Alex Edelman: Taking Comedy Seriously: Purim

David Bashevkin:

Hello. Welcome to the 18Forty podcast, where each month, we explore different topic, balancing modern sensibilities with traditional sensitivities, to give you new approaches to timeless Jewish ideas. I’m your host, David Bashevkin. Today we have a special episode exploring humor and Purim, of course.

This podcast is part of a larger exploration of those big, juicy Jewish ideas. Be sure to check out 18Forty.org. That’s 1-8-F-O-R-T-Y.org, where you can also find videos, articles, recommended readings, and weekly emails.

This is a strange time to be recording a Purim episode. We’re about to enter a holiday which really celebrates silliness, upside-downness humor, laughter, this mishenichnas adar marbim b’simcha, the entering of the month of Adar. Even the very month is supposed to increase in joy. Yet when you look around, there is a strange incongruity.

We have issues going on in the world. We are recording this in March, 2022. Russia has invaded Ukraine. There is a sense of forebodingness where the world is really at the edge of their seats. It seems like a strange time to be discussing, thinking about anything joyous. In many ways, it’s an apt time to reflect on the limitations and opportunities of comedy itself.

I’ve long considered myself… I’ve mentioned many times before on this podcast, that I am a student of late-night television. Included within late-night television, we’ve spoken about Conan, and Jay, and even Letterman, and all the other greats. Included within the late-night television is Saturday Night Live. I’ve said many times that I consider Lorne Michaels kind of a rebbe of sorts, and how to be a rebbe, and how to spot and nurture talent.

My own rebbe, Rabbi Moshe Benovitz of NCSY Kollel, a summer program that NCSY runs… He was my rebbe in high school. I sometimes jokingly call him the Lorne Michaels of chinuch, of Jewish education, in his ability to kind of spot out emerging talent of people who have gone through his summer program and gone on to all of these incredible leadership positions.

There’s something really remarkable about Saturday Night Live and how it’s evolved over many, many generations. Everybody, of course, loves the Saturday Night Live. Lorne Michaels has said that everybody’s favorite era of Saturday Night Live is the one that they were in high school. There are a lot of reasons why people hate Saturday Night Live now. They love to hate it. They love to talk about it.

One of the things in Saturday Night Live that I always find very interesting is their opening montage, where there’s always an opening skit. Then all of a sudden, they break from the script, and they say, “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night Live.”

Adam Sandler:

Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night.

David Bashevkin:

It’s kind of this signature piece of the show. It’s changed the opening. The only thing that’s actually stayed the same on the show is the outro music. Everything else on the show has evolved. One thing that I’ve always found interesting is how Saturday Night Live reacts when there is trauma going on in the world. I’ve actually found it, on many occasions, to be incredibly moving.

I think most famously, their opening monologue in their first episode following September 11th, there was a hesitance, like, is this something that we can still do, to get up, and make jokes, and talk about silliness and all this ridiculousness? Can we still do that in this world after September 11th? It was quite a famous monologue where they had the mayor of New York City at the time, Mayor Rudy Giuliani, in dialogue with Lorne Michaels.

Lorne Michaels:

On behalf of everyone here, I just want to thank you all for being here tonight, and especially you, Mr. Mayor.

Rudy Giuliani:

Thank you, Lorne. Thank you very much. Having our city’s institutions up and running sends a message that New York City is open for business. Saturday Night Live is one of our great New York City institutions. That’s why it’s important for you to do your show tonight.

Lorne Michaels:

Can we be funny?

Rudy Giuliani:

Why start now?

Lorne Michaels:

Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night.

David Bashevkin:

It was a really poignant opening. The joke happened to have worked. It really kind of broke the ice in a way: Why start now? It allowed people to begin creating a window for humor to enter their lives.

I watched closely to how Saturday Night Live dealt with the introduction in the first episode after the war broke out in Ukraine, of how they would handle it. It was actually incredibly moving. They had this opening montage where instead of a skit, instead of live from New York, instead, they had a choir, a Ukrainian choir, kind of sing a song together.

Cecily Strong:

Ladies and gentlemen, the Ukrainian Chorus Dumka of New York.

Ukrainian Chorus Dumka of New York:

(Singing).

Kate McKinnon:

Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night.

David Bashevkin:

It was a poignant way to kind of create a window that, even with all this suffering going on in the world, we can have this window, this entry point, to bring joy and laughter into our lives without making light, so to speak, of the suffering and pain in the world, but there is a universe where these two things can coexist.

It’s something that I personally struggle with. I am fairly active online on social media, most notably on Twitter. When these things break out… These are mistakes that I’ve made and things that I’ve had to navigate. I remember on January 6th, when they went into the Capitol, when it first started, I didn’t totally know what was going on.

I made a meme out of one of the things that was happening. It was definitely wrong. It was a mistake. Somebody reached out to me and said, “Now is not the time for your cute, little jokes. There’s something very real happening.” To diminish something very real, to diminish something that’s bringing a lot of suffering is not something I ever want be guilty of.

I remember after that day, I took a three-day break. I said, “I don’t really have the words to process what’s going on right now. I don’t want to memeify a very serious moment for our country.” In a similar way, I’ve been fairly careful during this entire episode. There’s war breaking out. There are refugees. There are people suffering. This isn’t a time for me, personally, at least, people need to memeify what is going on. They don’t need silly captions.

They need our financial support. They need our donations. They need our prayers, our tefillos. They need help in so many other ways. At the same time, it can feel claustrophobic, like there’s no way to talk about anything. When you feel that claustrophobia, it’s very hard to be funny about anything, quite frankly.

The one thing that I did share… I wish I could show it to you. You can go onto my Twitter account. It’s a very funny picture. I don’t know where it’s from. It might be from some episode, or it’s Photoshop. There was this picture of Darth Vader leading a group of stormtroopers. Among the stormtroopers, just out of the blue, you see Big Bird from Sesame Street among the stormtroopers, being led by Darth Vader.

I looked at that picture with Darth Vader and all of the dark side, stormtroopers, all this darkness, and Big Bird, this big, fluffy, yellow bird in the middle, I said, “This is kind of what it must feel like ushering in Purim in the month of Adar, with the entire world in absolute and utter chaos.” There’s something that’s extraordinarily out of place.

