.”

“I have a towel and a hairbrush under my coat. I’ll make sure he’s fine.”

“You’re amazing. Hopefully only his brother will need it. I’ll meet you inside.”

Jim went down the hall to see if the rabbi was in his office, but the door was locked. He gave it three loud knocks and nothing happened. He took a few steps down into the office, grabbed a piece of paper and wrote “CALL ME NOW – IT’S JIM”, added his cell phone number, folded it up and taped it onto the door.

He continued to stride down the hall towards the sanctuary. This was the curse of being in a wealthy congregation; nothing was close to anything. Finally, he swung open the east door and scanned each section. In the two rear corners the stationary cameras were being set up by his crew. The benches were empty except for some guy handling cables who was scarfing down his breakfast. Finally, he turned to the bima, the stage, where his son would be reciting prayers and reading from the Torah. A beautiful gold plate fashioned like the tablets of the Ten Commandments was positioned on a podium of acacia wood and marble. Magnificent craftwork was tooled into the gold that made it appear to have the texture of aged parchment. Twelve distinct precious stones were laid into the front of the marble to represent the twelve tribes of Israel. Jim tried to relax for just a minute to appreciate what the human hand was capable of. He took a few seconds on each stone, imagining how it felt like in the hand of the person who cut and polished it. He got to the eighth when a hand clasped him on the shoulder and ruined his reverie.

“You were looking for me?” It was Rabbi Youngstein. He seemed to be impatient and distracted.

“Sorry to bother you rabbi” Jim said. “I know you’ve got a lot…”

“I’m busy, but I don’t want you to think you’re bothering me. I’m here for you, for your family, and especially for Danny. You must be very proud.”

“I am. It’s a beautiful podium. You wouldn’t think artisans existed any more that could create such a work. But it was worth every penny.”

“Jim, I’m not talking about your donation. I’m talking about your son. You must be very proud of him today.”

“Well, the show hasn’t even begun yet. I’ll be proud of him when it’s over, hopefully. That’s why I was looking for you. I have a favor to ask.”

“Name it and it’s yours, Jim.”

“I need you to grade Danny when this is all over. How well did he read from the Torah. Did he know his prayers. How insightful was his analysis of his Torah section. In your opinion, did he have presence?”

“Jim, I’m not here to grade him. I’m here to guide him. He’s going to do great.”

“Yeah, I know, you say that to all the dads. But you’ve done hundreds of Bar Mitzvahs. They’re not all the same. Some are A’s; most are probably B’s, a few are an embarrassment, and you still tell their mom and dad they did great. I just want you to be honest.”

“Why? What’s the difference? He’s your son. He’s unique. Forget about the others.”

“Haven’t I donated enough to the congregation to just expect honesty? I gave Danny financial incentive to do a bang-up job, and I shouldn’t be the judge. I need someone objective. Ruthless.”

“Mr. Grossbard, if you’re looking for ruthless, I think you came to the wrong rabbi.”

“Okay, forget ruthless. Honest. Don’t tell me that I came to the wrong rabbi if I’m looking for honesty.”

“I will try to evaluate Danny with candor.”

“Candor is good. That’s a beautiful podium I have to say. Today it’s for Danny. But in the future, every time you’ll stand behind it, it will be like you’re wearing a breast plate of gold.”

“It was a lovely gift, Mr. Grossbard. More than we could possibly need.”

“It’s not about need, rabbi. It’s about drama. I would have thought you’d learned that in all your years.”

Rabbi Youngstein added “I’m sure I still have a lot to learn,” but Caitlyn was tugging at her husband’s wrist.

Jim excused himself and followed his wife into the hall.

“Have you seen Danny?” she asked.

“I thought that was your job.”

“I can’t find him and his brother can’t find him.” Caitlyn’s eyes kept jumping around as though Danny might appear magically in the last place she just looked.

“It’s his fucking Bar Mitzvah for God’s sake. He’s thirteen years old and he thinks he’s Drew Barrymore? Okay, let’s scour the place. Get his brother involved.”

Jim Grossbard ran back into the sanctuary where the camera operators were continuing to set up and the stage was being dressed. “MY SON IS MISSING. YOU SHOULD ALL KNOW WHAT HE LOOKS LIKE BY NOW AND IF YOU FIND HIM PIN HIM DOWN AND CALL ME IMMEDIATELY.”

