Praying

I give Matt a lot of grief because he’s Irish.  Okay, it’s not actually because he’s Irish so much as it is that he’s not Jewish, but he’s portraying an Israeli character.  I try to explain to him how to sound Yiddishe without actually giving him line readings, or sounding like I’m giving him line readings.  This is tricky for both of us, and some times I just want to call up some family or friends and put them on the line with Matt so he can hear what I mean.  I worry about falling into stereotype or parody; a lot of the media presence of these accents and mannerisms is in exaggerated, comic forms, like Jon Stewart's shoulder-shrugged rendition, or Woody Allen's self-consciously Other shpiel.  And I'm not Israeli myself, of course, nor do I come from a household where anybody of any generation speaks more than a few words of Yiddish.  But Matt is an enterprising actor, and takes advantage of the awkward crumbs I can give him to build a more natural character.  He makes a very sweet Jewish dad to his young (entirely offstage) daughter.

Today we’re praying, in translation from Arabic and Hebrew.  The prayer rug and the prayer shawl are dug out, and the finer points of procedure are discussed.  Since I am a Hebrew-school dropout, and Adi has only a vague idea of how salah is supposed to go, we are lucky to have consultants -- Beth advises Matt, and Nuah-Ozryel Bukhari comes in after work to help Adi.  I’m embarrassed by my ignorance; I’ve done so much research for this play, and yet I have to be reminded that one is supposed to kiss the tallit.  In doing my research for the play, I was and am constantly hurt by the tendency to conflate “Jews” and “Israelis”; talking about “what the Jews have done in Gaza” is as ludicrous as talking about “what the Muslims have done in Afghanistan.”  There is also a painful tendency for Western statements of support for Palestinians to slide into ugly claims about “Jewish-controlled media.”  And I feel personally hurt and alienated by this; I instinctively regard myself as Jewish.  In the context of this play I’ve written, and the hostile attention it may garner, I know that my irreligiousness could subject me to accusations of “inauthenticity.”  I feel sad, but, on the other hand: whatever, man; I’m an artist.  I’ll leave authenticity to the role models.

And also perhaps this blog is not a good venue for me to vent about my relationship to my own religio-ethnic identity and whatnot.

But: speaking of prayers, ours have been answered.  We have a stage manager!  AND an assistant stage manager!  Chrissy and Jing are our new favorite people.  They are here to save us from our own incompetence.