#Hashbrowns

Because we were slaves to pharoah in Egypt.

This is the question asked and answered, at the heart of the seder, the observation of Passover. It is central to Jewish identity in a way not often considered. Normally, when pressed for a Jewish identity statement, the resulting answer is the Shema. To be certain, the Shema (translated “Hear me, Israel, the Lord is our god, and the Lord is one.”) which is about as close to a credo statement as is presented in Judaism. But it defines little about who we worship, only a simple declaration that we do. So who is this god we announce so boldly? The god of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob?

He is the god who brought us out of Egyptian Bondage to be our god. In deference to this, we shall have no other gods before him. This is the first law handed down at Sinai. If our jewish identity was simply one of filial piety, surely this god could have easily cited his presence as the god of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. But he establishes this tone. That because of this supreme act of liberation, we owe our gratitude. That this is an ongoing blessing, as we are commanded to remember this liberation just as if we had personally been freed.

But the lesson seems lost. This is what our god did for us, but that is all. Here’s the thing: it probably didn’t happen. Or if it did, in a woefully misreported form. Our god is not a man of flesh and blood to whom we shall drink a toast for the favor of manumission. If there is no entity to express gratitude to, if there is no true facts to the story, then what is the point?

Metaphors can be layered and complex, but this is not. Our god is the very act of liberation, which is our obligation to provide as we might, and aid in any way we can. Eretz Mitzrayim is not a physical country on the banks of the river Nile, but any nation, any power, that is used for ill, to oppress and destroy. Slavery, oppression and apartheid are the Pharoah’s soldiers, and we are to fight them, no matter which Pharoah commands them. Even if it is an otherwise charming man. Even if the Pharoah weilds this oppression for our benefit at the expense of others.

We must embrace the spirit of the season and call for change. We must fight the forces of State terror in word and deed. It is a long, slow process. It is our 40 years in the desert.

But next year, in Jerusalem.

For anyone who doesn’t know, Takashi Miike is the hardest working man in Japanese Cinema, producing works in varying extreme styles. One of his more recent forays into theaters (which for anyone reading in Columbia, is currently playing at the Ragtag), 13 Assassins, is possibly the best L5R campaign ever committed to celluloid.

While I am avoiding spoilers, depending on your level of willful ignorance, some may follow, so be warned.

There is a foul villain, in the waining days of the Tokugawa era, there exists the sort of sadistic monster that only exist in Takashi Miike films, and a small band of committed and skillful samurai commit themselves to slaying this creep.

After the initial outlay establishing the villain is a villain for villains (in case you might feel sympathy for the guy being targeted by the titular Assassins) there is very little of Miike’s signature stylized violence, and instead we get a patient, paced, Kurosawa-esque travelling series along with quite a bit of plotting and preparation.

What this results in is a film made of overlapping films: a heist film more deserving of the title than Oceans 12 was, a slightly comedic brotherly road film on the order of Stand By Me (but with less Wil Wheaton)  followed by one of the better executions of a Chambara film in my recent experience.

I rarely think any film needs to be seen by everyone. But it does deserve some mention.

Transformers 3  cost just short of 200 million dollars. 13 Assassins cost roughly 6 million.

That money would be much better making 33 films to equal 13 Assassins. And knowing Miike, he could have those 33 finished inside of  5 years.

Rapture people, I totally feel for you. You really don’t need anyone making fun of you.

Normally, I’d be inclined to sanctimoniousness in the face of being completely right about something, especially something where you are telling me to my face that you are better than me, and that for this reason I deserve to die horribly at the hands of Satan himself.

But that’s not where you are right now. Right now, far more important to you that I and the countless others like me were right was that you were wrong. Something you believed, really and truly, with all your heart, was false. You had accepted it on faith. Some of you took dramatic steps acting on this certainty you had for the end of your mortal life; emptying bank accounts, quitting jobs, in some cases giving away or putting down family pets. There’s another set of people who go through the same actions: Suicides.

You have lived your life with the meaning hinging on what you were certain would be this one day and now that’s gone, leaving nothing but a hole. You’ve endured an absolute disappointment. For this, you have my sympathy.

Please do not go back to waiting for the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. It never arrives.