While the Jewish contribution to film, theatre, music and comedy has been well documented, the Jewish role in the creation of the All-American superhero has not been – until now! From the birth of Krypton in Cleveland to Batman, Hulk, Spider-Man, the X-Men and more, Rabbi Weinstein will chronicle the unusual story behind the origins of the planet’s most famous superheroes.

Rabbi Simcha Weinstein is an internationally known best-selling author who is also a popular television and radio guest, having appeared on CNN Showbiz Tonight, NPR and other programs. He has also been profiled in many leading publications, including the New York Times, the Miami Herald, the Seattle Times and the London Guardian.

Books and autographs available.

$5 members/students*
$10 non-members
Advance tickets: (514) 345-6416
Info: (514) 345-2627 ext. 3006

* Tickets at the member rate must be purchased in advance.
Students pay member rate at all times.
Call for details. Doors open 30 minutes prior to the event.
Free parking at the YM-YWHA.

Sponsored by the Helen Bassel Endowment.

Growing up Jewish in cold, rainy Manchester, England, I always knew that I was “a little different.”

My parents promised me a post-bar mitzvah growth spurt. (I’m still waiting.) And when the No. 135 bus took me home each day and stopped to pick up the kids from the local Catholic school, I’d shove my yarmulke even deeper into my pocket. Getting picked on by the big kids for being short and shy was bad enough. Getting picked on for being Jewish was much worse. But there was no point provoking the local anti-Semites by exhibiting my religiosity. These bullies weren’t the majority, by any means—but that didn’t make them any less scary.

My fears at the bus stop followed me into Hebrew school, where I learned all about centuries of Jewish suffering and oppression. When I walked back outside, our synagogue had been spray-painted, yet again, with (mis-spelled) obscenities.

Like many Jewish families, the standing joke at our family’s Passover seder table was, “They tried to kill us,
we survived, let’s eat.” But it didn’t seem all that funny to me, not when the tombstones in the local Jewish cemetery were defaced with swastikas. And so, like many underdogs, I sought solace in popular culture and the
world of superheroes. (In case anybody wants to learn more, I’ve divulged my affection for caped crusaders in my book Up, Up and Oy Vey!: How Jewish History, Culture and Values Shaped the Comic Book Superhero.) Within that alternative universe of “Zap! Pow! Bam!,” nebbishy nerds like Clark Kent beat up the bad guys, not the other way around.

Halfway through high school, however, I made a life changing discovery. Beneath my nebbishy exterior, I possessed a hidden “super power” of my own: the power of humor. Suddenly, I became the class clown, cracking up my teachers and classmates. Now that the cool kids liked me more, the mean ones were less prone to beat me up. I learned later that I was in good company—many famous Jewish comedians had been class clowns, too.

At the time, however, I knew almost nothing about the tremendous impact Jews have had on comedic history. Instead, I’d subconsciously tapped into this long, storied tradition. Like countless Jews before and since, I discovered that suffering inspires humor, which in turn can be used to fight oppression.

Only later did I take that yarmulke out of my pocket. I’d studied film at university, and after graduation I began a rewarding career in movie and television production. But something was missing. After all, the entertainment industry revolves around all things superficial and trendy. As I looked for something more serious to which I could dedicate my life, I found myself thinking more and more about my faith.

I started taking classes, and became more observant. My spiritual awakening was nothing dramatic—unless swapping movie sets for “rabbi school” (yeshiva) counts as “dramatic.” During that journey, I met rabbis and
rebbetzins who became my new mentors and “super heroes.” The men were full of wit and wonder, nothing like the stuffy “white shirt/black suit” penguins I’d expected. The women surprised me, too. They were outrageous, confident and free-thinking, not stereotypical, shmatteh-wearing submissive kitchen slaves. Through these holy Hebrew jesters, I finally came to appreciate those dark-humored jokes around the seder table, and the very real role comedy has played in helping Jews survive centuries of persecution.

