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‘Succession,’ ‘Barry’ and the very Jewish nature of unresolved endings

This story originally appeared on My Jewish Learning.

(JTA) — Over the past few weeks, a lot of sad faces were peering at their screens as two popular television shows came to an end. Two HBO staples, “Succession” and “Barry,” aired their season finales in late May. And as happens with all high-drama prestige television, the debates began the moment the episode was over. Did Kendall deserve what he got? Was justice served for Mr. Cousineau? Without revealing any details, it is fair to say that many fans were left with that gnawing feeling of an unresolved ending.

TV endings were not always this way. Decades before “The Sopranos” famously concluded with its cut to black, shows typically concluded with a nice emotional ribbon — loose ends tied up, characters discovering the promised land. On “Cheers,” Sam returned to his bar. “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” ended with an actual group hug. On “Friends,” Ross and Rachel finally got together. “M*A*S*H,” still the most watched television finale of all time, ended with the main character finally returning home, wistfully looking from a helicopter to the word “goodbye” spelled out in stone. The episode was aptly titled, “Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen.”

Then everything got darker and grittier. Today, TV fans have come to expect unsettling, unresolved and even unhinged endings to their favorite shows. I am here to say that such conclusions are quintessentially Jewish. The Torah itself is an ode to unresolved endings.

As you may already know, the Torah concludes (spoiler alert!) with the death of Moses on the edge of the promised land. I take it for granted now, but imagine reading this for the first time. What?! The leader of the Jewish people, who brought them out of Egypt, received the Torah on Sinai and led them through the desert for 40 years doesn’t live happily ever after in the promised land?

If the Torah were an HBO show, fans would have been outraged. Shouldn’t the final scene have seen Moses walking arm and arm with the Jewish people across the Jordan River, the sun slowly setting as the credits roll? Instead, we are left with our beloved leader buried right outside the land he yearned to enter. Why does the Torah end this way?

Franz Kafka — himself no stranger to unresolved endings (The Trial” ends with Joseph K. being beaten “like a dog”)— took an interest in this question. He writes:

The dying vision of it can only be intended to illustrate how incomplete a moment is human life, incomplete because a life like this could last forever and still be nothing but a moment. Moses fails to enter Canaan not because his life is too short but because it is a human life.

In Kafka’s reading, the Torah’s ending reflects the larger reality of human life itself, which is “nothing but a moment,” an exercise in incompleteness. Our personal narratives don’t fit neatly into a box. They don’t have ribbons on top and rarely end with group hugs. Human life ends unrequited, ever yearning, ever hoping. As Aviva Gottlieb Zornberg writes in her magisterial biography of Moses: “Veiled and unveiled, he remains lodged in the Jewish imagination, where, in his uncompleted humanity, he comes to represent the yet-unattained but attainable messianic future.”

And that is perhaps why I love abrupt endings most. They reflect the fabric of life itself. As David Foster Wallace once observed of Kafka’s narratives, they emphasize “[t]hat our endless and impossible journey toward home is in fact our home.” What is more human than an ending that just recursively folds into another beginning of longing and hoping? Moses’ unrealized dream and legacy continues, and begins again, in the minds and hearts of those captured by his story.

So save your group hugs for sitcoms. Real life doesn’t have a neat ending. We continue the journey where the last generation left off. An ending that perpetually endures.


The post ‘Succession,’ ‘Barry’ and the very Jewish nature of unresolved endings appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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In ‘Waiting for Godot,’ the tragedy and comedy of the Jewish experience

Seventy years ago, in the Coconut Grove Playhouse in Miami, of all places, the curtain opened on the American premiere of Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot. The theater had promoted the play as the “laugh sensation of two continents.” By intermission, half the audience had walked out. My guess is that few of them were laughing.

Of course, Beckett had the last laugh. His two-act play,  one in which the critic Vivian Mercer famously quipped that nothing happens — twice — became arguably the most influential and iconic play of the 20th century.

Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart in a 2009 production of ‘Waiting for Godot.’ Photo by Dave M. Benett/Getty Images

Since the theatrical debacle in Coconut Grove in January 1956, the world has not only come to terms with the play, but it has literally become the play. Of course, this happens on an individual scale, where each of us, in countlessly different ways, finds there is no way forward. No less alarmingly, it unfolds on a global scale as well, one where the world seems to be waiting, with a mixture of dread and hope, for the arrival of, well…what?