There’s also something very moving about this incongruity, about these distinctions. There’s something deeply poignant and almost emblematic of humor itself in noticing this incongruity. The philosopher, Arthur Schopenhauer, in his book, The World as Will and Idea, actually develops a theory of what makes something funny.

He writes as follows, “The cause of laughter in every case is simply the sudden perception of the incongruity between a concept and the real objects, which has been thought through it in some relation. Laughter itself is just the expression of this incongruity.”

According to Schopenhauer… In many ways, this is reflected in the writings of the Maharal and other Jewish thinkers. Laughter is kind of noticing and highlighting deep incongruities when you see a businessman who’s wearing an extraordinarily fancy suit, and he’s looking all self-important.

As he’s rushing into some very important meeting, suddenly slips on a banana peel. It’s a classic scene that is going to evoke laughter because of that incongruity of the self-importance of the businessman and the silliness of slipping on a banana peel.

If you would imagine that same exact scene, but instead of the businessman, it would be somebody who is downtrodden, broken, tsebrakhn, just really not 100%. They slip on a banana peel. Nobody’s going to laugh. There’s no incongruity there. There’s no dissonance. There’s no surprise that is going to be filled with laughter.

In many ways, what Purim is as a whole is noticing that larger incongruity in the world. It’s not just Purim. I think there is a rich tradition in Jewish history to be able to stare at darkness and suffering and find even within in that deep incongruity, in the very absurdity of suffering and pain itself, to find a point where Purim can shed light and bring laughter.

Our friend and a member of the 18Forty team, Yehuda Fogel, who sends out our weekly emails… He runs our social media. He was actually on that episode when we had him and Denah discussing reader feedback. He’s an incredible thinker, and he is really wonderful on social media. He has a social media account where he is @YehudaHaMaccabi. That’s Y-E-H-U-D-A, HaMaccabi, H-A-M-A-C-C-A-B-I.

This Yehuda Fogel who works with us on 18Forty had an absolutely incredible thread, which showed pictures of Jews following the Holocaust in a DP camp in Landsberg, Germany, where survivors almost put on Purim spiels to process their pain from the Holocaust. Survivors made a mock grave for Haman and Hitler on Purim.

It’s really remarkable. He has these pictures that he posted on Twitter. I think they’re from some photo archive that I’m sure you could find online. It has a tombstone that I can actually read for you.

On the top of the tombstone, there’s a swastika. Then underneath are the classic letters that are on many Jewish tombstones, peh–nun, which is an acronym for “poh nitman.” Here is buried. Underneath it, it writes, Tzorerei HaYehudim, the oppressor of the Jewish people, Haman ben Hammedatha. Haman who is featured, of course, in the Megillah, we read on Purim. Then underneath, it is written in Hebrew, alef–dalet–alef–lamed–peh, Adolf, he–yod–tes–lamed–ayin–resh. “Adolf Hitler.”

There is this mock grave site that they made out of cardboard. There’s almost a absurdity, a silliness, dare I say, in the way that they are processing their own pain and suffering. In Buchenwald, there is a picture of this too. They had an effigy of Hitler hanging outside of the bunker. There were people in those DP camps who actually dressed up as a zombified, a postmortem, a humiliated Hitler.

It’s just remarkable where you see these pictures of young children, probably in the late 1940s, maybe early 1950s. I don’t have an exact date. You do see pictures of young children, dressing up that Purim, in a DP camp, in the shadow of the Holocaust, still found a way with all of that incongruity, maybe because of that incongruity, to find a window to celebrate Purim.

This very notion of looking at incongruity and the humor, which emerges from incongruity as a window, an expression of Jewish humor, is famously satired in that wonderful Seinfeld episode that I think we must have quoted once before. It’s so good. How could we not quote it again? It’s the great Bryan Cranston starring as the character, Tim Whatley, who converts to Judaism. Jerry is concerned that he converted because of the jokes.

Jerry Seinfeld:

Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Dr. Whatley. I have a suspicion that he’s converted to Judaism purely for the jokes.

Father Curtis:

This offends you as a Jewish person?

Jerry Seinfeld:

No, it offends me as a comedian.

David Bashevkin:

Jerry finally confronts him as his dentist, Tim Whatley, is working on his teeth. He wonders, “You’ve been a Jew for five minutes already. Should you be making Jewish jokes already?”

Dr. Whatley:

Which reminds me, did you hear the one about the rabbi and the farmer’s daughter, huh? Those aren’t matzo balls. What?

Jerry Seinfeld:

Tim, do you think you should be making jokes like that?

Dr. Whatley:

Why not? I’m Jewish, remember?

Jerry Seinfeld:

I know, but-

Dr. Whatley:

Jerry, it’s our sense of humor that sustained us as a people for 3,000 years.

Jerry Seinfeld:

5,000.

Dr. Whatley:

5,000, even better. Chrissie, give me a shtickle of flouride.

Jerry Seinfeld:

Then he asked the assistant for a shtickle of fluoride.

Elaine Benes:

Why are you so concerned about this?

Jerry Seinfeld:

I’ll tell you why. Because I believe Whatley converted to Judaism just for the jokes.

David Bashevkin:

But this is really part of a long historical conversation that is about how Jews use humor to talk about antisemitism and, more largely, how humor is used, and if humor should be used at all to confront pain and suffering.

I think for me personally, when I am the witness of enduring current suffering, what’s going on in Ukraine that’s happening right now, I don’t have the privilege, the responsibility, the allowance to use humor to talk about this because they’re suffering right in front of me.

The distinction that I make in my own life is that I would use humor to process my own suffering. I’m not going to use humor to process somebody else’s suffering. This is a larger question that’s really happening of this moment about the use of humor, specifically, not just to deal with suffering in general, but to talk about antisemitism.

There was an absolutely wonderful article in the New York Times called “Is It Funny for the Jews?” That was written by Jason Zinoman. It was published on February 17th, 2022. This was about a cultural critic, which Jason is.

He said a sense of humor is integral to his Jewish identity, but these dark times raise existential questions about comedy and its uses. The question is, is it appropriate to be processing, talking about antisemitism, to be talking about something that is so real going on right now?

