Esther Kustanowitz: September 2006 Archives

Single Jewish women (and their mothers) are supposed to experience a Pavlovian drool reaction to the presence of doctors, but I never went thusly gaga, not even for television doctors. And while I do admit that Clooney was cute, this whole "Grey's Anatomy" McDreamy nonsense over the admittedly adorable Patrick Dempsey wasn't a reason for me to watch. I already had "ER," so my triage rooms were all occupied. And what kind of hospital in a major city doesn't seem to have any Jewish doctors, anyway?

But friends I trusted loved "Grey's Anatomy"--so I gave it a whirl. The format--young doctors dodging barbs from demanding residents and struggling to make it in a hospital--was familiar from other television shows, but the characters are innovative enough to keem me coming back, with each episode peeling back a layer of complexity for the residents of Seattle Grace.

In last night's episode, the first of Season 3, Izzy--devastated by the death of her heart-transplant patient turned love-of-her-life Denny--lay prostrate on the floor of her bathroom as her friends stood outside and debated who should attempt the impossible task of consoling her. Meredith was making sandwiches, because it's what you do when people die. "You mean like shiva," asks Christina Yang (Sandra Oh).

What? Yang reveals that her family is Jewish, so they sit shiva.

"Tell me about shiva," says Izzy from her prone position on the bathroom floor, engaging in conversation for the first time since her fiancee/patient passed away. "It's supposed to help with your grieving," said Yang, explaining that they sat shiva for her grandmother for seven days, offering a detailed--and accurate--description of the traditions of this seven-day Jewish mourning period.

This marks my first awareness that Yang is Jewish, and I wonder what kind of impact that added layer will have on her character's story arcs over the course of the upcoming season.

An hour and a channel flip later, I'm watching "ER," where Estelle Harris (who will forever be known to many as "George Costanza's mother") shows up as the mother of the burly reception manager Jerry Markovic (Abraham Benrubi, who's been with the show on and off since 1994) and starts talking at him with "oy veys" and calling him "sheyneh punim" (beautiful face). So suddenly, another Jewish character is outed on a medical drama--this time by his loud, abrasive cliche of a Yiddishism-spitting Jewish mother.

I found myself again wishing for TiVo, so I could rewatch those scenes for intimations of future plotlines, how Jewish tradition might impact story and character development. But most often, a Jewish television character is just Jewish culturally, making the perfunctory remark about how he or she observes Hanukkah, not Christmas, right before joining in the caroling chorus. And unless there's a Jewish patient, or until Hanukkah rolls round again, we forget that the distinction was even made.

On "ER," it's unlikely that Jerry's religion will become a storyline, but on "Grey's," it has a chance--the show never misses an opportunity to raise the stakes for each character, adding layers of complexity and nuance in characters as distinct from one another as they are interdependent and complementary.

"My Name is Earl" kicked off its anticipated second season by pairing two of the show's most distinctive characters--the eponymous amends-seeking hero, played by Jason Lee and his moustache, and his insufferably white-trash bitch of a wife, played by Jaime Pressly and her six-pack abs. The task: #183 on Earl's list, "I never took Joy's side." Earl decides to support the next decision Joy makes--which, unfortunately, is inspired by an episode of Britney and Kevin's reality show.

Joy sees that Britney and Kevin have a giant, disappearing TV, and she wants--no, she deserves--one too. So she manages to save up the $3000 and buys one, but it's too big for her trailer home. She tries to return it, but because the item number on the receipt was ruined, the clerk won't accept the return. She swears she's going to get her money back, no matter what she has to do. On her way out of the store, she encounters a delivery truck with the keys in the ignition and steals it with the intent to sell it for her $3000. It falls to Earl to help her sell the truck, which unbeknownst to our flawed protagonists, has a man in the back, effectively making the pair kidnappers as well. Throughout, Joy is unyielding in her beliefs: She is owed her money back, and if she can't t get it back from the store, the universe/life owes it to her.

In a show already steeped with lessons about the circular nature of karma, this episode additionally highlights the subjective morality of circumstance. If life owes us, to what lengths may we go to attain what should be ours? Is a crime of principle--"like when Rosa Parks stole that bus," Joy points out--justified if it achieves what is "right?"