Don’t ask Beckett. He almost always insisted he had nothing to say about his plays, not to mention contemporary events. This claim is reflected in stage sets as bare and bleak as the dialogue — dialogue which gradually withers into monologues, then drifts into the mute gestures of mimes. When a French radio producer who was preparing a show on the play asked what it meant, Beckett told him, “All that I have been able to understand I have shown. It is not much. But it is enough, and more than enough for me.”

This was not enough for Bert Lahr, best remembered as the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz, who had been cast as Estragon in the Coconut Grove production. His son, the theater critic John Lahr, recalled in a New Yorker essay that the elder Lahr was terrified not that he would forget his lines, but instead that he would never understand them. Still, the younger Lahr who, when he was 14, ran the play’s lines with his father, recalled: “If Dad was mystified by the play’s idiom, he understood all too well its psychological terrain: waiting, anguish, bewilderment.”

There are certainly clues enough to the play’s meaning in the world wracked by world wars and cold wars, genocidal regimes and totalitarian ideologies, the poisoning of our natural resources and denaturing of our political discourse. Obviously, Beckett could not fully remove himself from this world. As one of his favorite thinkers, Arthur Schopenhauer, observed, even Dante mined the material for his hell from his medieval world.

Similarly, Beckett found his hell in a modern world ever more brutalized in ever more technologically advanced ways. The play’s stage set — a bare tree, an empty road, a rocky mound — suggests the world that, a few years earlier, had been the scene of death camps and death marches. As a volunteer at a pile of rubble that was once a hospital in the liberated, and almost entirely obliterated, French city of Saint Lô, Beckett saw firsthand the unfathomable cost of total war. He was no less stricken by what the war cost European Jewry. As Germany defeated and occupied France in 1940, Beckett was among the earliest recruits to the French resistance. He was appalled by what the Nazi occupation meant for French Jews, including his friend Alfred Péron. (When Beckett’s resistance network, “Gloria,” was uncovered by the SS, he just managed to escape to southern France, but dozens of fellow résistants, including Péron, were captured and imprisoned.)

Though it is always a dicey matter to connect settings and dialogue from fiction with those from fact, there are instances in Godot that, like Estragon, beg for such attention. An early exchange between Didi and Gogo anticipates the work on antisemitism by Hannah Arendt, who managed to hide in Montauban, a city a few dozen kilometers from Roussillon, the city where Beckett was hiding.

Vladimir: Your Worship wishes to assert his prerogatives?
Estragon: We’ve no rights anymore?
[Laugh of Vladimir, stifled as before, less the smile.]
Vladimir: You’d make me laugh if it wasn’t prohibited.
Estragon: We’ve lost our rights?
Vladimir: [distinctly] We got rid of them.

Or take another exchange between the two displaced and disoriented friends, one that evokes what was revealed to the world with the liberation of Auschwitz.

Vladimir: Where are all these corpses from?
Estragon: These skeletons.
Vladimir: Tell me that.
Estragon: True.
Vladimir: A charnel-house! A charnel-house!
Estragon: You don’t have to look.
Vladimir: You can’t help looking.

There are many other clues, some so obvious that Beckett dropped them from the final draft. For example, Estragon was originally named Lévy. (More than 1,500 individuals by that name, the most common Jewish name in France before the war, were deported to the death camps.) Or that estragon, as commentators have remarked, is a bitter herb that is rooted in the practice of Passover.

But to over-emphasize these possible meanings of Beckett’s play is to underestimate a broader and deeper meaning. Didi and Gogo offer something of immeasurable value — apart, that is, from uneasy laughter. They embody the virtues of solidarity and compassion — virtues that, paradoxically, go hand in hand with Beckett’s pessimism. In this tragicomedy, there are luminous moments of goodness, as when Didi cares for Gogo by offering him carrots, calming him with a song, and covering his shoulders with his own coat while Gogo sleeps.