We see it in videos, Jews getting beaten up on the streets, hostage crises taking place in Texas, Jews getting murdered because of their identity. Is there any room to even discuss this through a lens of humor? As he writes in the article, there is a long, rich Jewish tradition of grappling with antisemitism by laughing at it.

This has produced a vast amount of great comedy from Mel Brooks turning Nazis into musical theater buffoons in the producers to Sacha Baron Cohen in character as Borat, leading the denizens of a Southern bar and singing, “Throw the Jews down the well.” There’s a sensibility behind these jokes that I grew up around and have long embraced.

“Some artists argue,” the article continues, “that making light of prejudice or turning purveyors of it into absurdities robs hatred of power. I’ve been persuaded by that idea. Like many secular types, a Jewish sense of humor is more integral to my identity than any religious observance. It’s also a source of pride. A resilient comic sensibility that finds joy in dark places is one of the greatest Jewish legacies as is an ability to laugh at ourselves.”

He pauses for a moment. He says, “There’s been growing pushback in the last year from some Jews about double standards in the cultural conversation. Whether or not when we depict Jews and use humor in these ways are we reinforcing certain stereotypes that actually prevent a more redemptive, prevent that agency that the Jewish people rightfully deserve from us as a people actually taking hold of it.”

He highlights two artists who actually take a very different approach to this. The article continues. I’m reading a little bit further on. “For Jews like myself, with family photos featuring relatives murdered in the Holocaust, this point stopped me cold, the notion that maybe not everything merits a joke.”

There are signs of a new, more sober attitude towards antisemitism among younger Jewish artists. The 26-year-old Hannah Einbinder… She is an actress and comedian. She stars in this HBO show Hacks. I’m not going to confirm or have any spoilers, whether or not she makes a brief cameo on this very episode, because she may or may not be dating the person who we’re about to speak to.

No spoilers. He does quote from the wonderful, absolutely lovely Hannah Einbinder. The 26-year-old Hannah Einbinder who has integrated a long Hebrew prayer into her stand-up set has said she stayed off Twitter in part because of antisemitism and always wears a Star of David necklace, which I’ve always found so, so moving, the artists who have taken a greater, more public stance in promoting and highlighting their own Jewish identity.

Then he gets to the person who we’re speaking with today, and that is the comic, Alex Edelman. He writes, “The comic, Alex Edelman, who’s just 32, built his extremely funny off-Broadway show, Just For Us, around visiting a white nationalist meeting in Queens, having conversations with antisemites that eventually culminate in confrontation. His show is poignantly pessimistic about the ability of comedy to combat bigotry.”

I think in many ways, in this moment that we are in right now, when the world seems to be aflame in chaos and we’re all kind of quietly, collectively wondering, what does it mean to have a Purim? What does it mean to be joyful in the face of such suffering? There’s nobody that I am more excited to introduce from a comedic perspective than this Alex Edelman, whose entire show, which is having an incredible moment right now… He had a review in the New York Times. He’s mentioned in this article, which is absolutely wonderful.

Again, the article that I read from is, of course, called “Is It Funny for the Jews?” His show, Just For Us, Alex Edelman’s show, Just For Us, just finished a run. He’s going to have a second run in New York City. You want to make sure that you’re able to check that out.

I would urge you to get tickets. He’s having an incredible moment right now. Part of the reason why it makes me so excited is because he’s just like us, like the very title of the show. He’s deeply Jewish. He grew up in the Modern Orthodox community of Brookline, Massachusetts. This was not an easy time to get ahold of Alex.

He has a show that is getting international attention that I know so many people have gone to see. It was sold out every single night. I believe the second run is also going to be sold out. You really want to see this.

Alex has performed. He’s been on television. He performed on Conan. We’ll talk about that opening joke, which is absolutely wonderful, where he says he has tried cocaine, but he’s never had bacon. If you listen very closely, you can hear somebody in the crowd, scream out, “Kol hakavod.”

Alex Edelman:

I’m an Orthodox Jew. I’ve never had bacon. I’m that kind of Jew.

Audience Member:

Kol hakavod.

Alex Edelman:

I’ve never tried bacon. I’ve tried cocaine, but I’ve never tried bacon.

David Bashevkin:

Truly, while I wouldn’t interrupt somebody’s comedy set with that, kol hakavod to everything that Alex Edelman has been talking about and achieving. His show is able to embrace the particularity of his own upbringing and translate it into the universal language of comedy. It’s able to confront something deeply serious like antisemitism and put it into a frame of a one-man comedic show. Someway, somehow, he is able to navigate it.

Dare I say that it is part of his Talmudic upbringing. He may or may not, no spoilers again, give a shout-out to Rabbi Soloveitchik in his very show. It’s that almost Talmudic, dare I say, Brisker methodology, which is known for kind of the bifurcated conceptual categories that they create in the way that they analyze texts. He’s able to almost analyze the moment and bifurcate between suffering and comedy. With his philosophical breadth and comedic spirit, he’s able to contain both.

On a personal note, it’s really remarkable, the different ways that Alex and I have intersected. Lord knows, he was so patient with me and so kind with me because I kept on throwing these personal connections at him, begging him to find a moment. He was so gracious that he did. I’ll just share with you now because it brought a smile to my face, the different ways that our lives have intersected.

I stayed for Shabbos in the Jewish Center in the Upper West Side at a dear… Someone who’s become a friend. His apartment should be turned into a museum, the great Simcha Lyons. I was staying at his house for the weekend. It was the scholar-in-residence. He said, “I have to leave right after Shabbos.” I said, “Where are you going? Into town? Why do you have to leave right away?” He says, “Oh, my closest friend’s son is putting on a comedy show, and me and my wife are going.”

I said, “Who’s that?” He said, “Alex Edelman.” I said, “No way.” I know Alex Edelman because there was a mayoral race in the Five Towns where there was a mudslinging campaign against one of the candidates. His name was Alex Edelman.

The actual Alex Edelman, the one who we’re talking today, actually got in touch with me. He was like, “What is going on in the Five Towns? Why is Alex Edelman all over the news? Can somebody please clarify to the world, and more specifically, the Five Towns, that this is not me?”

