Our “Other” Dad
As someone growing up in the 1980’s, I kind of had two fathers. Of course there was my Dad, the incredible man who raised and nurtured me and remains among my closest confidants to this day. But, beginning Thursday, September 20 1984 at 8pm, I, and my entire generation met our TV dad, Dr. Heathcliff Huxtable, played, of course, by Bill Cosby.
In the pilot episode of The Cosby Show we hear his son Theo give a seemingly heartfelt speech asking his father to accept him as a D student. The live studio audience applauds and Cosby, with his masterful timing, allows for this before interjecting, “Theo, that’s the dumbest thing I ever heard in my life…” It was a new breed of sitcom, one that valued honesty, and strived to reflect its contemporary reality. For years life lessons continued, doled out with equal parts wisdom, humor and tenderness. I grew up alongside the Huxtable kids, empathizing with Vanessa, who was, like me, not permitted to wear makeup, reveling in Rudy’s friendship with her friend Bud, and waiting for the annual family performance in tribute of their grandparents’ anniversary.
In more recent years I often sought out reruns of the show as it maintained its humor despite the passage of time and brought with it happy childhood memories.
I’ve had an incredibly difficult time rectifying the image of Bill Cosby, ideal family man, with the recent accusations involving him habitually taking advantage of women over the span of decades. At first I turned a blind eye to the reports, comfortably sitting with denial, but as the accounts grew in number and credibility it became impossible to ignore.
And so I’ve struggled with this for weeks. I am at a loss.
Many networks have ceased to rebroadcast the classic show. Are they right? Has it lost its integrity in the throes of this new alleged reality?
Let me tell you a story from our Talmud. It is said that Rabbah bar Shelah had the merit to meet Elijah, who, according to tradition, often appeared to the rabbis as a person with the knowledge of what God in Heaven was thinking or doing. And so Rabbah bar Shelah asked Elijah, “What is the Holy One, Blessed be God doing?” Elijah responded, “God is uttering traditions in the name of all the rabbis, except for those of Rabbi Meir.” Rabbah inquired about the exception, to which Elijah responded, “because he learned the tradition from Aher.”
Let’s pause for a moment in this teaching. Who was Acher? The word Acher means “other,” and is thus not a name, but rather the rabbinic equivalent of Harry Potter’s “He Who Must Not be Named.” Acher reefers to Elisha ben Abuyah—a once revered sage who adopted views considered heretical by his peers and is said to have turned his back on our people. Our tradition posits explanations for Abuyah’s radical change, and for more on that I recommend the historical novel, “As a Driven Leaf,” by Milton Steinberg. For our purpose, it can simply be said that Abuyah had disappointed his people and that would explain why Elijah claimed that God was not reciting his faithful pupil’s teachings in Heaven.
But back to the rabbinic passage; here comes the gem. To Elijah’s statement that God did not recite the teachings of Rabbi Meir “because he learned the tradition from Acher,” Rabbah responded, “rimon matza. Tocho achal. Kaleepato zarak.—He found a pomegranate: The inside he ate; its peel he threw away.” The inside, the seeds, of the pomegranate are what we eat. It rough peel is inedible. Rabbah is teaching us that Rabbi Meir was able to view Acher as a pomegranate, embracing his valuable teachings while setting aside his transgressions.
I found this text particularly poignant regarding Cosby. After all, before he portrayed Cliff Huxtable, he had helmed a children’s program called Picture Pages, which had educated millions.
With his role on television’s I Spy he became the first African American to star in a prime time drama. Certainly these lessons and achievements, these pomegranate seeds, are not to be erased in light of new concerns about Cosby’s character.
Bill Cosby allegedly acted in a horrific manner. Let me be clear that my love for his body of work does not transcend the power of his crimes. Such behavior is reprehensible and inexcusable. And, all the more so, it is disappointing. Perhaps it should come as no surprise. Celebrities, athletes and politicians fuel our news cycles with accounts of behavior that misses the mark—actions that cross the line from “nobody’s perfect,” entering into the territory of unacceptable human behavior. Indeed, members of my own profession, the clergy, are among the most well-known violators.
When I was a child, I would become wholly wrapped up in stories—books, movies, television. I can hear my parents’ voices in an often cited refrain, “Kim, it’s only a movie.” And so, I employ this lesson to Dr. Huxtable. He was not real. He committed no crime more severe than hiding hoagies from his wife. It was Dr. Huxtable, not the actor who played him, that was a regular fixture of my formative years, who was a “father” to a generation. Perhaps this is an answer that I am giving to myself, grasping to process what feels like a painful betrayal. It might not be the right answer. There might not be a right answer. And so, in the way of our tradition, I am left with questions.
Among my questions: Can we separate the sin from the sinner? For this we can return to the aforementioned Rabbi Meir. It was his wife Beruriah who taught: we must distinguish between sin and sinner. She scolded her husband for praying that the criminals in his neighborhood be punished. Rather, she noted the verse says, “may sin cease from the land” (Tehillim 104:35)–sin, but not sinner (Brachot 10a). Let me echo the wisdom of Beruriah, one of the greatest documented women sages in our history, and join her in praying for a time when such discussions are unnecessary, evil impulses can be controlled, when men and women can encounter one another with understanding and respect.