The dating frontlines are crazier than ever, and 2024 promises to include even more lunacy. Clear patterns emerge if you hang around somewhere long enough. There are three commonly-asked questions that I get asked on dates. I wanted to answer “thank you for asking! I’ve written it all down in an article, and I’ll send you a link by AirDrop” (I don’t date people who use Android phones) but that wasn’t practical because I hadn’t written them down. Until now.

Question One that I get asked in 2024 is highly intrusive and dives straight into personal medical history. “Are you vaccinated?”. Yes, but the question is really a euphemism for “I believe the propaganda that COVID vaccines make people infertile, I want to have kids someday, so I want to know if your body is still fit for procreation, as well as recreation?”

I want to share that, yes I had two vaccine shots and one booster, no I wouldn’t have any more because I stopped believing in their efficacy, yes plenty of people have still had children after receiving a vaccine — including one of my best friends, whose two beautiful daughters are a living antidotes to this meshugas – and no, we will not be having a second date.

Question Two is more complex, and gets asked on 90% of dates: “Why haven’t you been married before?” Possible answers range from the respectful – “great question, I’m glad you asked” (except I’m not), the evasive – “don’t know”, the existentially bewildered – “ask Hashem!”, the paranoically-despairing – “it’s my sub-average looks!” “My off-center Jewish nose!” “My sub-6-foot Ashkenazically-challenged lack of height!”;  to the subject-deflecting “who do you think really blew up the Nordstream 2 pipeline?”

Admittedly the cadence of that paragraph does remind me of favorite monologue from my favorite 19th-century French play “Cyrano de Bergerac,” which in turn sounds like a completely pretentious sentence, but at this point in the date I’d willingly face rejection for pretension as a trade for having to sit through another minute of those dates.

The problem with the “Why haven’t you been married before?” line of questioning is that it feels too Freudian-therapy-on-a-couch for a relaxed getting-to-know-you conversation. 

The problem with the “Why haven’t you been married before?” line of questioning is that it feels too Freudian-therapy-on-a-couch for a relaxed getting-to-know-you conversation. It’s also the subtext for three other questions:  1) What is wrong with you that you’re still single?;  2) Do you have the emotional awareness to know what is wrong with you?; 3) Can you learn from that diagnosis, display the emotional intelligence to acknowledge your mistakes and personality faults, and have you taken sufficient action from this self-reflection to change course? 

At this point on the date I just want to talk about who really blew up the Nord Stream pipeline. Or anything else. Except question three. 

Question Three is “What are you looking for?”  Wrong answers include “someone just like my ex-girlfriend,” so a safe zone is something non-specific like “I’m looking for a smoking-hot heiress of child-bearing age with ailing parents and no siblings”.

Question Four is the nightmare. Fortunately it is rarely asked, but when it is, my cover has immediately been blown, it’s cards-on-the-table time, and there is nowhere to hide. It goes like this; “I did some research before meeting you, and wondered if I will end up being written about in one of your satirical dating columns?”

Obviously the answer is no! Definitely not. It’s probably unlikely. Well, it’s fair to say that it’s quite unlikely. It really depends on how bizarre the evening gets. And whether it turns into a story. The most honest answer would be “OK, everything has its price, if I can recoup some of the financial losses from these decades of tragicomedy dates by selling the story to the highest bidder, then it’s a “yes”,  at which point I pull out a release form from my briefcase, dial in my lawyer as a witness on Facetime, and ask my date to sign on the dotted line.

The best question of all time was “PLEASE can I get mentioned in one of your columns?” As a direct response to her question, hello to Rebecca in Chattanooga, Tennessee! (Obviously I have changed her name and location for both anonymity and discretion, since her name isn’t really Rebecca, but it’s Claire, and she lives in London, England).

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Marcus J Freed is an actor, author, marketing consultant and founder of The Jewish Filmmakers Network. www.marcusjfreed.com, www.freedthinking.com and on social @marcusjfreed. 

“The best way to have an affair without feeling guilty is to sleep with your therapist.” – Richard Lewis

Richard Lewis had Parkinson’s disease and died from a heart attack. He was 76.  When the news broke of his death, the calls came in as if a member of my immediate family had passed. One after another, people texted and emailed me that they were sorry for my loss. So many people knew and loved him. 

That’s the thing about great comedians. People love them. They feel like they know them. A great comedian gets into your soul. They are the ones that many people go to when their lives get dark.

Like any boxer who had a rough childhood and comes out punching, so did Lewis. Instead of punching with his fists, he punched with his jokes. 

“I’m in Pain,” “I’m Exhausted,” “I’m Doomed” and “The Magical Misery Tour” are the names of four comedy specials written by and starring Lewis. His pain was his credentials — he wore it on his sleeve. Lewis also starred alongside Larry David in “Curb Your Enthusiasm.”  Larry David said after Lewis died, “He had the rare combination of being the funniest person and the sweetest. And today he made me sob and for that, I’ll never forgive him.”  

