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How a new generation of comics is changing the face of Jewish comedy — and Judaism itself
Jewish comedy is, of course, a long and vaunted tradition: Joan Rivers, Mel Brooks, Woody Allen, Lenny Bruce, Larry David.
No one had to tell audiences that they were Jewish. Sure, there was Jewish content to some of their jokes — Bruce’s most famous bit is about the difference between Jews and non-Jews. But the literal mention of Judaism wasn’t what made their comedy feel so Jewish. It was their affect, their posture, their accents, their discussion of psychoanalysis or overbearing mothers. The self-deprecating, dry, kvetching tone. The test for whether comedy was Jewish was like the test for obscenity: You know it when you see it.
Today, though, everyone is in therapy. Everyone is anxious. Everyone can poke fun at their crazy families. Everyone — or plenty of people, at least — uses at least a few Yiddishisms. Schlep, klutz and mensch are hardly limited to members of the tribe.
Maybe that’s why a new crop of Jewish comics, many of whom have made their name posting their sets and crowdwork clips to YouTube, are so explicit about exactly what kind of comedy they’re doing.
Raanan Herschberg’s sharp new special is called Morbidly Jewish. Ariel Elias titles her YouTube special “A Jewish Star.” Josh Edelman’s latest act is “The Jew Rogaine Show.” “I’m Jewish btw lol,” reads the caption of a viral clip comedian Lucas Zelnick posted, talking about the names of various Jewish day schools. Gianmarco Soresi, an Italian Jew who talks about his Judaism in many of his viral clips, captions them with the hashtag #Jewish.
What it means to be Jewish in the U.S. has changed since the early days of Jewish comics on the Borscht Belt. We’ve assimilated, spread out across the country and the accent is fading away. You have to tell people you’re Jewish for them to know, most of the time. So, many Jewish comics are doing exactly that.
But beyond the label, what makes their comedy Jewish? For some, it seems like stolen valor, a way of claiming membership in a lauded tradition of comics, when mostly they’re just rehashing old jokes.
Josh Edelman — no relationship to Alex Edelman — spends much of The Jew Rogaine Show riffing about how, for example, his mother would brag about how many people he shot if he were a school shooter. “Thus concludeth the Jewish portion,” he says abruptly halfway through his set, as though Jewish comedy is limited to jokes that literally mention Jews, a switch that can be turned on and off.
But the best of the new, online Jewish comics, however, are birthing a new type of comedy — and with it, a new vision of Jewishness.
A Jewish comedy, divided
There are many comics who include some amount of Jewish comedy in their sets. In Sarah Squirm: Live + in the Flesh, though largely focused on gross-out comedy about bodily fluids, S.N.L. star Sarah Sherman also jokes about Ashkenazi digestion and having a Jewish president. Iliza Shlesinger mostly jokes about being a millennial woman, but also talks about her encounters with Christians as a Jew in Texas.
But there’s a range of comics who lean much more into their Judaism these days, making it central to their comedy, and labeling it Jewish. And among them, there seem to be two genres: comedy explaining Jewishness to non-Jews, and comedy that affirms Jews’ Jewishness.
Raanan Herschberg’s newest special, Morbidly Jewish, is in the first category. Herschberg takes on rising antisemitism with surprising nuance for a set that also includes jokes about masturbation.
In fact, that bit is one of the most complex, in which Herschberg tries to find a porn star to watch whose politics align perfectly with his — after Oct. 7, he said he stopped watching Mia Khalifa, a Lebanese porn star because she wrote a tweet celebrating the deaths of civilians. But an Israeli performer he turned to instead didn’t believe Palestinians deserved a homeland, which he also found distasteful.
“How could I, in good conscience, continue masturbating to this woman?” he says. “I started looking for a pornstar with, you know, a more nuanced view of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.”
It’s a brilliant bit, skewering the idea — an increasingly common one post-Oct. 7 — that there is political purity to be had at all times, in all moments of consumption, even the most base ones. It allows audiences a window into the internal battle of a certain cadre of progressive American Jews attempting to parse the post-Oct. 7 landscape. And, yet, the bit is not remotely preachy; it’s mostly a raunchy, funny joke.
Herschberg’s comedy is quite Jewish in content, sure, but it also has the je ne sais quoi feel of old-school Jewish comedy — the self-deprecation, dry wit and, not for nothing, some creative riffs about his mom — with an ability to bring audiences into the experiences of Jews, whether political purity tests or trying to decide what really counts as antisemitism.
