As a teenager, Michael Jackson was top on my list of favorite artists. His album Thriller came out when I was in grade school and I remember listening to the songs play over and over at the roller-skating rink. So, when scandals emerged in his name in the earlier 1990s it shook me to the core and forever changed my relationship to him as an artist. Going to the movie “Michael” with my family last week, I wondered how I would feel almost two decades after his death. While the story reminded me of what I once loved about him as an artist, the stench of the arrests and child abuse still lingered.
I thought of this as I read about the ritual of the red heifer in this week’s Torah portion Chukat-Balak. In it a pure red cow is sacrificed to purify the high priest. But, in the process of doing so everyone involved is made impure. Similar to the handling of modern day hazardous material, great care was taken in the process of this sacrifice, removing all of the ashes far from the camp and going as far to burn the clothing of everyone involved. Just as the new biopic can’t fully bring back the luster of Michael Jackson’s legacy, purity is hard to come by. As human beings we have the capacity to both heal and hurt. Sometimes the same person can do both. The Jewish world’s example is Shlomo Carlebach whose music has infused Jewish liturgy for decades, but whose life damaged so many girls and women that it forever tarnished his legacy. Can we sing his niggunim (wordless melodies) without hurting the people he hurt? Similarly, is Michael Jackson’s music and movie an affront to the children he abused? Yes, and yes, no, and no. The ritual of the red heifer is a reminder that no matter how carefully we treat the sacrifice, human purity is fundamentally an impossibility.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Alex