The first time I saw Lewis live was around 1975 at The Improvisation Club in Hell’s Kitchen New York on 44th and 9th. Lewis would destroy a crowd like so few before him and a handful since. He was dangerous. He was one of the best club comics in the history of nightclubs. 

When I was thinking about becoming a comic, seeing Lewis perform could have easily dissuaded me. Imagine you wanted to be a violinist and one of the first people you saw perform was Jascha Heifetz. When I saw Lewis, my head exploded. Lewis was my Heifetz. His pain was his Stradivarius. He was a genius. Like Michelangelo, he sculpted each comedy bit into perfection. 

At times he looked like a caged animal.  He ran his fingers through his hair, hair needing to be both cut and washed. He would confess his sins and foibles to a room of strangers while under a bright light looking worried and sweating like he was being interrogated. He would look down at the floor and then quickly lift his head to the skies. Free-formed and set loose, he would say almost anything about anything that gnawed at him. And the laughter from the crowd was proof he was not alone. 

More than any of his family, his audience got him. Lewis shared his pain on stage. And trust me, Lewis was in pain. I loved Richard Pryor and Lenny Bruce, who along with Lewis were the most honest and likable of all the soul-bearers. But I loved Lewis more because I could relate to him more since he was Jewish. 

Thank God, Lewis found stand-up comedy, both for his audience’s sake and for his. He said, “Comedy is the art of turning pain into laughter.” 

Lewis did something most comics can’t do.  He remained a force for most of his career. He said, “I’ve learned that laughter is the best response to adversity. It disarms life’s challenges and gives us the strength to keep going.” And Lewis had adversity. Lewis was an alcoholic and drug addict but thank God, got sober a few decades back. No more needing to dull his soul with drink and drugs. He faced his angst head-on while being clean and sober. I would call him yearly to congratulate him on his continuous sobriety.  

One of the last times I saw Lewis on stage was in Brea, California at The Improv. I sat slack-jawed and bewildered as to how someone could be that open and that funny. 

When I asked him to be on my podcast, he told me he was in too much physical pain. That was maybe two years ago. After multiple surgeries, Lewis’ pain was not relieved. So not only did he spend much of his life in mental anguish, but he also spent his last few years physically in pain.

He did what we are all supposed to do.  What God wants us to do. That is to lift the spirits of our fellow travelers.  

Everyone who knew Lewis spoke of how kind he was. He had a smile that could stop the rain. He did what we are all supposed to do.  What God wants us to do. That is to lift the spirits of our fellow travelers.

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Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer, and host of the ‘You Don’t Know Schiff’ podcast. His new book is “Why Not? Lessons on Comedy, Courage and Chutzpah.”

I recently watched a YouTube video filmed last year in which a Jewish woman tried to have a respectful conversation with a virulently anti-Israel student at UC Berkeley. I was in awe of her courage, grace and cogent arguments. She didn’t need to be there, on a campus where a riot recently broke out against Jewish students in response to an Israeli speaker, and in a city whose school district is now being accused of knowingly tolerating “antisemitic bullying,” according to a federal complaint. 

At one point in the video, a male student screamed in the woman’s face and called her a “dumb motherf—-r.” Another male student referred to the woman and the pro-Israel students surrounding her as “you people,” prompting her to respond, “It’s not ‘you people.’ Don’t discriminate. I’m a person. My name is Noa.”

I’m referring to Noa Tishby, the New York Times best-selling author of “Israel: A Simple Guide to the Most Misunderstood Country on Earth” and Israel’s former Special Envoy for Combating Antisemitism and Delegitimization. A prolific actress, producer and activist, Tishby, a Tel Aviv native now living in Los Angeles, has completed her second book, “Uncomfortable Conversations with a Jew,” co-written with best-selling author Emmanuel Acho, available in late April. 

Witnessing Tishby’s bravery also made me think about actress and activist Debra Messing. Like Tishby, she confronts vicious antisemites with resilience and grace. Messing, who was born and raised in Rhode Island, spoke at the Nov. 14 rally for Israel in Washington, D.C. and recently visited Israel. She sat with soldiers and victims of Oct. 7, simply offering to listen to their stories. I adore Messing for this, and for the fact that she is constantly posting Instagram videos reminding all of us, especially young Jews, not to be afraid. 

And then there’s my childhood friend, Mandana Dayani, a visionary entrepreneur and creator and co-founder of “I Am a Voter.” Dayani, who escaped post-revolutionary Iran as a little girl with her family, also recently traveled to Israel, visiting the remains of decimated kibbutzim in the south and speaking with victims of Oct. 7. Dayani is fearless when it comes to exposing antisemitism and defending (and celebrating) Jews and Judaism, especially on social media. She shares this wonderful fearlessness with Tishby and Messing. 