We also have a mutual rebbe, a former 18Forty guest. Alex and myself are dear friends and both students, talmidim of sorts, of the great Gary Gulman, who I think, more than anyone else, really blazed a path in being able to confront issues of the utmost importance and the utmost seriousness through a comedic lens, as we spoke about when he was a guest on this show, his work that he’s done about bridging mental health problems, depression, in his wonderful HBO set called The Great Depresh.

You could go back and check us out on 18Forty.org to listen to our conversation with Gary Gulman. Finally, what I didn’t know, but I think he mentions in our conversation, he’s actually chavrusas with a dear friend of mine, who many of our listeners… I forwarded her several emails. Have asked us to have as a future guest on our show. That is the wonderful Sarah Hurwitz who wrote the book Here All Along.

Now Sarah Hurwitz actually is a fairly common name. There are a lot of Sarah Hurwitz’s out there. This is the Sarah Hurwitz who is the former speech writer for Hillary Clinton. She wrote a lovely book called Here All Along. Anytime we put out an interview, we’ve gotten several emails from listeners saying, “You got to have Sarah Hurwitz on.”

I happen to know her quite well. We’ve been in touch really recently. She’s absolutely lovely and wonderful. I was smitten when I heard that her weekly chavrusa is with none other than Alex Edelman.

With everything that he has going on… He has so much going on, so much success. Kol hakavod to him for it. How could he say no with all of these intersections and overlaps in our respective lives? It was so kind and gracious of him, with everything he has going on and with all of his success that he has been seeing, that he gave us a few moments to talk about life, comedy, and the philosophy of comedy, and maybe a lens to understand how to confront even the most serious things in the world with the joyousness that comedy brings.

I think there’s no time better than now to have a discussion with a philosopher, comedian. It is my absolute pleasure to introduce our conversation with Alex Edelman.

One of the things that I’m really fascinated by is… You’ve shared your own religious journey. When you first appeared on Conan, which was a really beautiful moment, you have this great joke about, you’ve never eaten bacon, but you’ve tried cocaine. I remember in that opening moment, somebody in the crowd, I think, screams out, an Israeli, “Yasher koach” or “Chas v’shalom.”

Alex Edelman:

No, they scream, “Kol hakavod.”

David Bashevkin:

Kol Hakavod, in that moment. You kind of talk about all the vicissitudes of your religious journey. I’m curious if you could share a little bit about how your comedic journey, if at all, is intertwined or correlated with your own religious identity.

Alex Edelman:

I think it’s heavily correlated in terms of craft, which is that the viewpoint is Talmudic. I think the strength is that it considers things from places that are not binary. When my work is good, it does that well. When my work is at its most simple, it doesn’t. I think understanding the dark irony of things and sort of understanding the multivalenced perspective can kind of help.

I think it’s been really positive, or I’ve experienced it as a really positive experience. I don’t know. I really enjoy it. I really enjoy the… Sorry. What I mean by enjoying it is I get a lot by translating my upbringing and my viewpoint that comes from that upbringing into my craft. It was a bit of a self-serious answer, but I’m sure you know what I mean.

David Bashevkin:

I love your self-seriousness. It really is profound because you do have a deeply philosophical take in your humor from the very beginning. I’m curious. You grew up in a deeply belly of the beast, a Modern Orthodox home. You give Rabbi Soloveitchik a shout-out in your latest acclaimed special, Just For Us, which I think is going on a second tour.

I’m curious. You took a very unconventional path after a belly of the beast, Modern Orthodox upbringing. Brookline… I think you’re a Maimonides graduate, if I have my facts straight, which I could be getting that wrong. I’m curious. If the rupture from the typical path of someone who was raised in this Brookline, Boston, Modern Orthodox home, what do you attribute the fact that you took such an unconventional journey in development? You didn’t become a doctor or a lawyer like so many of us.

Alex Edelman:

With all due respect, I don’t think that there was ever… Those doors, I don’t think Modern Orthodox people know that those doors are open to them, but those doors were never closed to me. My parents always encouraged me to do something that would give me a parnasah, but also that would let me pursue what I wanted to and also have… My mom once said to me. This is one time, but it was illuminating. She went, “Oh, don’t be trapped behind a desk.”

David Bashevkin:

Wow.

Alex Edelman:

“Find a job where you’re not trapped behind a desk.” I think there’s this conception of Modern Orthodox people as these… There’s one question that I get that’s the stupidest question in the world. I tend to think that there are very few stupid questions. The stupidest question is when… “Your parents are okay with this?” It’s usually from Jews, and it’s astounding.

I just think, “Your poor kids. Your poor kids. Your poor kids that you want… ” Or people say that, but they don’t… If you’re a Modern Orthodox parent listening to this, please don’t try to make your kid to some professional drone. Your kids have the tzechel to make a beautiful living in a way that doesn’t require all this postgraduate work, and especially if they don’t want to do it.

I mean, religiously, there’s been a rupture in the sense that I have to work on Shabbos, and I’m not happy about it. There have been complicated payment arrangements in the past to make it so that I’m not paid for the work on the Shabbos. It’s a really-

David Bashevkin:

Like a youth director in every shul.

Alex Edelman:

Yeah, exactly, or a meal at Russ & Daughters when it was still open at The Jewish Museum, right? It’s just like, oh, it’s kosher.

David Bashevkin:

Sure.

Alex Edelman:

Because we paid on a… Religiously, that’s been challenging. If I ever get to a place where I’m extremely successful, it will mean shows late on Saturday night and no shows Friday night. That’s a longer conversation. Religiously, there’s been that. I haven’t been excited about certain things. There was never any philosophical rupture. My parents were always very pleased with me, doing what I wanted to do. I always answer it patiently because I understand that people live a certain-

David Bashevkin:

It’s so painful for me to hear that you get that question, particularly from Jews. It’s not surprising at all, but it’s kind of that intersection between Orthodoxy, Modern Orthodoxy as a socioeconomic status versus a religious identity.

Alex Edelman:

It’s a silly question, but I understand why people ask it. I understand why people ask it, because people don’t know. People don’t see many Modern Orthodox kids becoming comics. There are friends of mine who have become Jewish comedians, but I don’t like that either, if I’m being honest.