For Beckett, this was and remains, as Pozzo declares in the play, “a bitch of a world.” And yet, Gogo and Didi, who always threaten to go, nevertheless always fail to do so. Of course, this offers a very dim prospect. But the image of these friends reminds us that Beckett never gave up on humanity. We must not, either.

The post In ‘Waiting for Godot,’ the tragedy and comedy of the Jewish experience appeared first on The Forward.

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Rep. Jared Moskowitz becomes latest Jewish lawmaker to reveal antisemitic threats

(JTA) — The messages that Rep. Jared Moskowitz said he received at his office were filled with obscenities, calls to “kill Jews” and warnings that the Florida Democrat would be “going down.”

Moskowitz played the voicemails during an interview with CNN’s Sara Sidner on Friday as he described a sharp rise in antisemitic hostility against Jewish lawmakers since Oct. 7, a trend he said reflected a broader normalization of antisemitic rhetoric in American public life.

“We seem, Sara, to have passed a Rubicon now with these antisemitic threats,” Moskowitz said. “It used to be once in a while you’d see a swastika on a building, once in a while, you know, someone would say something online. Now it’s every day, all the time, on podcasts, online, in the media, in the halls of Congress, and they’re trying to get Jews.”

CNN played multiple messages that illustrated Moskowitz’s point, with Sidner warning viewers that what they would hear was “deeply disturbing.”

Moskowitz, who is Jewish, said the spate of threats had caused him to need a police officer stationed outside his home 24 hours a day, since a man was sentenced to prison for plotting to kill him in November 2024.

“The U.S. government needs to kill Jews, you kill these f–cking nasty Jews, kill every single f-cking Zionist scumbag,” a caller said in one of the voicemails. “Zionism is treason to ‘we the people’ in our U.S. Constitution. Kill Israel.”

Another caller left this message: “Hey you Zionist Jew f-cking pig. How about no more money for Israel? Funding Israel, stealing more of our money for Israel. F-ck Israel, let them f-cking burn to the ground. You’re going down too, sir.”

Moskowitz is far from the only Jewish lawmaker to report a rapidly increasing number of antisemitic threats and harassment in recent weeks. The shift comes as both parties grapple with internal tensions about how to handle antisemitism within their ranks, and as anger about Israel and the Iran war funnels more attention to U.S. Jews. It also comes amid rising political violence in the United States.

“It’s no longer a Republican and a Democrat [issue],” Rep. Max Miller, a Jewish Ohio Republican, told Axios this week. “Both ends of our parties are wackadoos who hate Jews.”

Miller received a message warning that “antisemitism is on the rise because you guys think you own the f-cking world,” according to Axios, which said the caller added, “You guys are going to be shot dead every f-cking day.”

Among the messages highlighted by a recent Axios report on the phenomenon was a letter sent to New York Democratic Rep. Jerry Nadler, in which one constituent wrote that “Hitler was spot-on, 100% right about the filth that you Jew-bastards, you kikes are.” In a voicemail left for Ohio Democratic Rep. Greg Landsman’s office, one caller said, “I don’t like Jewish people, and the congressman should just go die.”

The lawmakers say the phenomenon is new. “Across the board, we have never seen anything like this in my lifetime in public office,” Jewish California Rep. Brad Sherman told the New York Times last month. “It’s like you turned the volume up from two to 10.”

The volley of antisemitic threats has also spilled into the real world, with Miller reporting last year that a man had attempted to run him off the road while calling him a “dirty Jew.” Last year, a man set fire to the residence of Jewish Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro hours after his family hosted a Passover seder there.

“We need good people to not be quiet,” Moskowitz said when Sidner asked him what message should be sent in response to the rise in antisemitic rhetoric targeting lawmakers.

“There are people out there, they may disagree with U.S. policy, they may not like the leader of a country, but they shouldn’t be allowing antisemites into their movement,” Moskowitz said. “They should not be embracing this sort of behavior, because they’re trying to win some sort of political point. It should be obvious.”

Moskowitz’s comments echoed a growing debate over the normalization of antisemitic rhetoric within American politics on both the left and the right, with Jewish lawmakers and watchdog groups warning that language once relegated to the fringes has increasingly become mainstream.