Modi Rosenfeld, a gay Orthodox Jew, is firmly in the other category: Jewish jokes, by Jews and for Jews. In his special, Know Your Audience, he spends much of the time joking about intra-communal things, like the difference between prayer styles at Ashkenazi and Sephardic synagogues. He does explain, and act out, some of these jokes, but they aren’t all that funny if you don’t have the lived experience of, say, sitting through the speed-mumbling that defines so many Orthodox Ashkenazi services, or the lengthy warbling flourishes of Sephardic davening.
So much of the Jewish comedy of yore was pivotal in helping Jews assimilate further into American society. “See, look at us,” it said. “We’re funny and approachable.” Jewish comics became American stars. But Rosenfeld is not shooting for assimilation; he is helping fortify the in-group.
When Rosenfeld asks, at one point, if anyone in the audience is not Jewish, only a few hands go up. And he makes it clear his set is not for them, albeit in a jovial tone: “I don’t know how you got in here,” he says, laughing.
Innovation in Jewish comedy
Then there are Jewish comedians who, while being deeply Jewish, are doing something else altogether. Their comedy feels deeply Jewish, while spending little time talking about it. And, in the style of the previous generation of Jewish comics, they’re also inventing a totally new style.
Adam Friedland gained fame as one of a trio of men who hosted Cum Town, the nihilistic cult podcast of the so-called dirtbag left, and now sometimes does stand-up about his parents, Oct. 7 and Israel. But his real comedic innovation is his shockingly popular YouTube channel, where he interviews politicians and celebrities, ribbing them while also eliciting real revelations. He has interviewed such guests as Zohran Mamdani, Ritchie Torres, Mia Khalifa — yes, that’s the same Lebanese porn star Herschberg joked about — and extremist looksmaxxing streamer Clavicular.
In each interview, Friedland makes himself into a kind of clumsy fall guy who asks such bizarre questions that guests are often stunned into surprising revelations. But then he will pivot into such heartfelt earnestness that it’s disarming. In the episode with Torres, after a contentious exchange over Israel, Friedland turned surprisingly personal in tone, describing the year he spent living in Israel and his family’s connections to Judaism.
“Me saying this to you right now will hurt people in my family,” he says, his voice cracking. “The world is seeing something that is terrible. And it’s being done in my name.”
For all Friedland’s deadpan awkwardness (“Have you seen a movie?” he asks musician and actress FKA Twigs, who responds, in confusion, “A movie? In my life?”) it is clear that he is, in fact, very smart and prepared for his interviews. He emerges as the master in every exchange, despite — or because of — his performance of clumsiness. It makes for a darkly subversive show, each episode poking such sly fun at his guests that they only sometimes notice and even less often know how to roll with any given riff. And it’s catchy enough that Friedland has become a kind of figurehead of a new paradigm in content; in the past year, he has been profiled by GQ, and covered in the pages of The New York Times and The New Yorker.
In a way, Friedland fits into a model outlined by Nathan Fielder, whose quasi-reality show, The Rehearsal, blurs the line between performance and reality, joking and earnestness, into something that is simultaneously funny and deeply unsettling. Even Alex Edelman, whose biographical comedy special Just For Us tells the story of his decision to attend a white supremacist meeting in Queens, toes a strange line of ambivalence over just how bad these racists are; he finds himself hoping they’ll like him.
The throughline here of this comedy is a destabilizing ambiguity. The situations can be funny in their absurdity, but they’re undergirded by a deep discomfort because they force the viewers, squirming, to ponder whether the joke or scenario posed by the comedian is, in fact, so outlandish and funny or if it’s actually completely earnest.
This form of comedy manages to touch upon truths that are hard to address directly, ones that are well-suited to our increasingly nihilistic, red-pilled society where earnestness is so often perceived as cringe.
It relies on comedians playing the role of an awkward outsider — willing to be weird or unattractive. It’s an inheritor to the self-deprecation that was so core to earlier Jewish comedy, and to a long Jewish history of outsider status, now remade into a truth-telling device.
This comedy might not be overtly Jewish. But something about this new cadre of comics’ ability to create a new genre, to define new boundaries, and to navigate a tightrope of nuance, feels, to me, almost Talmudic. It feels like these comedians so confidently own their Jewishness that they hardly need to mention it — but nevertheless, it’s foundational to who they are, and how they joke.
A splintered comedy for a splintered community
Jason Zinoman, the comedy critic at The New York Times, wrote a piece asking whether the Golden Age of Jewish comedy had come to an end, crumbling in the face of rising antisemitism.
