By Annie Korzen, Special to JTNews
Every single presidential candidate has said that they find comfort in prayer. This makes me very nervous. My feeling is: when you see a politician praying, someone, somewhere, is going to be killed. Likewise, I’m always uncomfortable when some Oscar winner thanks God before they go on to thank their agents. What kind of God cares about giving prizes to rich people?
So I’m not a person of faith. I wasn’t brought up with it. My parents totally rejected the old customs, like those early pioneers in Israel who would not allow any rabbi to enter the kibbutz. I guess a lot of Jews felt, after the Holocaust, that God had cruelly abandoned them. My mother would say, “If there is a God, I don’t like him.”
The funny thing is, I may not be religious, but it’s very clear how the world sees me. I look Jewish, I talk Jewish, and when I walk into a room, someone always greets me with, “Dollink! You’re here! Mazel tov! Enjoy!” The last person who did that was a Chinese friend, who ought to know better.
And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve lost out on a job because they thought I was “too Jewish.” Even when I wanted to read for the role of a rabbi, the director only saw Gentile actresses, because he wanted to make sure the character was “likeable.”
So I guess I’m what you call a “secular Jew,” which means I believe in the traditional cultural values of family, education, and civic responsibility. I also believe in the traditional cultural values of eating out, going to the theater and bargain-shopping. What I don’t believe in is the Bible.
Now I have to acknowledge that, agnostic as I am, I like when the Dalai Lama talks about compassion and forgiveness. (And then he always giggles, have you noticed that? For a man who’s never had sex, he is one happy puppy.) And I like when The New Testament talks about turning your swords into farm tools. So I keep searching for a way to bring spirituality into my life, without sacrificing my intelligence.
Finally, I came across a little book by Isaac Bashevis Singer. It was called A Day of Pleasure, and it consisted of lyrical sketches of Jewish life in Poland before the war. The book was a celebration of love, tolerance and humanity. Reading it was an act of purification. It was cleansing. It was cathartic. It was everything I’d always imagined a deeply religious experience must feel like. I suppose it’s the way Mel Gibson felt while making The Passion of the Christ.
Then I was invited to a formal Catholic wedding, and I cried myself silly when the bride and groom each held a burning torch and then simultaneously lit one huge candle, the new flame symbolizing their union. I’m a sucker for that stuff, and I realized that in addition to spirituality and exalted language, what I crave most of all is ritual.
So last Passover, for the first time in my life, I decided to make a seder. I was drawn to the idea of people gathering together to recite lofty thoughts, and sing inspiring songs, and, of course, to reward ourselves with lots of good stuff to eat and drink. I guess it’s the religious person’s equivalent of dinner and a show. Anyway, Passover is a holiday about freedom, and that’s a good enough subject for anybody to celebrate. So I invited a bunch of friends — some Jewish, some not — and I started making my plans.
First, and maybe most important: the menu. The traditional Eastern European seder is one color: gray. Gray gefilte fish, gray matzoh ball soup and gray brisket, with potato pudding, or “kugel,” that’s crispy brown on the outside and — you guessed it — gray on the inside.
Now I love this stuff, but I didn’t want to torture the Gentiles — well, not these Gentiles — so I found some terrific Sephardic recipes from Spain, Portugal and North Africa. We had chicken with dates, and spicy eggplant, and cous-cous with currants and scallions. I also brought in a few potato kugels from the local Russian deli for those of us who needed a touch of grayness.
We took turns reading from a non-traditional Hippie Haggadah called “The Peace Seder,” which includes writings by Gandhi, Martin Luther King and Allen Ginsburg, and we sang “Let My People Go” along with “Dayenu.”
There were some awkward moments. A Danish friend had a little too much wine and got up and sang a rousing Scandinavian drinking song. Not really an appropriate choice for a semi-religious celebration. And a couple set up on a blind date hated each other at first sight and asked not to sit together. Then one guy turned out to be somewhere to the right of Rush Limbaugh, which was not appreciated by the rest of the crowd.
But everyone still managed to have a good time, and one of my girlfriends, who’s African-American, said she’d like to host the seder this year. She loved the opening prayer, which says, “Let all the human family sit at Your table, drink the wine of deliverance, and eat the bread of freedom.” And if, like me, you’ve never in your life uttered a prayer, I’d say that’s a pretty good one to start with.
Actress, comedian and commentator Annie Korzen has appeared on NPR, played Doris Klompus on “Seinfeld,” and has toured three continents with her solo show, “Yenta Unplugged.”