His mind immediately began to fashion a visual map of every hall and room he’d ever passed through in the entire temple. He developed a plan to gradually make his way from the rear entrance, where Danny presumably had been let off, through every hall, and back to the starting place. If he passed a ladies’ room, he would bang on the door. If someone answered, he’d crack the door and ask if his son was there. Otherwise, he’d just go in. It took him less time than he’d imagined to cover the entire first floor, and so he leapt up the staircase to the hall where the nursery school classrooms were. The only thing that slowed him down was one moment when he recognized a class picture from ten years ago. Danny’s class. Danny was so cute back then. He thought for a moment – if ten years could turn that adorable kid into the slightly whiny young almost-a-man he was now, what would Danny be like when he was twenty-three? Was Danny made for this world? Was he star material or… it frightened him to think this way… or “extra” material?

After scouring four classrooms, he finally found his son squatting in a tiny three-year old’s chair, surrounded by a puddle of rain water. Danny’s beautiful curly hair was waterlogged; his son looked like a sheep dog that had just survived a fight with the Loch Ness monster.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jim asked his son.

“You’re going to kill me.”

Jim silently agreed, but he wanted to hear Danny’s story first.

“Your brother was supposed to drop you off at the door. Is this his fault?”

Danny kept his eyes to the ground. “It’s my fault. I ran out of the car into the rain. I was mad at him.”

“What did he do now?”

“He said I wasn’t really Jewish.”

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?”

“While we were driving here, Sandy said that he thought it was stupid that I was getting a Bar Mitzvah and he didn’t because he was Jewish and I wasn’t.”

“He didn’t WANT a Bar Mitzvah. Now he’s getting jealous?”

“His mother is Jewish and mom isn’t.”

“YOUR MOTHER IS JEWISH!”

“She converted.”

“SO WHAT? YOUR MOTHER IS TWICE AS JEWISH AS THAT MONEY MOP. Your mother fasts on Yom Kippur. She hasn’t had a single bite of pork since the day she converted. Sandy’s mother didn’t give a crap about her Jewish heritage. The Pope is more Jewish than Sharon ever was. At least he wears a head covering.”

“Is it true that mom didn’t finish her conversion until after I was born?”

“That’s why Sandy says you’re not Jewish?”

“So, it’s true.”

“She got sick during the whole conversion process so we had to delay the final ceremony, then you came along three weeks early. Big deal.”

“Then I need to be converted to Judaism before I can have my Bar Mitzvah.”

“Danny, we’re Reform! We’re as Reform as they come. If you say you’re Jewish, it’s a done deal.”

“I can’t go through with it. It wouldn’t be honest. I don’t care about the six thousand dollars.”

“Danny, you’ve worked so hard on this. The whole family is here. I hired a crew. I donated the most incredible podium so that you could look glorious on your most glorious day. Why not just go through with this today, and then we can settle this with the rabbinic scholars another time?”

“Can we ask the rabbi if it’s alright?”

This was like putting the whole event on a single bet at the roulette table. He also knew he had no choice.

“Danny, we don’t have much time. Go down into the sanctuary and ask any of the crew members behind a camera where Elissa Cathcart is. She will make you look presentable. Go now. I’ll find the rabbi.”

“You can’t bribe him to say I’m Jewish if I’m really not! You can ask him, but I want to be there when you do.”

“Danny there is no… oh forget about it. Come with me.”

The man and almost-a-man ran together down the stairway and into the sanctuary. Guests were beginning to arrive, and Jim was angry that he couldn’t be there to greet them. But he was relieved to see the rabbi up at the altar, reviewing his notes.”

“Rabbi Youngstein!” Jim called.

“Danny what happened to you?” the rabbi asked.

“He had a theological crisis,” Jim explained. “We need your learned opinion. I asked for your candor? I need it now. When your predecessor converted Caitlyn, she didn’t actually finish the conversion process until a few weeks after Danny was born. She started before, but she finished after. Danny wants to know if he’s Jewish, or if he has to be converted first.”

“You know, Mr. Grossbard, in my entire career as a rabbi, I don’t think I’ve ever come across as convoluted a situation as you’ve just posed. Certainly not with this sort of time pressure.”

“Well, we could convert you right now,” the rabbi continued. You need to be circumcised, you need to be drenched in water, and we need three rabbis to officiate. I’m guessing that numbers one and two are already taken care of, right?”

Danny nodded, feeling for the first time that his circumcision paid off.

“But there’s no way I can get two rabbis down here in time,” Rabbi Youngstein sighed.

Danny began pulling at his wet hair. “I’M SCREWED!”

The rabbi put his hand on Danny’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

“Danny, look at me. Look straight at me. That’s it. Don’t look away. There is a circumstance in which three rabbis are not necessary. Danny, were you raised Jewish?”

“Yeah.”

