All Three Stooges

by Erica S. Perl

  Rabbi Jake, who’s like a junior rabbi, got everyone’s attention by announcing, “This year, we’re trying something new.” Rabbi Fred and our cantor, Phyllis, beamed like Rabbi Jake was their son and he had gotten straight A’s on his report card.

  None of us kids beamed back. At my house, “trying something new” often means dinner will be something like tempeh kebabs with cashew curry. Which is actually not all that bad, but it’s not as good as veggie burgers. Did I mention that when Enid became a vegan, we became a no-meat house, though the rest of us still eat cheese and eggs?

  “As you guys know,” Rabbi Jake said, “Rabbi Douglas is on a ‘rabbatical’ in Israel this year, so I’m stepping up to help Rabbi Fred with the mitzvah project. Before Rabbi Douglas left, he told me that we’ve gotten feedback from previous b’nei mitzvah classes. Apparently, the mitzvah project piece of the experience often feels like a chore. Something you have to do to check it off a list.” I couldn’t really argue with him there—I am not a big fan of chores, like cleaning Spud’s cage. “This made us think,” he continued. “How could we use this time better to create opportunities for collaboration, community learning, and—dare I say it—fun?”

  Rabbi Fred and Phyllis nodded in agreement. Around the room, kids were looking at each other nervously. I could tell that a lot of us were expecting the next thing to come out of Rabbi Jake’s mouth to be a pitch for all of us to spend our weekends cleaning up the overgrown weeds lining the Capital Crescent Trail. So I was surprised by what came next.

  “We’ve decided to let you guys come up with a theme and have each of you research something or someone that’s connected to the theme. Then we’ll have an all-community event for you guys to present your work and celebrate all that you learned.”

  Noa raised her hand, a look of concern on her face. “How is that a mitzvah?” she asked.

  “Well,” said Rabbi Fred. “Think of it as a gift you’ll give to the community: sharing your time and your knowledge. And also, we’d like you to identify a charity that’s somehow related to your theme so that you can raise funds and provide a grant.”

  More hands went up.

  “So, we can pick anything? Like…skateboarding?” asked Chris Stern.

  “We’re not saying no to any subject per se,” said Rabbi Jake, spreading his hands wide and casting a nervous glance in the direction of Rabbi Fred.

  “Here are the basic parameters,” explained Rabbi Fred. “One, we’re just going to ask you to look at your topic through a distinctly Jewish lens. So, for example, that might mean profiling famous Jewish skateboarders.”

  “I’ll take ‘Famous Jewish Skateboarders’ for two hundred!” I called out, Jeopardy!-style. I got a couple of laughs for that.

  “Or maybe an Israeli-Palestinian skateboarding club,” suggested Phyllis.

  Rabbi Fred nodded. “Exactly. If there is such a thing. Is this making sense? Two, you’re going to need to work in teams, ideally of three or four. And, three, everyone needs to vote, and whichever theme gets the most votes wins. Majority rules. Okay? Any questions?”

  Around the room, hands went up. Including mine, but Rabbi Jake called on Maya Edelstein instead. She wanted to know if we could do Harry Potter. Rabbi Jake smiled. “I actually thought about that one,” he said. “I think yes, and there are several ways you could do it. One would be to create a midrash for some of the ethical issues that the characters in the series confront, and figure out what the Torah might say about them.” When Maya looked disappointed, he added, “We can talk more about that later. Midrashim can be kind of like fan fiction.” She perked up at the sound of that.

  Rabbi Jake fielded several other questions. Finally, he called on me.

  “Do you have to work with your bar mitzvah partner?” I asked. I meant it to sound more casual, but I had been waiting so long that the question just launched itself like a rocket. Noa glared at me. She looked like a bee getting ready to sting.

  “You can choose to work with your bar mitzvah partner,” Rabbi Jake said, flipping my question rather than answering it. “And/or anyone else in the b’nei mitzvah class. The whole point here is creative collaboration.” He paused and looked around the room for other questions.

  “Noah,” said Rabbi Fred, pointing at me when Noa and I both turned, “when we shift gears, can I see you?”

  The minute our brainstorming time began, Rabbi Fred led me out to the hallway to suggest that I work on being more sensitive to the feelings of others, as well as more open-minded. “It’s been my experience,” he advised, “that sometimes, when you least expect it, people can surprise you.” I told him I would, and the minute he released me, I ran back into the library, where I found Dash deep in conversation with…Noa? She was telling him some long story about going to some museum and getting to see some attic.