Shtick Shift by Rabbi Simcha

Or better yet, consider the festival of Purim, inspired by the biblical Book of Esther. Purim celebrates the time that the Jews of ancient Persia were saved from genocide. Okay, so that may not sound like a recipe for hilarity, but that’s exactly what makes the story a great taproot of Jewish humor. The tale relies on split-second reversals of fortune—called hippuch in Hebrew. The only difference between tragedy and comedy is the way the story ends, and the Purim story certainly wraps up with an amusing punch line. Haman, the chief advisor to the Persian king Achashverosh, secretly plots to kill all the Jews in the kingdom. Disaster seems inevitable. Little does he know that the king’s wife, Queen Esther, is Jewish herself. Ooops! In an ironic twist, Haman ends up executed on the very gallows he built to hang the Jews. To this day, Jews commemorate this victorious reversal of fortune with a purimshpil (which means a “Purim game” in Yiddish), dressing up in costumes inspired by the Bible story, and perpetuating the tradition of linking the bitter with the sweet, and tragedy with comedy.

These lighthearted Purim activities serve a serious purpose: to remind us that persecution still exists and shows no sign of abating. On New Year’s Eve, 1999, the world pinned its hopes on the dawn of the new millennium, when we would finally bid farewell to the bloodiest century in history. Instead, the twenty-first century ushered in the new Intifada, the 9/11 terrorist attacks and other deadly bombings in London and Madrid. And who would have dared imagine that the ancient and barbaric practice of beheading would reenter the modern world with the execution of Jewish “infidels” like Wall Street Journal reporter Daniel Pearl? Nations like Iran and North Korea pose threats to world peace, while reports of genocide in Darfur seem to indicate we have failed to learn the lessons of the Holocaust. Closer to home, the evening news presents a nightmare vision of violence, economic meltdown and pointless tragedy, coupled with reports of shallow, shameless celebrity insanity.

Despite these dark turns in the annals of history, the United States generally remains a safe haven for the Jewish people. But, ironically, America’s embrace of the Jewish people has a shadow side: rampant assimilation and secularism that threatens the future of our faith.

Sadly, I witnessed something I never expected: the same hatred I saw as a child in England, here in my adopted home of New York City. In the autumn of 2007, our local synagogue was vandalized, along with another synagogue on our block. The culprits spray-painted and scratched more than twenty swastikas onto cars, and stuffed handwritten flyers reading “Israel: Land of Pigs” and “All Jews Die” on windshields. And this was in Brooklyn Heights, a leafy, gentrified neighborhood. Coincidentally (or not) the vandalism occurred just a few hours after anti-Semitic Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad spewed his rhetoric not far away, at Columbia University.

Thankfully, diligent police work paid off and a few months later, a suspect was indicted on almost one hundred counts of criminal mischief and other charges. An arsenal of weapons, including pipe bombs and firearms, was uncovered in his apartment. Our community was relieved, but also disturbed by the news that the suspect was a local man who claimed to be Jewish. His home was just a short distance from my office; I’ve probably passed him on the sidewalk many times. What a chilling reminder of the very real dangers we face today.

With all the tzurus in the world, we might well ask: What is there for twenty-first-century Jewish comedians to joke about? The surprising answer plenty. Luckily for us all, a veritable army of next-generation Jewish comedians are now on the scene, ready to slay the world’s modern day Hamans with their wit.

But before we meet these new Jewish jokers, let’s pay tribute to the funny men and women who paved their way.

Shtick Shift: Jewish Humor in the 21st century is available to purchase online now and in book stores.

His first show “The Jewish Superhero Show” will be on Monday 20th July at 11:00 PM

Show info:

First off, lets start by stating that this show is going to be WAY worse than normal. Why? Because Kurtis is flying solo! That’s right, no Amy and (even worse) no Harry! Heavens to Mergatroid! But don’t fret. As bad as that sounds, he has found a guest host to help him with all of the big words. Ashley the Enigma will be lending a female voice to the show while Harry and Amy are away. Second, please join us as we welcome Rabbi Simcha Weinstein as he talks about his book “Up, Up and Oy Vey! How Jewish History, Culture and Values Shaped the Comic Book Superhero.” Was Superman Jewish? Could he have used his super powers to be a mohel instead of a mild mannered reporter? Is Wonder Woman a shicksa? Tune in to find out! Bringing you the absolute worst in web talk radio… guaranteed!