Joy also appeals to her ex's devotion to his list of atonement items, claiming that since he never supported her in the past, he needs to do so now. As the escapade escalates, Earl finally has to admit that he's supported her as far as he could, and that he is going to opt out of continuing to be an accessory to Joy's single-minded pursuit of what she considers justice. In her mind, Joy thinks she's no different from that "Robin Hood, Batman, Jesus stuff." Earl says he doesn't know about Jesus and Batman, but that stealing from the rich to help the poor did sound like it was up Robin Hood's alley.

"Why do bad things always happen to good people?" Joy wonders after the inadvertent hostage runs into a tree, which adds assault to the mounting list of charges against her. But Joy is not a creature of depth and nuance. She is a simpleton, but doesn't seem to understand that society has rules that she must adhere to.

But when we consider that Joy got into this whole mess because she thought Britney and Kevin were like royalty and the Federlinean lifestyle was worth emulating, we also have to ask ourselves who our role models are and why. The image of having a TV larger than your means and circumstances allow is a salient metaphor for the undue emphasis that we put on place on celebrities and television in general, and provokes us to think about what entertainment makes us think about, while we're enjoying that very same entertainment. It's very meta.

Innovative jazz musician John Zorn is having a good month--he's won two prizes, though most people only know about one of them. Even hardcore Zorn fans may not know that the jazz musician and founder/CEO of Tzadik Records took the prize for Best Blend of Jazz and Heritage at the Oyhoo Jewish Music and Culture Festival at the Jewish Music Awards ceremony, held earlier this month in Manhattan. And then, this week Zorn was named a winner of the MacArthur Foundation Genius Grant. Coincidence? (Well, since none of the other JMA winners were also MacArthur Fellows, yes, definitely a coincidence.)

The 25 MacArthur Fellows will each receive $500,000 in "no-strings-attached" funds, to be paid over five years by The John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation, a private, independent grantmaking institution dedicated to helping groups and individuals foster lasting improvement in the human condition. While I've never had $100,000 a year in no-strings income, I bet that would improve my human condition.

Tzadik Records, which Zorn helms, is a force for the unusual and avant garde in many genres, not just the "adventurous recordings bringing Jewish identity and culture into the 21st century," which the Hebrew label name--which translates to "Righteous"--evokes. The New Japan division provides "breathtaking, genre-busting music from the new Japanese underground," while Oracles celebrates "the diversity and creativity of women in experimental music making." And according to the website, "Tzadik's Lunatic Fringe series excavates the inner most views from some of the outermost reaches of human creativity, bringing to lightsome of the most intense creative acts of our time."

In addition to the new music that Tzadik produces, it also offers special editions of albums. For example, if you were seeking a special limited edition of Hemophiliac's self-titled album--and let's face it, who isn't?--you'd want to visit Tzadik Records. In their "special editions" section, you'd learn that such an item was available, featuring tracks like "Edema" and "Stretch Marks." Sadly, such items don't last. Even though the disc was sold only through two websites--Tzadik and Ipecac Recordings (whose slogan is--I'm not kidding--"Making People Sick Since 1999"), if you don't already have one, you missed it, since the set is now sold out.

Zorn's prize did not go unnoticed by Stephen Colbert, who, still smarting from his Emmy loss to Barry Manilow, decried the MacArthur Foundation's decision on Wednesday's show. Playing a clip of Zorn's unique--and, some might say, atonal--music, Colbert pulled out a top hat and cane and pretended to sitting-down-tapdance to it. Clearly Colbert felt shafted, and after his segment, in which he systematically insulted the awardees, stretched his hand out to the camera and said,"Genius Grant, please..." If only it were up to the Colbert Nation, Stephen, if only.

St. Francis Church in Macon, GA, is putting a stake through the heart of boring adult education classes, while providing pop culture aficionados with a learning opportunity they can really sink their teeth into. Starting this Thursday, the church will launch "The Gospel According to Buffy the Vampire Slayer," an adult-ed class designed to explore the Christian virtues portrayed in the show. The Macon Telegraph reports:

"It's the most artistic and literate program that's been on TV in 10 years, maybe ever," [series co-teacher and self-proclaimed "Buffy junkie" Buzz] Tanner said. "Spiritually, Buffy's virtues are Christian, though it would be hard to say Buffy is a Christian. The show deals with good and evil, right and wrong."