David Bashevkin:

For sure.

Alex Edelman:

I like them. I like them, and they’re funny. They’re good at it, but that’s not for-

David Bashevkin:

Correct. You’ve broken out, which is actually what I wanted to ask you. There’s always this instinctive feeling, particularly within the Modern Orthodox community, which is a very teeny, tiny subset of the larger Orthodox community of the larger Jewish community of the larger religious community.

There’s always this hand-wringing of how we present and tell our story. I find it upsetting sometimes, the level of outrage that people feel when we feel like someone is telling an Orthodox story that doesn’t fit into the norms or the values that we try to uphold or live by. I was wondering if you could give advice to the Modern Orthodox community about how they could better share their stories and values to a wider community.

Alex Edelman:

I mean, I’m in no position to give anyone advice, but I’ll say… I’m not. I’m not. We had a Q and A. The AJC came to the show, and there was a talkback afterwards. First time I’ve ever done a talkback. It was pretty interesting. After the show, one of the last question, which was the best question, is, what is your dream for the future of Judaism? I was like, “Oh my God. Jonathan Sacks is dead. Leave it alone.” Say the question again, David, so I can answer concisely. What’s my advice for the Modern Orthodox community?

David Bashevkin:

Of how to tell their story. I feel like there is a lot of frustration when, a lot of times, the story is told very artfully. I like a lot of them. We’ve had them as guests on our show, people who leave Orthodoxy and then say the story. It feels like you contend with something that’s real and alive while you’re still surrounded by it.

Alex Edelman:

Yeah, I’m still in it. I’m still Modern Orthodox. Well, first of all, we have to understand that Modern Orthodoxy is an extension of Judaism, which is that you’re Jewish. I say in the show that Judaism’s like the Hotel California. It’s the mailing list you can never unsubscribe from.

A Jewish life is a life that is entirely… It’s not optional. That requires some effort on the part of the individual and reckoning with that, but it also requires some effort on the part of the institution and the kehilla in accepting people who maybe have lives, or compulsions, or lifestyles that don’t fit in with… Frankly, in my ideal version of Modern Orthodoxy, it gets its arms around thorny issues that different people within the community find unacceptable. I can feel Modern Orthodox listeners already recoiling.

David Bashevkin:

No, this is great.

Alex Edelman:

I think that the Judaism that I dream of is one that doesn’t sacrifice, that is still deeply rooted in traditional values, but is equipped to deal with modern challenges. You need to deal with the fact that female rabbis is something that the Orthodox community or Modern Orthodox community needs to reckon with.

I worry that more conservative elements of the… I say that not politically. I mean, religiously. More conservative elements of the Jewish spectrum has abandoned inclusion to the liberal elements. I worry that the liberal elements has abandoned rigorousness to the more conservative elements, if that makes sense.

David Bashevkin:

That is actually quite profound. I think I’m asking a different question. I know we’re tight on time. I’m wondering if you could really-

Alex Edelman:

No, go ahead.

David Bashevkin:

How did you figure out how to share your particularity, the specificity of a Modern Orthodox upbringing?

Alex Edelman:

The specific is universal. Everyone has a background that they feel beholden to. There’s a line in Jackie Mason’s show that was quoted in this article in the New York Times a few weeks ago, that he said, “Non-Jews walk out of my show and go, ‘It’s a hit.’ Jews walk out of my show and go, ‘It’s too Jewish.’”

Our experience is a universal experience. The movie, My Big Fat Greek Wedding… Every culture looked at that movie and was like, “That’s my Jewish wedding. That’s my Indian family. That’s my Malaysian cousins.”

The Modern Orthodox story is very… About the tension between traditional and modern, that’s a universal story. The question about assimilation in the United States, that’s a universal story. It’s not just us. Our stories, every personal story, including and especially Orthodox, Modern Orthodox ones, have great valence to… One of my favorite books is the book, My Name Is Asher Lev, by Chaim Potok.

David Bashevkin:

Sure.

Alex Edelman:

It’s this incredible book about a Hasidic child who wants to be an artist. Tom Hanks, on Alan Alda’s podcast, said it was his favorite book. Lin-Manuel Miranda has talked repeatedly about how he desperately wanted to adapt it before Hamilton, who now I assume Lin-Manuel Miranda’s rather busy. Someone said to me, “How does Lin-Manuel Miranda… How can you connect to My Name Is Asher Lev?”

I said, “Oh, you mean the guy who’s the son of a proud community organizer and maybe one of the most prominent… ” Lin-Manuel Miranda’s father was and remains one of the most influential Puerto Ricans in the United States. His son wanted to be a slam poet. I think he probably can understand a book about a Hasidic kid whose father is a very important emissary for the Lubavitcher Rebbe and decides that he wants to be an artist. Sorry, that’s a long example.

David Bashevkin:

No, it’s bullseye. The universality of specificity of the particular is what you really do so masterfully on your show. I’m curious. I know for myself, I’m not a big-time comedian. Most of my jokes are shared on Twitter or in the pages… I don’t write for them anymore. Once upon a time, in the pages of Mishpacha magazine, I wrote a humor column. I’m curious. How did you discover that you were funny? Was it the normal Sheva Brachos aufruf speeches? How did you discover you were good at this?

Alex Edelman:

I’ve given a few funny bar mitzvah speeches, but I didn’t do… By the way, I didn’t-

David Bashevkin:

You weren’t the go-to aufruf speaker? I don’t believe that.

Alex Edelman:

I wasn’t. I’m telling you though. I perform now at Sheva Brachoses and things like that. I don’t do the business that Modi does. I’ll say this. I never thought that I was funny. I’m not a tummler. It’s one of those things where… Gary Gulman has said this too. It’s a craft, and you work at it.

90% of being a comedian, to me, is being a decent editor, knowing what’s funny and what’s not funny in real time. A lot of that comes from experience, and taste, and tact, and understanding the relationship between tension and release. When I was a kid, I had a really wonderful boss at the Red Sox. I worked at the Red Sox as a kid. I wrote the kid’s newsletter and did some PR stuff.