Click here to listen on Monday 20th July at 11:00 PM
And dont forget you can call in your questions on (347) 202-0556

Sasha Barron Cohen in the movie Bruno

The swishy, semi-fascist fashionista Brüno is the imaginary Austrian TV personality created by the very real British comedian Sacha Baron Cohen. In 2006, Baron Cohen broke box office records (and probably a couple of laws) with his movie Borat, about another foreign fictional reporter’s adventures in America.

In 2006, Barron Cohen broke box office records (and probably a couple of laws) with his movie Borat, about another foreign fictional reporter’s adventures in America.

With their microphones in hand and their cameramen at their heels, both characters give Baron Cohen the unique ability, in our media-crazed age, to access people and places few “real” people could get close to. The results are hilarious or offensive – sometimes both – depending on your point of view.

As with Borat, the “plot” of Brüno is non-existent. Brüno flies to Hollywood, hoping to become “the most famous Austrian star since Adolph Hitler” and “the biggest gay movie star since Schwarzenegger.”

Besides being a “take no prisoners” iconoclast and equal opportunity offender, Sacha Baron Cohen is Jewish. So not surprising, there are cringe-making “Jewish” gags throughout the new film. It’s a carry over from Baron Cohen’s old TV program, where the character Brüno originated, and, among other things, liked to rate red carpet looks as either “in the ghetto” (thumbs up) or “train to Auschwitz” (thumbs down).

At one point in the new movie, the staggeringly tactless Brüno decides to become a Middle East peacemaker of all things. But he confuses the words “hummus” with “Hamas” in a high stakes dialogue between a real life ex-Mossad chief and an equally authentic Arab leader. Like everyone Brüno encounters, the two men were baffled by his bizarre behavior.

Some of Brüno’s unfortunate subjects end up making fools of themselves, like the stage mothers and fathers who’ll do anything to get their children a part in Brüno’s photo shoot. Would a mother consent to liposuction for her preschooler? Brüno asks them with a straight face. Will their babies be comfortable working with bees, wasp or hornets? Brüno suggests to one mother that her 30-pound baby lose 10 pounds within seven days — and she eagerly agrees! When Brüno tells one mother that his child would be expected to wear a Nazi uniform and push a wheelbarrow carrying a Jewish baby into an oven, the mother calmly responds, “That’s fine, as long as he gets the gig.”

Remember: these are real people, and they’re not reading from scripts.

For better or worse, Borat helped make the nation of Kazakhstan a household name (and international punch line). Baron Cohen’s new alter ego might not have the same effect on Austria, though –- in promotional interviews, Brüno says he wants to “live the Austrian dream of finding a partner, buying a dungeon, and starting a family” (a reference to Austrian madman Josef Fritzl, who imprisoned his daughter in a cellar for years and even fathered children with her). Austria may not be a fascist nation, but right now it is experiencing a growth in nationalistic, anti-immigration movements. Brüno is probably the last thing it needs right now.

Which brings us to the eternal question: Forget the Austrians. Is Brüno good for the Jews?

Context and narrative point of view are everything. They’re what separate an insightful gag that is in borderline taste from a tasteless joke that falls flat. Jewish performers like Sacha Baron Cohen, Larry David, and Sarah Silverman all share offensive-yet-naïve stage personas. These seemingly oblivious characters charge through life, offending everyone in their path, but not always intentionally. Their carefully crafted persona escort the audience through edgy routines that reveal a larger point of view within a specific context. Along with Sacha Baron Cohen, Larry David’s show “Curb Your Enthusiasm” satirizes the way we overvalue (fake) celebrity and undervalue real history. Meanwhile, Sarah Silverman uses utter absurdity to remind us of the gravity of the Holocaust, not make fun of it. By playing a fascist, not to mention a loudly “out” homosexual, Baron Cohen forces audiences to confront their own prejudices. His rationale seems to be: If you beat your enemy to the punch line by getting in the first and last word, even if you lose, you still win.