  To demonstrate that I could be sensitive to others (and open-minded), I didn’t interrupt her. However, all around the room, I could see that kids were excitedly discussing project ideas. Noa kept right on talking to Dash. Finally, I couldn’t wait any longer. When Noa took a breath, I caught Dash’s eye and blurted out, “Jewish comedy! That could be the overall theme and we could do our part on Seinfeld. Awesome, right?”

  “Noah, come on,” said Noa. “I was just saying to Dash that we should suggest Anne Frank, or the Holocaust in general, as a theme. I think that’s a lot more important than skateboards or comedy.”

  She said it with more than a little disdain, and to my total amazement, Dash opened his mouth and said, “She’s got a point.”

  “Maxx!” I said pointedly. “How can you say that? We’re talking Seinfeld here. No offense, but the Holocaust?” I saw the look of horror on Noa’s face and quickly added, “As a topic, I mean! Sure, it’s important, obviously, but we’ve been studying it forever. It’s kind of been done to death.”

  “Noah!” yelled Noa.

  “Not like that!” I said. “You know what I mean.”

  “We’ll see what the rabbis have to say about your idea,” said Noa snippily.

  As if on cue, Rabbi Jake said, “Guys, guys!” and clapped to get everyone’s attention. Then he held out one hand, palm up, and Chris Stern sullenly surrendered the fingerboard deck he’d been playing with. “Okay, I love the energy, and I’m hearing some great ideas here. Who wants to share some possible themes?”

  Noa raised her hand and waved it like a flag. When Rabbi Jake called on her, she tried to sell her idea about the Holocaust and making a model of Anne Frank’s house and all the other cool stuff people could do. A couple of the kids nodded like it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world, but the response seemed pretty lukewarm.

  “Okay, good suggestion,” said Rabbi Jake, putting it on the list. “Anyone else?”

  I raised my hand again. Other kids got called on, and more ideas were added to the list: skateboarding, Harry Potter, horses, Jews in the NFL. Finally, Rabbi Jake shot me a stern look. Since no one else’s hand was up, he had no choice but to call on me.

  “I think a good theme would be comedy. Jewish comedy.”

  “Interesting,” said Rabbi Jake, and he said it in a way that sounded like he actually meant it. Rabbi Jake isn’t, like, ha-ha funny, but he definitely shows signs of having a sense of humor.

  Encouraged, I went on. “Yeah, so there are lots of famous Jewish comedians that we all know, like Jerry Seinfeld, and Ben Stiller, and—”

  “Amy Schumer’s Jewish, too,” added Deena.

  “Right!” I said. “And Jon Stewart and Andy Samberg…”

  “Adam Sandler,” yelled Chris.

  “Tina Fey!” called someone else.

  “Actually, Tina Fey’s not Jewish,” I said, “but lots of other comedians are.” That got everyone buzzing, but I knew I needed the rabbis on board, so I quickly added, “Plus, we could learn about a whole bunch of classic comedians that not many people our age have heard of, like Henny Youngman…“

  “Groucho Marx, Billy Crystal, Jackie Mason,” said
Rabbi Fred. “You know, Noah, you might just have something there.”

  “Thanks!” I said, trying not to be too in-your-face about it to Noa. The noise level in the room rose as everybody started arguing about their favorite comedians and who was funnier and who was Jewish or not. We took a vote, with paper ballots and everything, but it was totally obvious that my idea was a grand-slam win. I was shocked and totally stoked. I had never won anything before, not even Class Clown in our sixth-grade yearbook, because this kid named Karl Shevchenko was an actual clown, like from a circus family. If the kids at my school weren’t so literal, I would’ve won that title, easy. But this was even better!

  Once it was decided, we were supposed to break up into groups to decide which comedians we wanted to study. Someone even suggested that we should call the all-community event the Kings and Queens of Comedy Cabaret and all dress up as famous Jewish comedians.

  “Quick,” I told Dash, “let’s sign up for Seinfeld before someone else takes it. We can be Jerry and George.”

  “Sure,” he said. “And Noa could be Elaine.”

  “Yeah! Wait, what?” I couldn’t believe my ears. “Dude, Rabbi Jake said we didn’t have to work with our bar mitzvah partners.”

  “I know, but it’s supposed to be teams of three, right? Plus, I think she’s kind of bummed about her idea not getting picked.”

  I glanced over. I could see he had a point. Noa was sitting there reading a book while everyone talked excitedly around her. I knew it was the right thing to do, but I couldn’t help feeling a little irritated. Dash didn’t know what it was like to always have to be stuck with her every single time.

  And then I had my second brilliant idea of the day.

  “I know!” I said. “Let’s not do Seinfeld. I have an even better idea. Come on.”

  Dash followed me over to Noa, and I jumped right in.

  “Hey, Noa,” I said. “Dash and I were hoping you’d form a team with us. We have a great idea and we want you to be part of it.”