David Bashevkin:

Super cool job.

Alex Edelman:

It was a really cool job. It was wonderful. I had this boss named Larry Lucchino, who is this Italian-American guy from Pittsburgh, from Squirrel Hill. I haven’t spoken to him in a couple of weeks. We used to speak really, really frequently, and we still do, actually, but I’ve lapsed the last few weeks because I’ve been so busy.

Larry found me funny pretty early on and, as a kid, really gave me lots of credit. My grandfather, my papa, was very funny. My grandmother was very funny. I was raised in a house where that was a currency. It wasn’t the currency. Wisdom was the currency. I think having that, there was an abundance of good cheer in my grandparents’ home in Boston, growing up. To a lesser extent, but still a central extent, my parents’ home. They valued comedy, and they valued it in the right way, which was a demonstration of intellect and a demonstration of good attitude.

Sometimes I demur when people ask me, “When did you first know you were funny?” because I don’t feel like I ever have been like, “Ah, I’m funny now.” I can say that I knew that it was really important growing up. Sorry. I’d say I’m a little emotional. My grandfather was this wonderful man who just passed away at the end of December.

David Bashevkin:

His neshama should have an aliyah.

Alex Edelman:

Thank you.

David Bashevkin:

Let me actually ask something. It’s similar to the question that I led with. I’m hoping you can shed light on it. I hope it’s not one of the questions that you absolutely hate.

Alex Edelman:

There are very few. There are very few.

David Bashevkin:

Let’s see if this is on your short list. You have a trajectory at a level of success on the wider scale that few people growing up in the Modern Orthodox world have achieved in the media space. Meaning, we have plenty of doctors, scientists, politicians, all sorts of stuff.

Very few have achieved this in the world of media. Thank God, especially as of late. I mean, you’ve been on Conan years ago. You’ve been on television. As of late, the attention you’ve gotten for your special is something really remarkable.

I think a lot of people who would be on that level of attention, publicity, opportunity… It would inversely affect or deleteriously affect their religious identity. I’m curious. What do you attribute the resiliency of your upbringing, religious identity, that you haven’t… I’m going to say it very bluntly. You haven’t just left. I mean, there’s so much opportunity. There’s so much that you-

Alex Edelman:

You can’t leave, David. There’s no way to leave. There’s no way to go. By the way, I truly believe that if you say you’re Modern Orthodox, you’re Modern Orthodox. Sometimes people come up to me after shows, they go, “You don’t wear a yarmulke. You’re not Modern Orthodox.” I just go, “Okay, fine.”

My thinking and reading is around Martin Buber’s I–Thou relationship with God and Soloveitchik’s Lonely Man of Faith. I have chavrusa with our mutual friend, Sarah Hurwitz, every week. My home is a Jewish home in the sense that it’s filled with conversation about this. If I eat bacon… I’ve never had bacon as the joke’s been quoted, said.

David Bashevkin:

Sure.

Alex Edelman:

If I eat bacon-wrapped Torah scrolls, 10 meals a day, and picked my teeth with a Ner Tamid… If you think you’re Modern Orthodox, you’re Modern Orthodox.

David Bashevkin:

Sounds like a Modern Orthodox aristocrat’s joke just now, that you-

Alex Edelman:

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s a very specific thing. There’s no way to leave. I don’t fully understand. Wait. If someone says to me, “I’m not Modern Orthodox anymore,” in the back of my mind, I go, “Okay, what’s your relationship like with yourself? What’s your relationship like with your… “

It’s one of those things where I can be a Modern Orthodox Jew who’s not even sure that he believes in God and is still firmly in the tradition of Modern Orthodoxy. I get your question. Your question is, how have you not internally… Because audiences respect emotional honesty that they can identify with and authenticity that they can identify with. Working with Mike Birbiglia, just a little bit of totally…. Mike Birbiglia who’s producing my show is-

David Bashevkin:

Huge fan of his.

Alex Edelman:

He’s the master of the form in American solo show comedy. He is the unquestioned… He’s a gadol hador in this. He really is though. I say that to him sometimes. He has no idea what the (beep) I’m talking about. Pardon my language, by the way. You can bleep that, if you like, or cut it.

David Bashevkin:

I’ll bleep that in case your rabbeim listen. Don’t worry.

Alex Edelman:

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Please, please, please bleep. By the way, if you’re not Jewish, gadol hador is a great of the generation. There are very few people who maintain… We’re talking Reb Moshe Feinstein or Hank Greenberg. They are very few.

David Bashevkin:

Exactly.

Alex Edelman:

Mike is that. He’s encouraging an even deeper emotional honesty that I’m not always 100% sure I want or audiences want, but, of course, he’s right. Pursuing a bit more of it would be leaning into the person that I am, which is someone who thinks deeply about the Judaism that’s invested in his life as opposed to running away from that because running away from that would be dishonest.

If I ever start feeling disconnected from my Judaism, my comedy will reflect that. The show happens to coincide with me finding more of a community. We made this thing called Saturday Night Seder, me and some friends, at the beginning of the pandemic, which is wonderful. I found more of a Jewish community instead of less of one.

In times in my life where I’m sure if my comedy is good or my comedy is reflective of who I am, then that disconnect will be profound. People will be able to understand what I’m feeling about my own religion by me saying that I’m not feeling it. Does that make sense, David?

David Bashevkin:

No, it does. To me, my only lament is twofold. Number one, that we still have never met in person, despite our countless personal connections. Number two, that of all of the interviews that I’ve done on 18Forty, this is going to require the most translation, which is something that I actually-

Alex Edelman:

What have I said? Gadol hador, I guess, right?

David Bashevkin:

Ner Tamid. You dropped a Ner Tamid. I can’t get enough of it. I love it.

Alex Edelman:

Ner Tamid is the thing that… the eternal flame that sits above an arc in a synagogue. What else? What else did I say?

David Bashevkin:

No, no, no. You’ve been absolutely perfect. I’ve already taken up more of your time. Do you have time for one more general question?

Alex Edelman:

Sure. Go ahead.