"It's about helping people not be so uptight about their religion," said John Mark Parker, pastoral assistant at St. Francis. "One of things we want people to do is look for themes that reflect what they experience in their faith.... It's really about creating dialogue."

The group will watch an episode each week, and then discuss the episode's spiritual lessons over soft drinks, popcorn, and beer. (As Buffy might have said, "Beer... foamy... good." Of course, that was right before she said, "Beer bad..." but one can assume that with church supervision, they'll stop at "foamy... good" before getting to "beer... bad.") Garlic necklaces and wooden stakes are apparently optional.

Members of the class are being encouraged to read "What Would Buffy Do?: Vampire Slayer as Spiritual Guide," and discussion will continue on a special blog. The last class in the eight-week series will take place on Halloween, when participants will be encouraged to dress as their favorite "Buffy" character.

Of course, the Macon church class isn't the first analysis of the spiritual side of slayage. Over at Hollywood Jesus, horror writer/environmental toxicologist (yes, really) Maurice Broaddus writes about Buffy, Alias, Stephen King and other bastions of pop culture from a spiritual angle. Idol Chatter's Donna Freitas has made no secret of her spiritual love for all things Buffy. At Slayage.tv lives the online International Journal of Buffy Studies, with articles like "The Evolution of Joss Whedon's Vampire Mythology and the Ontology of the Soul" and others. And the cult of Buffy continues to inspire, as the IFC Film Center in NYC takes a cue from Rocky Horror and serves up midnight shows of the soulful musical episode, in sing-along format.

Still, the best thing about having Buffy classes in church? Abundant crucifixes minimize chances of vampire invasion.

Guy Ritchie, sometimes known these days as Mr. Madonna, recently fell asleep during a Kabbalah meditation service. It's okay, it happens to everyone--we may not be celebrities, but we understand. We're all busy, what with our jujitsu and jetlag and all that living in castles with bodyguards. Not to mention that our wives are constantly under scrutiny from the press and regularly the subject of excommunications and inquisitions declared against us for disrespectful use of religious iconography. At the end of a long week, can we really be expected to engage in meaningful spiritual pursuits?

But instead of laughing good-naturedly at her husband's exhaustion or emergent narcolepsy, like the other worshippers did, Madonna didn't crack a smile, leading gossiphounds to speculate again that adherence to Kabbalah is driving a wedge between the Ritchies.

But according to this article in the Daily Mail, Madonna (who at one point took the "Kabbalah name" of "Esther") may not be long for Kabbalah herself, because she's "said to resent the enormous drain her association with the group has been on her finances" and because "her patience with the religion has become increasingly tested because it has ultimately failed to help her achieve her dream of a brother or sister for nine-year-old Lourdes, her daughter by fitness instructor Carlos Leon, and five-year-old son Rocco by Ritchie." The mail quotes an "associate" of Madonna's as saying, "Madonna looked to Kabbalah for results. She thought her faith would help her get pregnant again, but she is feeling let down."

So for me, as another Esther, approaching the Jewish High Holidays, this begs a re-examination of the role that religion plays in our lives. Most of us are born into a religious structure, and we stay members of that religion--practicing faithfully, sporadically, or not at all--but counted among the numbers for the sake of demographics, at least. Others are seekers--born into a family that worships one way, but find that faith in some way wanting; the seekers leave parental faith behind and try on other faiths until they find one that fits.

Madonna was born Catholic, but found the structure restrictive and her faith severely impacted by the loss of her mother. Disappointed in her traditional faith, she's never missed an opportunity to take a shot at Catholicism through unconventional and often-offensive use of religious symbols in her work. When she embraced Kabbalah, she did so with all her heart and her pocketbook. Now, it seems that because Kabbalah disappointed her by not providing another child, she may leave that behind.

So is the function of religion meant to be results-oriented? Or does having faith mean believing that there's a reason for the things that do and don't happen, even if it's inscrutable? And what of those moments when your partner's spiritual affiliations don't match with your own?

When confronted with all these issues, it's not surprising that the mind and body sometimes choose sleep over spirituality.

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