Zinoman argued that it’s not, pointing out that Jewish comedy has always thrived in the face of fear. Political comedy, too, he points out, is having a moment, and much of today’s politics revolves around Jews, antisemitism and Israel — plenty of creative fuel. Navigating the intense political divides over Israel after Oct. 7, or when a “Free Palestine” comment on social media is antisemitic or not, has certainly fueled many a Jewish comedian’s set.
But in a way, the Golden Age of Jewish comedy is over, in the sense that there is no single sense of what makes comedy Jewish. There are so many kinds that appeal to so many audiences. Some, like Rosenfeld, have turned inwards, while others, like Herschberg, have used comedy to communicate the deep confusion many Jews feel about navigating their identity. And still more, like Friedman, have tried to create something new, a way of being Jewish that still feels completely identifiable as such without many of the obvious markers.
It’s a funhouse mirror of what’s happened to the Jewish community in general in the past few years as it has fractured over Israel and Zionism. Some Jews have become either outspoken Zionists or outspoken anti-Zionists. Others — including some synagogues and minyans — have tried to chart a middle course, navigating stormy waters without tipping either way. And others are trying to invent a new way to understand their identity and beliefs. But none of them have left their identity behind.
The same goes for the Jewish comedy — it’s all Jewish, even when it’s not doing it very traditionally. You know it when you see it.
The post How a new generation of comics is changing the face of Jewish comedy — and Judaism itself appeared first on The Forward.
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With anti-Arab campaign ad, Netanyahu stoops to new moral and political lows
Israeli election campaigns have often been ugly. They have featured exaggeration, fearmongering and outright deception. But even by those standards, the first major campaign advertisement by Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s Likud party, posted on Netanyahu’s X account on Tuesday, managed to shock much of the country.
The AI-generated video depicts former military chief Gadi Eisenkot, who has become the standard-bearer for the opposition, walking through a sunlit field toward a young Jewish man before passing him by to embrace Mansour Abbas of Ra’am, the United Arab List, instead.
The young man looks strikingly like Eisenkot’s son, Gal, who was killed fighting in Gaza in late 2023 — although Likud insists he isn’t meant to. Strictly speaking, there is enough difference to sustain the protestations. The young man has longer, wavier hair than Gal Eisenkot did — just enough, perhaps, to preserve plausible deniability. Yet almost everyone I know believed they were watching a father joyfully approaching his slain son, seemingly restored to life, only to ignore him in favor of an Arab political leader at a time when Arab political participation in Israel is particularly contentious.
The only possible explanation: Likud wants their campaign to be as mean as possible. Or perhaps that they believe that anything that creates a buzz — and therefore distracts from the governing coalition’s disastrous and controversial policies, including a wildly unpopular recent legislative blitz — is a good thing.
And buzz there is. The perception that a father’s personal loss had been weaponized for electoral gain struck many as a line that simply should not be crossed. “This is Netanyahu, and this is his machine of incitement”, wrote Einav Zangauker, whose son was held hostage in Gaza by Hamas, on social media. “This isn’t politics,” Zangauker added, but rather “an attack on a bereaved father and an assault on his dignity. It is the lowest of the low.”
“I turn to elected representatives, activists, and all candidates from all parties, and demand that you do not cross red lines. Do not turn rivals into enemies,” Israeli President Isaac Herzog said. “I call on the people of Israel, in a clear voice: Remember that elections are not a civil war.”
But even if one puts aside the controversy surrounding the young man altogether, the advertisement remains deeply troubling. It is, at its core, an exercise in incitement against Ra’am — and, by extension, against the very idea that Arab citizens may legitimately participate in governing Israel.
Abbas himself accused Netanyahu of “trying to incite between different parts of society”; about a fifth of Israelis are Arab, and the ad was obviously trying to delegitimize collaboration with the parties who generally represent them.
From Likud’s perspective, that too is logical — so long as they ignore the goal of Israel remaining a democratic country in which component ethnic groups live in harmony. It’s logical because Arab parties have always been part of the opposition to Likud and the chances are high that Eisenkot might need them, even passively, to successfully craft a coalition after the Oct. 27 election.
This isn’t just dangerous. It ignores the essential role that Arab parties have played in building toward a strong Israeli future.
Ra’am, under Abbas, has been the most integrationist Arab party Israel has ever seen. Abbas broke with decades of Arab political orthodoxy by arguing that Arab citizens should seek influence through practical cooperation with whichever Zionist government Israelis elected. He has repeatedly recognized Israel as the nation-state of the Jewish people while demanding full equality for its Arab citizens.
Whatever one thinks of his politics, these choices have represented one of the boldest experiments in Jewish-Arab partnership since the state’s founding.