It’s a dangerous game, though. How can Baron Cohen be sure that audiences “get” his meta-humor? (”All in the Family” creator Norman Lear was appalled to discover that millions of viewers embraced Archie Bunker, a character he’d meant the audience to despise. Comedians Chris Rock and David Chappelle dropped certain routines about racial differences that some audiences liked too much, for the wrong reasons.)

In an interview with Rolling Stone when Borat first came out, Baron Cohen explained the “minstrelsy” he employs in his anarchic humor:

When I was in university, there was this major historian of the Third Reich, Ian Kershaw, who said, ‘The path to Auschwitz was paved with indifference.” I know it’s not very funny being a comedian talking about the Holocaust, but it’s an interesting idea that not everyone in Germany had to be a raving anti-Semite. They just had to be apathetic.

It’s telling that so many Jewish comedians (and their audiences) have declared the Holocaust “off limits” for comedy at this particular moment in time, because as its horrors recede into the past, the macabre phenomenon of Holocaust denial is growing, a trend I chronicle in my latest book, “Shtick Shift: Jewish Humor in the 21st Century” (Barricade Book). It goes without saying that this sort of gallows humor offends Holocaust survivors and their families. “Nazi” has become the Jewish “N” word — whether or not it’s an acceptable punch line depends upon who’s using it, and how.

I’m a fan of Sacha Baron Cohen, and respect the fact that we could all use a good laugh or two these days. But I’m also a rabbi; so much of his raunchy humor makes me deeply uncomfortable, too. It certainly isn’t material for a Shabbat sermon. That said, watching Brüno declare that fashion is more important than Darfur reminds us of the dangers of material excess, at a time when we need to practice and praise restraint. There are more real-life, shallow, dimwitted “Brünos” out there in the media world — deciding on a whim what the rest of us should wear, watch, read, and think — than many of us care to believe. In that respect, Brüno may serve as a lesson to us all.

Simcha Weinstein is an award-winning author, whose latest book is Shtick Shift: Jewish Humor in the 21st century (Barricade Books: 2008) is out now.

Rabbi Simcha interviewed on Morning Show

Simcha discusses the changing face of Jewish humor from Sacha Baron Cohens and Bruno, to Jon Stewart and Meet the Fockers.

Simcha Weinstein is an award-winning author, whose latest book is Shtick Shift: Jewish Humor in the 21st century (Barricade Books: 2008) is out now.

It is hard to overstate the influence Jewish people have had on modern comedy The second-generation immigrants who became Borscht Belt tummlers pretty much invented stand-up as we know it, with rhythms and a style that resonate down the decades – after all, what is stand-up but formalised kvetching?

These comedians moved into TV in its early days, creating templates for sitcoms and variety shows – while legends such as the Marx Brothers had already made their indelible mark on film comedy.

But in those early days it was thought that you had to assimilate to succeed, anglicising your name and concealing your heritage. Nowadays, following the trail blazed by the likes of Woody Allen and Jackie Mason, Jewish comedians are ‘out and proud’, mining their background and the stereotypes for comic fuel – from Sarah Silverman’s exaggerated Jewish princess or Larry David’s perpetual schmuck. In today’s postmodern climate, it’s perfectly reasonable for an observant Jew such as Sacha Baron Cohen to pose as a fierce anti-semite, as long as it’s in search of a laugh.

Simcha Weinstein, a New York rabbi born in Manchester, calls this change in attitude the Shtick Shift, though it’s more evolution than a quantum leap. Nor is it confined to Jewish comedians, as – reflecting changes in society – almost every group of minority comedians go through the same process down the years of trying to fit in, playing up to the stereotypes, then playing with them, then finally becoming comfortable enough with both past and present cultures to exploit jokes for laughs.