David Bashevkin:

Here’s a general question, which I didn’t see fully surfaced in a lot of your interviews, but it really comes back to the question that you hate. That is, I think that a lot of the reason, particularly in Modern Orthodoxy, why people seek stable, more typical jobs, more stable jobs, is because there is an anxiety that we associate by taking unknown paths.

I’m curious, for you… Both comedy and Jewish life and Jewish community is associated with a certain angst, a certain anxiety of becoming, of arriving. I’m curious, for you, how your comedy and religious identity intersects with your own mental health. Is it something that aggravates at the success that you’ve been having? Is Judaism and comedy something that is intertwined with an angst and anxiety that I seem to hear in your voice? But it’s not something that I’ve heard you really unpack at length.

Alex Edelman:

That’s a good question. I have angst, and I have anxiety. I don’t know if those things stem entirely from my Judaism. What’s interesting is when you start as a comic… Gary will tell you this. I was not a very good comedian when I started. The comics that has starting now or have started in the last five years, they’re much better comedians than the comics that started comedy 10 years ago at the outset of their careers because their influences… They have better influences, or their influences are in a better place.

Some of my influences were these really horrific Boston comedians and these really horrific New York comedians. You see them in comedy clubs. I have bad comedy influences, a couple of them. I had good ones like Gary Gulman, but it wasn’t uncommon to be on a show with… for me to walk into a comedy club and see five terribly edgy comics who were sexist or-

David Bashevkin:

Sure.

Alex Edelman:

Self-effacing in a way that was horrific or angry. That’s why Gary was such a light. There are a couple of other exceptions that, if I thought hard, I’d remember. I saw a lot of bad comedy. I think a lot of my angst is around the comedian that I was or the comedy voice that maybe I could be if I hadn’t been so awful when I started.

David Bashevkin:

Interesting.

Alex Edelman:

My anxiety now revolves a lot around… I think a lot of my identity in the first few years of my comedy as a professional was about not being very worthy of any sort of… I think I’ve got some self-loathing there and also the anxiety of… People seem to largely like the show now, but maybe it won’t always be the case. I’m also learning to enjoy it a little bit. I’m enjoying the fact that people seem to be connecting with this show. Our run starts back up on March 14th. I know that this will… When will this air? Purim, Purim? It’s a few-

David Bashevkin:

This is our pre-Purim episode. Just the length that you went out to do this, we will make sure that there is a link to get tickets and the last show sold out.

Alex Edelman:

Sure.

David Bashevkin:

All of our listeners must listen to this. We’ve taken up way more of your time than you ever promised. I always end my interview with rapid-fire questions.

Alex Edelman:

Sure.

David Bashevkin:

One of which you’ve already answered. Let’s do it really quickly. Here we go.

Alex Edelman:

Sure. Go ahead.

David Bashevkin:

What is a book that you would recommend to help somebody better appreciate the messages and values that you’ve been sharing through your comedy and really about your Jewish identity? You mentioned My Name Is Asher Lev. Give us another book.

Alex Edelman:

Nathan Englander’s For the Relief of Unbearable Urges.

David Bashevkin:

Fantastic, yes.

Alex Edelman:

He’s wonderful. It’s an incredible book. It’s a collection of short stories that understands the Orthodox Jewish identity better than any other American book. His other stuff is truly… Dinner at the Center of the Earth and Kaddish.com are two really glorious books, but for my money, nothing touches For the Relief of Unbearable Urges, at least as an introduction.

David Bashevkin:

An awesome suggestion. If somebody gave you a great deal of money and allowed you to take a sabbatical without any responsibilities, to go back to school in and get a PhD, what do you think the topic and title of your PhD dissertation would be?

Alex Edelman:

Come on. I don’t know. Hold on. My girlfriend’s here. Hannah, what would the topic of my… If someone gave me an insane amount of money and I was supposed to go back to school and write a PhD dissertation, what would it be on?

David Bashevkin:

Hannah, you’re more than welcome to jump in on this as well.

Hannah Einbinder:

Well, I know what my joke answer is.

Alex Edelman:

What’s the joke answer?

Hannah Einbinder:

No, no, I can’t say that.

Alex Edelman:

The answer.

David Bashevkin:

We’ve already bleeped part of this interview, so it’s-

Alex Edelman:

Well, I think my… I don’t know.

Hannah Einbinder:

Alex really loves nature and hiking. He’s spent a lot of time in places like Arizona and Utah. Maybe allegories for Judaism within the natural world.

Alex Edelman:

That’s really, really beautiful. That’s beautifully-

David Bashevkin:

I love that.

Alex Edelman:

That’s absolutely, perfectly… That’s an insight. If you want to about tzechel, if you want to talk about wisdom, that’s an insight that… I really love the national park. Also, when I was at NYU, I was a TA for a class called Baseball as a Road to God. It was about baseball as an American religion, so maybe something about that, even though my old professor, John Sexton, very ably tackled the topic in his book called Baseball as a Road to God. Maybe something around that.

David Bashevkin:

Both are fantastic answers. My final question, and then I will let you go on your hike. I can’t thank you enough for this. I hope it’s okay if we include that brief snippet from Hannah’s suggestion as well. What time do you go to sleep at night? What time do you wake up in the morning?

Alex Edelman:

I go to bed around midnight or 1:00 AM, and I wake up around 7:00 or 8:00, pretty much no matter what happens. That’s the sad truth.

David Bashevkin:

Oh, wow. Torah true. That’s quite the Modern Orthodox schedule. I appreciate it. Alex, go enjoy. I cannot thank you enough. I hope we meet again under less annoying circumstances.

Alex Edelman:

Sure. No problem.

David Bashevkin:

I cannot appreciate your time enough.

Alex Edelman:

By the way, I go to bed around shkiat hachamah. I wake up in time for tefillas hashachar. Not at all, man. Thanks for having me. I really appreciate it. I think our first couple of weeks of shows have been selling out or are sold out, but we release holds every day.

Also, if people really want tickets to the show, they can always reach out. People can go online. I think there’ll be tickets still. Hopefully, there’ll still be some tickets available when this airs. All right. Thank you so much, David. Appreciate you having me.

David Bashevkin:

Ah freilichen Purim. Thank you so much, Alex. All the best.