That experiment briefly succeeded. Ra’am joined Naftali Bennett and Yair Lapid’s coalition in 2021 and demonstrated that Arab participation in government could become something ordinary rather than revolutionary.
More awkward still for Likud, Netanyahu himself spent some weeks after the 2021 election attempting to persuade Abbas to support — or even participate in — his own coalition. Those negotiations failed for one principal reason: Far-right firebrand Bezalel Smotrich — now Netanyahu’s finance minister — refused to countenance a government dependent on an Arab party. Without Ra’am, Netanyahu lacked a majority.
It is therefore surreal to portray Eisenkot’s willingness to work with Ra’am as somehow beyond the democratic pale, when not so long ago, Netanyahu himself tried to do precisely the same thing.
Nor should anyone pretend that Arab parties suddenly became relevant because of Eisenkot. Since the emergence of today’s political blocs, Arab parties have almost invariably belonged to the anti-Likud camp. Any center-left coalition aspiring to govern has depended, directly or indirectly, on their parliamentary support. That is not a distortion of Israeli democracy. It is one of its enduring structural realities.
Which brings us to the larger significance of this episode.
Many Israelis have long predicted that this Likud campaign would barely concern policy at all. They expected, instead, an effort to delegitimize any prospective change government by portraying it as illegitimate because it relied on Arab parties. They expected renewed attempts to cast Arab political participation as inherently suspect. They expected emotional manipulation to substitute for argument and personal attacks to eclipse serious debate. Some feared renewed efforts to discourage Arab turnout and disqualify Arab parties from the ballot.
That appears to be exactly what they’re getting.
The remarkable thing is not merely that Likud produced this advertisement, but that doing so was effectively its first act of the campaign, which kicked off after the Knesset recently went into recess.
Before voters had heard competing visions for Israel’s economy, security or diplomacy, the country’s governing party chose to launch its campaign by inflaming fears about Arab political participation while employing imagery that countless Israelis immediately interpreted as mocking one father’s unbearable personal loss.
By the next day, competing ads using a similar aesthetic were put out by opponents of Netanyahu. One depicted Netanyahu on a similar field running past a soldier to hug a Haredi politician holding a sign that says — as many Haredi anti-draft protesters chant — “we’d rather die than serve.”
One reason AI is so attractive to political strategists is because it blurs responsibility. Images can be carefully engineered to evoke a conclusion while remaining just different enough to deny that such a conclusion was ever the intention. The technology offers something every spin doctor craves: emotional impact coupled with plausible deniability.
“I do not think we can allow this to continue,” lamented David Lau, a former chief rabbi of Israel, who has served in the military. “We must stop all these disputes, all this talk, and all these behaviors. This path does not lead to building anything. It does not lead to peace. It is a bad path, and I am even more concerned about the next generation.”
It is entirely possible that this advertisement will prove to have established the moral tone of the campaign. Israel deserves better.
The post With anti-Arab campaign ad, Netanyahu stoops to new moral and political lows appeared first on The Forward.
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Reed College agrees to sweeping reforms as part of Title VI antisemitism settlement
(JTA) — Reed College has agreed to a host of far-reaching institutional changes, including asserting that targeting Jewish Zionists will be considered discriminatory, in order to settle multiple federal antisemitism investigations, parties to the complaint announced Wednesday.
The settlement was announced by the Anti-Defamation League and the Brandeis Center for Human Rights Under Law, which jointly filed the complaint, under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act, which prohibits discrimination at any institution receiving federal funds. It comes as campuses across the country, facing threats of losing federal funding under the Trump administration, have demonstrated willingness to negotiate new antisemitism protections.
As part of the agreement, the private Portland, Oregon, liberal arts school says it will insert language into its discrimination policy asserting that “for many Jewish people, Zionism is integral to their religious, ancestral and/or ethnic Jewish identity,” and that “targeting Jews on the basis of their Zionist identity” will be considered discriminatory.
The school will also contract a third-party consultant to monitor and report on its effectiveness in adhering to antisemitism protections, role that is unusual in similar Title VI agreements. The agreement says Reed will “consider” the International Holocaust Remembrance Association’s working definition of antisemitism, which includes some criticisms of Israel, and implement antisemitism training for faculty and staff.
“We take concerns about antisemitism, and all forms of unlawful discrimination, seriously, and we will continue to support the well-being, safety, and success of every member of our community,” a Reed College spokesperson told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency in a statement acknowledging the agreement. Reed declined to comment further.
ADL CEO Jonathan Greenblatt and Brandeis Center officials praised the agreement in a release as a potential model for other colleges.
