D'var Torah on the celebration of my Bar Mitzvah
Eric Horowitz - As the 2010 edition of the Paul Blank Invitational rolls around, a metaphor has been bandied about which likens this year’s game to the PBI’s “bar mitzvah.” Apparently the PBI’s 13th anniversary has created a wave of 7th grade nostalgia which longs for the good ol’ days – days like the one where you had to tell your best friend you can’t go to his bar mitzvah because the 4th hottest girl from your class is having her bat mitzvah the same weekend.
Nevertheless, we should be skeptical of the “bar mitzvah” motif due to the questionable assumption that the PBI is inherently male. Two of the game’s key themes are the expressed desire to feel the physical love of a man, and the sweet sound of a middle C alto singing voice piercing through the fall wind. Neither of those screams masculinity. Perhaps we should consider whether last year was the PBI’s bat mitzvah?
For now let’s give the PBI the benefit of the doubt and assume it embodies the qualities of “maleness”. Why is this hackneyed, bizarrely anthropomorphic idea of a football game’s bar mitzvah important?
One answer is that the game’s symbolic entrance into adulthood means it is time for the PBI to “grow up.” No more tardiness, no more mishaps, and no more officiating which resembles a stoned DJ attempting to gift a game of Coke and Pespi to the bat mitzvah girl’s four-year-old ADHD-afflicted sister. It is time for the PBI to act like a man.
A second, more powerful interpretation finds a different lesson. As many of you know or will one day learn, once you are no longer thirteen bar mitzvahs which lack an open bar can be quite boring. In general, the more you experience something, the more it loses its luster.
Yet after 13 years there is still nothing dull about our Paul Blank Invitational. Every Thanksgiving we make the journey from the JDS parking lot to playing field not knowing what we will find at our destination. Sure, this year Mr. Blank’s repeated letters to the cast of Glee went unanswered (not counting the restraining order), but there will still be singing, dancing, and a slew of other surprises. The PBI continues to bring us something we don’t see everyday -- in the end isn’t that what life is about?
The Chofetz Chaim once said “the sign of a great man is that the closer you get, the greater he seems.” Zora Neale Hurston also pondered what makes greatness when she wrote, “a thing is mighty big when time and distance cannot shrink it.” The PBI somehow manages to fulfill both their definitions. After 13 years, we know this game inside out, but our appreciation for it continues to grow. Similarly, those who cannot attend imagine it to be even greater. Like a fine wine, or Mr. Blank’s ability to sweet talk women at the Revitz House, the game gets better with age. It doesn’t matter that this is the PBI’s 13th year – in many ways it is still as exciting as the first.
Nevertheless, we should be skeptical of the “bar mitzvah” motif due to the questionable assumption that the PBI is inherently male. Two of the game’s key themes are the expressed desire to feel the physical love of a man, and the sweet sound of a middle C alto singing voice piercing through the fall wind. Neither of those screams masculinity. Perhaps we should consider whether last year was the PBI’s bat mitzvah?
For now let’s give the PBI the benefit of the doubt and assume it embodies the qualities of “maleness”. Why is this hackneyed, bizarrely anthropomorphic idea of a football game’s bar mitzvah important?
One answer is that the game’s symbolic entrance into adulthood means it is time for the PBI to “grow up.” No more tardiness, no more mishaps, and no more officiating which resembles a stoned DJ attempting to gift a game of Coke and Pespi to the bat mitzvah girl’s four-year-old ADHD-afflicted sister. It is time for the PBI to act like a man.
A second, more powerful interpretation finds a different lesson. As many of you know or will one day learn, once you are no longer thirteen bar mitzvahs which lack an open bar can be quite boring. In general, the more you experience something, the more it loses its luster.
Yet after 13 years there is still nothing dull about our Paul Blank Invitational. Every Thanksgiving we make the journey from the JDS parking lot to playing field not knowing what we will find at our destination. Sure, this year Mr. Blank’s repeated letters to the cast of Glee went unanswered (not counting the restraining order), but there will still be singing, dancing, and a slew of other surprises. The PBI continues to bring us something we don’t see everyday -- in the end isn’t that what life is about?
The Chofetz Chaim once said “the sign of a great man is that the closer you get, the greater he seems.” Zora Neale Hurston also pondered what makes greatness when she wrote, “a thing is mighty big when time and distance cannot shrink it.” The PBI somehow manages to fulfill both their definitions. After 13 years, we know this game inside out, but our appreciation for it continues to grow. Similarly, those who cannot attend imagine it to be even greater. Like a fine wine, or Mr. Blank’s ability to sweet talk women at the Revitz House, the game gets better with age. It doesn’t matter that this is the PBI’s 13th year – in many ways it is still as exciting as the first.