Alex Edelman:

Freilichen Purim

David Bashevkin:

One of the points that really stuck with me that Alex highlighted, and I think we need to remind ourselves, is about the universality of particularity. It’s that in our very specific stories, in our very specific struggles, there is something very universal buried in there.

I think a lot of times, we see the way national media, Hollywood, discusses Jewish life, Orthodox life, and we get very frustrated. We need to realize that we are sitting on our own stories. We have to have the ability, the vision, and the perspective to be able to share our own particularity with the larger world.

There’s an idea I want to leave our episode with, and I hope you’ll permit me to do so. I may have mentioned this before, but it’s an idea I take with me when I go into Purim. I remember in my year in Israel, I believe war broke out in either 2002, 2003 on Purim.

I remember there were people who had to… We had to rush back to the dorms and put on gas masks. Really, that Purim experience highlighted this very incongruity. It always brings me back to this idea that has animated my relationship to comedy in general. It animates my relationship to Purim. That is, there’s something very strange, very curious, that we do when we read the Megillah.

When the Megillah retells the story of the Jews feasting at the palace of Ahasuerus, this was not a meal that they were supposed to partake in. It was a meal that kind of led to the great punishment that serves as the tension of all of Purim. When we read this part of the Megillah, we do something very strange.

Instead of using the normal tune, what’s known as the trope, when we lain and read from the Megillah, we actually take in and we read the trope from Megillat Eicha, from the Book of Lamentations that we normally read on Tisha B’Av. When we read the kelim mikelim shonim, that they were partaking from these old vessels that Ahasuerus took out the vessels from the temple in Jerusalem and the Jews were parting with them, we read it with a sad tune, the tune from Lamentations, from Eicha, that we read each year in Tisha B’Av.

It always struck me. Why are we bringing in a tune from a different Megillah? What are we trying to do here? Try to build the tension? Is this the Megillah equivalent of the Jaws soundtrack? Trying to build tension and convince people, this doesn’t end well. We know how the Megillah ends. There are a lot of Megillahs and stories that we read. We don’t normally find the need to bring in a tune from outside the Megillah in order to build tension. Why do we do this here? Why do we do that now?

For me, I’ve always thought of the imagery of two friends who are struggling with something together. Maybe they’re struggling with getting married, finding their respective loved ones. Maybe they’re struggling with similar illness, a similar difficulty at work. The two friends who are always confiding in one another, long drives back together, kind of pouring their hearts out about their respective struggles, and they’re in this journey together until, finally, one of these friends has their redemption. They do get married. They’re finally at their own wedding.

You can imagine one of those friends. I’ve been in this situation myself at my own wedding or at somebody else’s wedding when I wasn’t married. You’re there. You’re like, “We had so much time together when we were commiserating, lifting one another up.” Now you’re watching one of your friends kind of move on to that next stage.

You could imagine at that wedding, this friend is in the middle of the circle, incredibly joyful. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that friend, remembers all the long rides and the conversation, kind of sitting off to the side. It’s not a part of the simcha, not a part of this joy and feels so distant, so removed from everything taking place.

The fact that they were so close for so long, commiserating over the same difficulties, the same suffering, the same pain, only highlights the incongruity in the distance, the current moment, to be sitting at a wedding of a close friend. Only one of them, of course, is getting married.

It’s at that moment that I could imagine a friend walking out from the center circle. The groom, the chasan, walks out from the center circle, and he finds that friend sitting on a chair, maybe off to the side. He pulls them in to the center of the circle.

Without saying anything explicitly, they’re able to look at one another. Implicitly, by dancing together in that center circle, they’re reminding one another that your story has not yet unfolded, that even though only one of us is actualizing that redemption, that destination, that final leg of their journey right now, your story is still unfolding. Both of us deserve to have this moment together of joyousness in the center circle.

I think in many ways, this is what we’re doing on Purim when we read the Megillah, that we look at, and we see Tisha B’Av sitting off to the side. It’s Purim. It’s a wedding. It’s joyous. It’s Adar. It’s simcha. It’s all of these incredibly uplifting feeling.

Out of the corner of her eye, we see Tisha B’Av. We see that story that has not yet completely unfolded, that story that has not yet been completely resolved. We take Tisha B’Av by both hands. We bring it into the center circle, and we begin dancing together. We look at Tisha B’Av in the eye and say that you, Tisha B’Av, are just a Purim that has not yet completely unfolded, but you, too, are a story that one day will merit that joyousness that we’re experienced thing right now.

I think even more conceptually, this is what we do for all of the difficulties in our life on Purim. When we enter Purim on a day with so much suffering, with so much difficulty going on in the world, we look at all of that pain sitting off outside on those center tables, and we try to draw it in to whatever joyousness we’re able to experience on Purim and remind ourselves that whatever pain and suffering we see in the world, we see in our lives, the prayer, and joy, inspiration, and the general uplifting of Purim… We’re able to bring all of that suffering in the world with us into that center circle.

I’m hoping for all of us, as we enter a Purim with a great deal of suffering, with a great deal of difficulty, I hope we’re able to look at all of the pain and suffering, sitting off across the side, all of those Tisha B’Av moments, those Tisha B’Av feelings, those feelings of lamentation, and find a way and find a window, that we’re able to grab those feelings of suffering and pain with both hands and be able to dance with it, to inject some measure of hope and optimism, even when the world, even when parts of our lives feel so bleak.

As we dance together, Purim and Tisha B’Av, our joy and our pain, I hope all of us are able to get a taste, not only despite the suffering of the world, but maybe because of all the suffering of the world, that we need the redemptive spirit of Purim to hopefully uplift the world, our communities, our families, and all of us, wishing all of our listeners an uplifting and inspiring Purim for yourselves and for your families.

Thank you so much for listening. This episode was edited by Denah Emerson. It wouldn’t be a Jewish podcast without a little bit of Jewish guilt. If you enjoyed this episode, please subscribe, rate, review. Tell your friends about it. You can also donate at 18Forty.org/donate. That’s 1-8-F-O-R-T-Y.org/donate. Subscribing, rating, reviewing, telling your friends about it, or donating, or all of the above… It really helps us reach new listeners and continue getting out great content.

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