In honor of International Women’s Day on March 8, I decided to ask each of these extraordinary women two simple questions. Of course, the female victims of Oct. 7, the female IDF soldiers and medics, the mothers and wives of fallen soldiers and so many more Israeli women are heroes who should be honored each day. But day in and day out, women like Dayani, Messing and Tishby are battling antisemites and putting much on the line in defense of Israel and the Jewish people. Their responses to my questions reminded me of “Eshet Chayil,” King Solomon’s tribute to the Jewish woman in the Book of Proverbs, which begins by asking, “A woman of valor who can find? Her value far exceeds that of gems.”

Jewish Journal: For years, you have been targeted online by relentless antisemites, and the hatred directed against you has perhaps never been more acute than in the last five months. From where do you derive such admirable courage and clarity to confront one antisemite or ill-informed person after another? 

Mandana Dayani: Everything I have ever done has been rooted in my commitment to upholding humanity and advocating for more rights for more people. And as we see misinformation being weaponized to divide us and propaganda being deployed with the clear agenda to delegitimize Israel and dehumanize Jews, I refuse to be a participant in the dissemination of more hate and divisive language in this world. 

Progress is not taking rights from one group of people to give them to another. The violence and targeting of Jews today is not activism. It is a witch hunt fueled by bots, propaganda, and an alarming mental health crisis around the world.

“I believe the majority of the world disagrees with the radical ideologies of the mobs inciting violence. We cannot pander to extremists because they are louder or scarier.” – Mandana Dayani

I will continue to ask for more people to do the right thing, to stand up against hate, to share fact-based information, and to lead with compassion. I believe the majority of the world disagrees with the radical ideologies of the mobs inciting violence. We cannot pander to extremists because they are louder or scarier. 

Debra Messing: What has given me strength when the hate and accusations start to penetrate is moral clarity. I always return to “What is my purpose?” I believe [that] because I was given a platform, that it is my responsibility to use it intentionally. I know that antisemitism and anti-Zionism are racism. I know all racism is wrong. I know Israel is the ancestral homeland of the Jews, and I know Israel has a right to exist. I know that I have facts behind me and that it is possible to hold my beliefs about Jews and Israel and also hold compassion for, and acknowledge the suffering and painful history of the Palestinians. 

Noa Tishby: The Berkeley event was intense and hostile. So I am glad it didn’t end up with anybody physically attacking me. I get my strength first and foremost from my mom. When people ask me how I’m such a strong woman, I literally brush them off and send them to my mother because she is the fiercest woman I have ever met. She’s never met a fight that she didn’t want to take on and it’s always for what she thought was right. I think I get my strength from her, along with my sisters, my dad and my entire family.

“I don’t get fazed out by bad comments or when people attack me. I just know that we need to be strong and united and fight for what we know is right.” – Noa Tishby

I also have a very strong compass of what’s right and what’s wrong, and that’s why I’m unmovable on those issues. I don’t get fazed out by bad comments or when people attack me. I just know that we need to be strong and united and fight for what we know is right. There is an unprecedented level of Jew hate that is rising right now and the only way that we can fight against it is to be firmly planted in who we are and stand up against it and not be afraid. So I honestly attribute all of that to my mother, Yael Artzi. She is just incredible.

Jewish Journal: How has your identity as a Jewish woman inspired and informed your tireless advocacy on behalf of Israel and the Jewish people, whether before or after Oct. 7? 

Mandana Dayani: My identity as a mother and activist is deeply rooted in the influences of the strong, brave matriarchs of my family. Our family was held together by their unwavering courage, fortitude, and commitment to upholding the traditions that defined us. 

So many of the values of our culture — welcoming the stranger, tikkun olam, compassion, curiosity, hope, resilience, and a commitment to upholding family and community — all define my activism. My advocacy has always tried to perpetuate these values and to bring in others to do the same — to advocate for humanity as a collective. I sort of see advocacy like a Shabbat dinner table — we always leave the door open and seats available at the table so others can feel welcome and join in. 

Oct. 7 completely shook me to my core. The unspeakable violence we witnessed that day and the unimaginable hatred and propaganda that has since taken hold of so many around the world, woke up many of us in the diaspora. As someone who fled the terrorist leadership of my homeland [Iran] for the opportunity to live safely as a Jew, I believe that my safety and security are inextricably linked to Israel. And I am never going to stop advocating for a world free of that same terrorism that seeks to destroy all the values I mentioned above and democracies around the world.