“I knew the answer to that one. Danny, are you Jewish?”

“That’s what I’m trying to…”

The rabbi cut him off.

“No, no, no. I’m asking you. You don’t get to ask me anything. You just answer my question. Danny, are you Jewish?

“Of course, I am. It wasn’t until…”

“Don’t say one more word. Dry your hair. Get in your suit. Get your butt into the seat in the first row with your family, and I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”

Jim pointed to a woman crowned in dark brown ringlets of hair chatting up one of the camera men.

“That’s Elissa Cathcart,” he told Danny. Let her know who you are and the second she sees you she’ll know what to do.” Danny ran off without looking back.

“Tell me, rabbi, was that candor or bullshit you just gave Danny?” Jim asked.

“It’s whatever you believe it was. We’re reform.”

“I’ll choose to believe it was candor.”

“Mr. Grossbard, I’m not capable of bullshit.”

“Call me Jim. Everyone’s capable.”

Jim turned to the back of the sanctuary.

“EVERYONE! GET TO YOUR PLACES. SHOW STARTS IN TWENTY MINUTES.” He felt a tap on his shoulder. It was his special camera man.

“Jim, I’ve got the hand-held. Is Danny going to be seated in the front, or are we going to have him make an entrance from the back?”

“Arthur! You made it! Tell you what. Let’s open quasi-documentary. Strictly hand held. We’ll send Danny to the reception area right outside the sanctuary. You catch him chatting with his friends and his aunts and uncles. Very natural. Then when he enters, switch to the Steadicam and follow him in as he takes his seat with the rest of us. I’ll have Gloria light him from behind and we’ll push it so he glows and everything around him glows.”

“I can do that.”

“And Arthur, one more thing. Get yourself a new car and send me the bill.”

…

By Monday, the clouds were gone from the sky, the rain had evaporated from the pavement, and the only trace of Saturday’s storm was the moist glistening on the grass that surrounded the path to the front door of the synagogue where Danny Grossbard had his Bar Mitzvah two days earlier. Jim parked at the curb. This would be a quick in and out. Rabbi Youngstein was in his office.

“Rabbi, forgive me, I need just five minutes of your time.”

“Jim, sit down. I’ll give you ten.”

Jim sat in the sofa facing the rabbi’s desk, and he realized how out of place he felt. Usually, he was behind the desk. Even when he was begging for a green light from some studio executive, they’d move the conversation to a side table.

“Well, you were right,” Jim confessed. “I was proud. But you’re the expert. How did Danny do?”

“How did he do? He was great.”

“Remember you promised me candor? I’m calling in my chit. What grade would you give him?”

“You’re still on that?”

“You knew I was coming back for this. Besides, Danny gets paid based on what you say, not what I think.”

“Well, if you really want candor, I’d give him a B.”

“YOU’D GRADE HIM A ‘B’? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? That kid knocked it out of the park. He hit the ball clear to San Diego.”

“He was very good.”

“Not that good, apparently.”

“Look, his prayers were flawless. His Torah reading, well, you heard how often he stumbled. No worse than any other kid mind you. And his talk on the Torah portion, I felt he was just saying what he thought I wanted to hear. But what I really wanted to hear was what was in Danny’s soul. He never got past that.”

“Well, what he had to say about his Torah portion knocked me on my ass. I don’t think I’d have had that sort of insight myself today, much less at his age.”

“I’m sure you could. And he had my help.”

“Can you do better than a ‘B’?”

“You want a ‘B plus’?”

“I was thinking an ‘A minus’.”

“Mr. Grossbard, did you come here for the truth or for bullshit?”

“I guess I should have known better. You’re a rabbi. You seek the truth. I’m a film director. I hand out bullshit.”

“You know, I don’t think even the great Rambam ever had to pontificate on such a difficult interpretation. Okay. You obviously want Danny to win his little bet, and you’re understandably proud of him. Tell Danny that I said I looked into his father’s eyes, and saw an ‘A plus’”.

Jim smiled. “You’re good, rabbi. You’re very good. Alright. I’ll tell him that. And I look forward to when you’re collecting for the annual fund, because I promise to be very generous. But rabbi, let me know if you ever want to cross over to the other side. Because in my world, great bullshit, really well told, becomes the truth.”

“I’m happy on my side of the podium, Mr. Grossbard, but thank you in advance for your generosity.”

Jim got up and shook hands with Rabbi Youngstein. As he walked to the car, he wished that he had his camera man with him because he realized that he had just played out the third act of the movie of Danny’s Bar Mitzvah, the part where you smack your palm against your head and say ‘Now suddenly it all makes sense!’

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