In this new book, Weinstein doesn’t so much try to find the reasons for these changing sensibilities or examine the roots of Jewish humour as try to examine what image such portrayals of Jewish life are projecting. If that sounds a bit ‘media studies’, that’s true – though Weinstein writes with a clarity and verve that his arguments never sound pretentious or aloof.

However, approaching the topic from that direction does mean that some of his examples are chosen for their importance to his beliefs, rather than their significance in the world of comedy. An entire chapter, for example, is built around the modest 2006 family comedy film Keeping Up With The Steins, which didn’t even get a UK release, because its extravagant bar mitzvah scene illustrates Weinstein’s points about missing the real meaning of the coming-of-age ritual, more than anything it says about the state of Jewish comedy.

Similarly, he claims things as specifically Jewish that might apply to any comedian – for example in the section about political comic such as Lewis Black and Jon Stewart stating that: ‘There is something very Jewish about grappling with the discrepancies of power.’ That’s as maybe, but there’s always been many a gentile who does that, too.

But he does know his stuff, and the book rattles through examples of Jewish humour over the years, references scores of comedians, shows and films – almost exclusively American – not to mention previous commentators and academics who have plunged into this subject.

The result is an well-considered overview of the approach modern Jewish comedians are taking to their work, but equally interesting for goyim who don’t know their shlemiels from their shmendriks. Weinstein doesn’t go into much depth in these 116 brisk pages, which can be disappointing, but for an informed, broad-brush presentation of the state of the art, it’s an engaging read.

He concludes that comics today discuss their heritage with ‘a brutal matter-of-factness that would make earlier generations cringe’, but isn’t censorious about it. It’s Jewish, but not necessarily kosher.

Jewish comedy – if the simple phrase is enough to define the varied work Jewish comedians are doing – is as vibrant as it’s ever been, with the Judaism often more in-your-face than ever before. Rabbi Weinstein rightly considers this a healthy state of affairs, not to mention one in the eye for the anti-semites.

Reviewed by: Steve Bennett for Chortle UK Comedy Guide

PROVIDENCE, R.I. In the 1930s, amid the Great Depression and Nazi Germany, Cleveland writer Jerry Siegel and Toronto artist Joe Shuster conceived an iconic superhero with rippling biceps, long-flowing cape, impeccably coifed hair and a virtuous calling to stamp out evil.

Superman may not be Jewish like his creators, but some scholars, comic book historians and rabbis see the superhero and his introverted alter ego Clark Kent as subtly influenced by the authors’ heritage and informed by themes of assimilation and conflicted cultural identities.

Two related exhibits at Brown University explore the seminal role of Jews in the comic book genre, including the founders of satirical Mad magazine and the creators of Superman, Spider-Man, the Incredible Hulk, Batman and Captain America. The displays also include contemporary illustrators such as Art Spiegelman, who won a Pulitzer Prize in 1992 for his Holocaust-inspired comic Maus.

“People’s knowledge of their role is not really proportional to the actual size of their role,” said Franklin Kanin, a Brown junior who helped to curate the exhibits for a course called Jewish Americans: Film and Comics.

Jewish cartoonists practised their craft in early-20th-century Yiddish-language publications, but were largely excluded from high-paying illustration jobs and the advertising industry, said James Sturm, co-founder of the Center for Cartoon Studies in White River Junction, Vt.

They responded with their own comic strips, creating some of the most celebrated cartoon characters.

“They dreamed their dreams on paper, in comic books – which were kind of this cheap, throwaway medium that wasn’t really thought suitable for the more genteel population,” Sturm said.

One exhibit, which ran through mid-December at the John Hay Library, focused on the genre’s early years. The other, on display until later this month at the John Nicholas Brown Center’s Carriage House Gallery, shows modern artists wrestling openly with cultural stereotypes and ambivalence about religious identity.