“I am a proud Jew and it is impossible for me to see the massacre of our people by a terrorist group and not scream out that it is wrong.” – Debra Messing

Debra Messing: I was raised by two very proud Zionist parents. They taught me that it is our responsibility as Jews in the diaspora to protect Israel. I was taught that Israel is precious. I am a proud Jew and it is impossible for me to see the massacre of our people by a terrorist group and not scream out that it is wrong. I know our history of persecution and feel a new potent unity amongst our very diverse Jewish community. I will always stand with the Jewish people and the Jewish homeland. We are all intertwined.

Noa Tishby: I talk about my identity a lot in my first book. My identity was shaped more as a secular Zionist than as being Jewish. I grew up in a very secular family, I always tell people I had never been to a synagogue before I moved to Los Angeles. It’s a beautiful thing because it allowed me to reach my Jewish identity from an independent place and find it for myself. 

I think that living in America as a Jewish person, as an Israeli, after taking being Jewish for granted for so many years, allowed me to connect to it at an entirely different level. I did an event a couple years ago and this rabbi came up to me and said “I read your book, and do you know why God invented America? So Israelis can remember that they’re Jewish.” And I started laughing, but it resonated with me because my Jewish identity was essentially shaped after moving into the diaspora and finding for myself how brilliant and inspiring and beautiful and smart and deep, ancient, diverse and poetic our culture and traditions are. It is such a blessing.

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Tabby Refael is an award-winning writer, speaker and weekly columnist for The Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles. Follow her on X and Instagram @TabbyRefael 

To the Disconnected Jew,

You were born a Jew, but that’s about it.

Perhaps you haven’t stepped foot in a synagogue since your bar or bat mitzvah.

Maybe you only go to services on Yom Kippur. 

You might have some Judaica your parents owned; you stash it in a drawer tucked away in your home, but you never take it out. 

To the Disconnected Jew, 

You saw those Chabad Jews in your neighborhood, and thought, “Really? That’s so antiquated. Get with the times. Dress normal like the rest of us and just blend in. Maybe if you did, the world would stop hating us.”

You believed that all this religious stuff was just nonsense. Those stories were made up. The Torah can’t be real. Why would God be so angry and punish us and need our constant praise? 

It’s all a fairytale, you thought. Grow up.

To the Disconnected Jew,

You didn’t have one Jewish friend. You didn’t live in a Jewish neighborhood or work with other Jews. 

You were in one big melting pot, and you liked it that way. You weren’t different from anyone else. You could just be a human among humans – that’s it. The way it should be.

To the Disconnected Jew,

You saw what happened on Oct. 7. 

“Same stuff, different day,” was your first reaction. “Israel is always at war,” you thought. “There will never be peace. The Middle East is a mess. Where was God in all of this?”

Oct. 7 gave you another reason not to believe — just like the Holocaust, where your family members died. 

“God was absent then, and He’s absent now,” you thought. “If God is good, how come the world is such a dark and depressing place? It doesn’t make any sense.”

To the Disconnected Jew,

After Oct. 7, you saw what your friends were posting on social media, those vile lies about Jews. 

You turned on the TV and watched as Jewish students were being shouted down and attacked on college campuses. 

You watched as swarms of hateful protesters took to your city streets and shouted genocidal slogans and promoted the annihilation of Jews everywhere. 

To the Disconnected Jew,

You started to feel scared. You began feeling alienated from your friends — or the people you thought were your friends. 

They posted news articles about how Israel is awful and protested against it. They didn’t reach out to ask how you felt. 

You looked around at work, in the grocery store, while taking a walk. Would someone recognize you as a Jew and attack you? Would you be safe?

To the Disconnected Jew,

We know what you are going through. We understand your struggles. We acknowledge your pain. 

And we have some news for you: Your Jewish brothers and sisters are here, waiting to embrace you with open arms. 

To the Disconnected Jew,

It’s never too late to take a stand.

It’s never too late to find God. 

It’s never too late to proudly declare that you are a Jew.

We don’t care about what you did in the past. 

We only care that you’re here now. 

To the Disconnected Jew,

Every Jew has a Pintele Yid inside of them, that small Jewish spark that can grow bigger and bigger and envelop you in Jewish joy.

Every Jew has a Pintele Yid inside of them, that small Jewish spark that can grow bigger and bigger and envelop you in Jewish joy.

You have discovered your own Pintele Yid. You’re joining a growing number of Jews who are reconnecting post-Oct. 7.

We can’t wait to show you the incredible value of living Jewishly.

We are excited to invite you to Shabbat dinner, to illuminate the beauty of our traditions, to talk about what’s happening in the world and offer you comfort during a deeply distressing time. 

We are your community, we are your brothers and sisters, we are your family. And we love you.

To the Reconnected Jew, 

Welcome home. 

Have you reconnected with your Judaism post Oct. 7? Email me: Kylieol@JewishJournal.com.

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Kylie Ora Lobell is the Community Editor of the Jewish Journal.