Last week, Texas U.S. Senate candidate James Talarico told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency that he would not campaign with Maureen Galindo, a Democratic congressional candidate in Texas who says she wants to open a “prison for American Zionists” among other incendiary remarks. Talarico said in a statement that “antisemitic rhetoric has no place in our politics.”

On Wednesday, Sen. Rand Paul’s son William apologized after he made repeated antisemitic comments directed at New York Republican Rep. Mike Lawler, who is not Jewish, including calling Jews “anti-American.”

Moskowitz told CNN that, while people may criticize the Israeli government and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, the voicemails left at his office illustrated “how quickly, you know, they go from Zionism to Jews, Israel to Jews.”

“Listen, if you don’t like Netanyahu, great, go out and criticize him all day long,” Moskowitz said. “But don’t let people into your tent that you know are threatening to kill my family or my kids.”

The post Rep. Jared Moskowitz becomes latest Jewish lawmaker to reveal antisemitic threats appeared first on The Forward.

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Jewish groups denounce fatal shooting at San Diego mosque, say it proves need for security funding

(JTA) — Jewish groups are denouncing a fatal shooting at a mosque in San Diego in which three people, including a security guard, were killed. They are also saying the incident, which follows attacks on synagogues, underscores a need for more federal funding for security at houses of worship.

Police in San Diego said they are investigating the attack on the Islamic Center of San Diego as a hate crime. San Diego Police Chief Scott Wahl said two teenagers, ages 17 and 19, who appeared to have carried out the attack were found dead of self-inflicted gunshot wounds in a car nearby.

“We are heartbroken by today’s attack on the Islamic Center of San Diego. Islamophobia has no place in California or anywhere in this country,” Jesse Gabriel, chair of the California Legislative Jewish Caucus, said in a statement. He added, “We are committed to working with our colleagues to strengthen protections for houses of worship and combat hate-motivated violence.”

The attack, which occurred at about 12:30 p.m. local time, sent five area schools into lockdown, including a Hebrew charter school.

“We’re safe and we’re following the direction of the police,” a representative for Kavod Hebrew Charter School told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency by phone on Monday afternoon. Kavod is a non-religious bilingual K-8 school that employs a number of Jewish and Israeli educators.

A synagogue that houses a school in an adjacent neighborhood also said it was briefly locked down in the immediate aftermath of the shooting.

The mosque attack comes two months after a man rammed an explosives-laden truck into one of the largest synagogues in the United States, Temple Israel in Michigan. There, the synagogue’s robust security training was credited with halting the attack. Children were inside the adjacent preschool at the time.

“The images coming from San Diego are all too familiar to us,” Temple Israel said in a message to its community that it posted to social media. It said that one of its rabbis, Jen Lader, was in Washington, D.C., to lobby for $1 billion in federal security funding for houses of worship.

Jewish Federations of North America said it had more than 400 local Jewish leaders in Washington to lobby for the security funding, which it said was necessary to protect religious communities from threats that are “real, urgent, and growing.” The $1 billion ask is a centerpiece of JFNA’s response to growing security concerns and would represent more than a doubling of federal spending on security needs for houses of worship.

“To anyone who feels this is excessive, what happened to Temple Israel two months ago, and now, the Islamic Center of San Diego, proves that it is not optional funding,” Temple Israel said. “Every dollar will be necessary to protect houses of worship all over the country.”

Imam Taha Hassane of the Islamic Center of San Diego, which includes a mosque and the adjacent Al Rashid School, said teachers, students and school staff were safe.

“At this moment, all that I can say is sending our prayers and standing in solidarity with all the families in our community here, and also the other mosques and all the places of worship in our beautiful city,” Hassane said during a press conference Monday afternoon. “They should always be protected. It is extremely outrageous to target a place of worship. Our Islamic Center is a place of worship. People come to the Islamic Center to pray, to celebrate, to learn.”

Law enforcement across the country are tightening security measures in response to the attack in San Diego.

“While there is currently no known nexus to NYC or specific threats to NYC houses of worship, out of an abundance of caution, the NYPD is increasing deployments to mosques across the city,” the New York Police Department said in a statement.

The post Jewish groups denounce fatal shooting at San Diego mosque, say it proves need for security funding appeared first on The Forward.

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