Growing up in Beverly Hills during the 1980's, exorbitance soon lost its extravagance, gaudiness its ghastliness. The more expensive the affair the better, or so it seemed. Thus when I first arrived at Beth Shalom synagogue that Sabbath morning to celebrate Monica's becoming a bat mitzvah, I expected the worse. And in most ways, Monica Lewinsky's was your typically tacky Beverly Hills bat mitzvah. The valets were waiting at the door of the synagogue to park the Porsches, movie stars in sequined dresses filled the expensive seats, and as usual, the special effects were incredible. (I'll never forget the image of Monica flying around the sanctuary with the Torah cradled in her arm, lasers shooting out the open arc below.) But even amidst this shameful display, there were signs that the young woman chanting the She'ma from the synagogue's rafters was only just beginning to embarrass the Jewish community.
Don't get me wrong, Monica came to Shul prepared. She led Shachrit in impeccable Hebrew, read the entire Torah portion, and repeated the Musaf Amidah seemingly without looking down at her prayer book. But when she concluded her d'var torah, which recounted the story of Yael and Sisera, with the moral that it is a mitzvah for a Jewish girl to perform oral sex on the President of the United States, even the usually laid-back members of Congregation 90210 were shocked: "As an American and a Jew, I feel it is my duty to earn my presidential knee-pads," the fiery young Monica bellowed from the bimah. "What better way," she went on, even as the cantor tried to interrupt her with a spontaneous round of Adon Olam, "to show the world the strength of the Jewish community, than to literally have the president's nuts in my fist."
At that, the rabbi jumped up and tried to drag Monica away from the microphone, but there was no stopping the precociously buxom brunette now. "Aunt Edna, I'm so happy you could come all the way from Florida to be with me on this special day. You always taught me to be assertive and to eat well. God willing, I'll take your teachings with me into the White House one day. The president might not taste as good as your strudel, but for the sake of the Jewish people, I'll taste traif. Did Queen Esther stop to worry about kashrut when she planned the banquet that would ensnare Haman? Grandma Bertha, I also want to thank you for coming all the way from Florida. You always taught me to believe in my ability to touch people. I hope to touch as many members of the Jewish and non-Jewish communities as possible in years to come.²
That night, at her party at the Ritz Carlton, Monica danced the hora and hugged her great aunts and uncles. I waited for a chance to get her alone, then asked her if she was really planning to do all those things with the president.
"Of course," she said.
"But why?"
"Because it will be good for the Jews. It will save us from our enemies."
"But how do you know the Jewish people will be in trouble?"
"Sam," she responded in a serious tone, "look at the history of our people. Find me a time when we have not had someone who was not trying to murder us. We know tsoris, Sam. It's part of being a Jew."
"And you think fellating the President of the United States is the answer?"
"No, it's not a permanent solution. But the Messiah will come soon and we won't have to worry anymore."
"And what if he never comes?" I asked.
Monica leaned forward and placed her mouth close to my ear. "Believe me," she whispered, "if I have any say in the matter, he'll come."
Monica, if you're reading this, I now believe.
Sam Apple is a senior at the University of Michigan.