Early Jewish American cartoonists, often the children of immigrants and toiling under pen names, created heroes of idyllic values. They possessed supreme strength, wisdom and goodness, espoused justice, helped the less fortunate and took on the Nazis and other enemies as superhuman fantasy figures.

The first Captain America issue, for instance, showed him smashing Hitler in the face.

“If somebody socked Hitler in the jaw, and many did, they had blond hair as they did it,” said Paul Buhle, a senior lecturer of American Civilization and history at Brown whose students curated the exhibit and who has written about Jews and popular culture. “There was no Jewish self-identification because it was feared this would limit the audience.”

Though blessed with exceptional powers, the superheroes were seen as outsiders, even alien, to mainstream America, which some commentators associate with the general experience of immigrants at the time.

But they had dual personas, carrying alter egos that were shy, angst-ridden earthlings – think Clark Kent or Spider-Man’s Peter Parker – who were uncertain of themselves and struggled to fit in and conform.

“They represent the nervous, nebbish immigrant who’s trying to find a place within this world,” said Rabbi Simcha Weinstein, author of Up, Up and Oy Vey! How Jewish History, Culture and Values Shaped the Comic Book Superhero.

Weinstein sees parallels between Superman, who first appeared in 1938, and the Old Testament character of Moses, who was sent down the Nile in a basket, raised in a strange land and learned his heritage later in life.

One comic in the exhibit shows Doc Samson, a psychiatrist in the Incredible Hulk series, teaching children about the holiday of Hanukkah – only to have them ask what role Santa played in it.

Also included is a 1994 Mad magazine strip imagining Superman as the Jewish son of Hyman and Doris Feldstein of Brooklyn. His costume bears the Star of David and his mother celebrates the baby’s arrival by envisioning him as a future doctor.

Some of the contemporary work is more biting, such as a strip from a 2005 collection by artist Bob Fingerman of a young man spurning traditional Jewish mourning rituals at his grandmother’s funeral.

Brown senior Kaitlyn Laabs took the course to learn more about her heritage and said she came away learning to “look outside the box for other influences that can impact a genre or impact a culture.”

“I don’t think it was too contrived, I don’t think it was too far of a stretch,” Laabs said of the course. “Do I think that it can also be Christian values? Yes. I think it’s some kind of religious moral code.”

ERIC TUCKER Associated Press

Rabbi Simcha on Air America chats with Rev. Dr. C. Welton Gaddy about the changing face of Jewish humor from Sid Caesar’s Show of Shows to Jon Stewart’s Daily Show.

In the spirit of shameless self-promotion, Shtick Shift: Jewish Humor in the 21st Century is now available from my new Internet bookstore. The perfect gift if I may say!

Order your personalized autographed copies for only $15. Limited Offer for an extra $5, I will send you a copy of my first book, Up Up and Oy Vey. Two best-sellers for just $20 (Plus P+P) so be a mentsch and enjoy.

Shtick Shift Launch Event

Shtick Shift Launch Event

Even the once revolutionary, understated “Jew-ish” and “Israel-lite” flavor of Seinfeld has been
replaced by a brutal matter-of-factness that would make earlier generations cringe.

Shtick Shift by Rabbi Simcha

Author Simcha Weinstein calls this daring new comic sensibility “The Shtick Shift.”

Unlike their comedic predecessors, Jewish comedians of the 21st century – such as The Daily Show’s Jon Stewart, Larry David of Curb Your Enthusiasm, and Jewfro’d movie stars Seth Rogan and Jonah Hill– don’t play down or apologize for their heritage. They offer fresh perspectives on familiar themes in Jewish humor: politics, money, assimilation and the trappings of success.

Think of Shtick Shift as the 21st Century’s primer to the ever-changing face of Jewish comedy: new
faces, outrageous routines and sometimes surprising seriousness about the most (de)pressing issues of our time.

The book takes apart Jewish humor and reconstructs it using today’s Jewish comedians’ outrageousness as the new model of how far, far out humor can go.

You’ll laugh out loud and be occasionally outraged as you read “Shtick Shift.” Tell your friends to buy it!