“We believe it should serve as a model for other schools,” Denise Katz-Prober, director of legal initiatives at the Brandeis Center, told JTA about the agreement. The required language in Reed’s discrimination guidelines, she said, is “very clear about what constitutes anti-Zionist conduct in violation of civil rights and in violation of the policy.”
“This outcome demonstrates how the Title VI process can work to effectively protect Jewish students,” Greenblatt said in his own statement.
Around 100 students at Reed College are Jewish, or about 7% of the total student body, according to estimates from Hillel International. A request for comment to the director of PDX Hillel, which serves Jewish students at Reed and others in the region, was not immediately returned.
The resolution stems from two anonymous Title VI antisemitism complaints from Jewish former Reed students, both filed in 2024 under the Biden administration. One of those cases related to a student whose dorm-room mezuzah was vandalized, and who herself was later pelted with rocks, during a pro-Palestinian demonstration in spring 2024. The student later left the school out of concern for her safety.
Both of the described acts would have already been considered violations of school policy for reasons unrelated to the student’s Jewish or Zionist identity. Brandeis’s Katz-Prober argued both should have also been considered in the context of her targeting by anti-Zionist activists.
“It might be difficult for someone to, at first glance, understand whether it was simply an assault or an assault motivated by bias,” she said. The case, she said, demonstrated how in some cases, “‘Zionist’ is merely a codeword for Jew.”
Katz-Prober also touted the agreement’s mandate that the school bring on a third-party compliance consultant, separate from its Title VI coordinator. While she insisted that such a role would be “independent” and free of bias, she noted that both the ADL and the Brandeis Center would have a role in their selection.
“Both sides get a say,” she said.
The post Reed College agrees to sweeping reforms as part of Title VI antisemitism settlement appeared first on The Forward.
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Arizona Rep. Andy Biggs cruises to GOP nomination for governor amid allegations of antisemitism
(JTA) — Arizona Rep. Andy Biggs, who has drawn criticism for ties to white nationalist figures, will officially be the Republican nominee for Arizona governor, after winning the primary on Tuesday night.
Biggs, who is backed by President Donald Trump, has drawn criticism for encouraging Stew Peters, an internet personality, and appearing on his show. Peters has labeled Judaism a “death cult” and has called for a “final solution” that involves the deportation of American Jews, and multiple watchdogs identify him as promoting antisemitism.
“Keep preaching,” Biggs told Peters at the end of his June 2023 appearance on the show, during which they discussed government corruption and Biggs agreed with Peters that the FBI should be abolished.
Biggs, 67, who won handily with 73.4% of votes according to multiple media outlets, will challenge Democratic Gov. Katie Hobbs in what is expected to be a competitive race in November. Biggs has represented Arizona’s 5th Congressional District, which is outside of Phoenix, since 2017.
His opponent in the GOP primary, Rep. David Schweikert, had put out a campaign mailer in March tying Biggs to white supremacy and antisemitism. The mailer featured mentions of Biggs’ interview with Peters as well as Biggs’ endorsement of Texas GOP candidate Brandon Herrera, who owned a copy of “Mein Kampf.”
Biggs’ campaign did not respond to the Jewish Telegraphic Agency’s request for comment, but in a local TV interview last month he called the accusations politically motivated and said, “This notion that I am antisemitic is absolutely one of the most ludicrous, insane arguments ever.”
In 2024, Biggs opposed the bipartisan Antisemitism Awareness Act, which passed in the House of Representatives. Biggs wrote that he opposes antisemitism and that the “pro-Hamas, pro-genocide, anti-Israel events happening across the nation are sickening.” He rejected the legislation, he said, because it was “so poorly drafted that it violates the Constitution and could have serious ramifications for the Christian community.” Right wing Republicans objected especially to the bill citing a definition of antisemitism that included as an example the claim that the Jews killed Jesus.
That same year, Biggs attended a rally co-sponsored by the Proud Boys, an extremist militia style group. In 2019, he spoke at a “Patriotism over Socialism” rally in Arizona, which watchdogs warned would draw extremist groups.
Media Matters, a group that mostly monitors right-wing groups, in 2023 wrote that “the links between Biggs and far-right extremists have been well-documented,” citing among other things his ties to another far-right group, the Oath Keepers.
The Republican Jewish Coalition did not respond to a question over whether it would support Biggs’ run for governor.
At a campaign event on Tuesday, Hobbs skewered Biggs for his denial of Trump’s 2020 election loss, and for not acknowledging Hobbs’ narrow 2022 gubernatorial victory over Republican Kari Lake.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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