  “You do?” said Noa, looking up with excitement. But then, almost as if she smelled something fishy, she closed her book and eyed me suspiciously. “What’s the idea?”

  “We can do the Three Stooges!” I said. “All three of them were Jewish. Four if you count Shemp, which I don’t.” I added that last bit for completeness because, technically, Shemp was a Stooge, too, even though he wasn’t one of the big three: Larry, Curly, and Moe.

  “The Three Stooges? Aren’t they those guys who hit each other and stuff?” asked Noa.

  “I mean, sometimes,” I said. “But they’re really funny. You’ll love them!”

  Of course I knew that there was no way she would. Dash and I had watched a lot of Stooges clips, most of which involved the Stooges slapping each other or poking each other in the eyes or crashing through a three-level bunk bed. None of which seemed to me like things Noa would like.

  “Plus,” I added, “the Stooges made lots of movies before and during World War Two. They even made fun of Hitler. So there’s history there.”

  “I guess that could be interesting,” admitted Noa. I knew she’d take the bait! I ran over to Rabbi Jake’s whiteboard and signed us up to seal the deal.

  —

  The next day, Noa confronted me in the hall at school.

  “Moe, Larry, and Curly?” she said pointedly.

  “Yeah?” I said.

  “I suppose I’m Curly?”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because, duh!” She leaned down so we were nose to nose and grabbed a big handful of her thick, curly red hair for emphasis. I couldn’t help it—I pulled away and started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” said Noa.

  “Curly…,” I said, choking out the word between laughs. “Curly…is the…bald one!”

  “No, he’s not,” said Noa.

  “Yeah, he is,” I said. “Did you even, like, watch any?”

  “I googled them,” said Noa. “There was a picture.”

  “You can’t understand the Stooges by looking at a picture. You have to see them in action.” I thought quickly. “How about this? Next week, Dash and I can show you some of our favorite clips at Hebrew school. It’ll make sense then.”

  “I doubt that,” said Noa before stomping off to class.

  My plan was working! And soon we would settle this once and for all. We would show Noa the Three Stooges and she would hate them and refuse to work with us.

  Unless…she liked them?

  No, that wasn’t possible.

  —

  The following Tuesday, Dash and I got special permission from Rabbi Fred to use some of our skills class time for our research. So instead of working on our chanting, we sat around a screen in the temple library and introduced Noa to the Three Stooges. Noa was taking the whole thing really seriously. She had her notebook and pencil case out, ready to take notes. That seemed like a surefire way to suck the fun out of any endeavor, but since we were getting out of skills class to watch videos, I wasn’t going to say anything. We led off with I Can Hardly Wait, one of my favorites. It starts with the Stooges breaking into what looks like a safe but is actually a refrigerator. It felt weird to be watching it during daylight hours, not to mention watching it with someone other than just Dash and Dash’s dad.

  Dash clicked play, and the Stooges came to life, making breakfast while slapping and punching each other and calling each other names. I started giggling before anything even happened because I knew what was in store for us. Within the first five minutes, Curly ends up putting mustard all over Moe’s hand and trying to eat it like a sandwich. Then Moe dunks Larry’s face into a pot of boiling water. Dash and I love it when Larry grabs his nose and wails, “Ohh! You burnt my little bugle!”

  “Whaddya think, Curly?” I asked Noa. I had told Dash about her thinking Larry was Curly because of his curly hair—we had a good laugh about that.

  Noa hit pause and turned to face us.

  “You think this is funny?” she said, looking appalled.

  “Yeah!” I said, thrilled that the clip was having exactly the effect I’d hoped for.

  “It’s funny because you know what’s going to happen,” Dash explained, “then you watch it happen and you see them react to it happening.”

  “But they’re hurting each other,” said Noa. I almost thought she was going to cry. “How can you laugh at that?”

  “No one’s really getting hurt,” Dash reassured her. “It’s slapstick. It’s all choreographed, like wrestling. Or ballet. My dad showed us lots of clips like this. This kind of humor goes back to Shakespeare or even earlier. Wait, take a look at this.”

  He pulled up another clip. Not the Three Stooges, but an old silent film called Mr. Flip, which includes the first pie-in-the-face gag. It’s about a guy who keeps misbehaving with women, and the women make sure he gets what’s coming to him. They poke scissors under his chair, they spray him with shaving cream and seltzer. And, of course, he gets a pie in the kisser.

  “See,” said Dash.

  “Uh-huh,” said Noa, her eyes fixed on the screen. You could tell the fact that there were women doing pranks to get a guy back for being a jerk made it better for her. But that wasn’t the point, so I quickly pulled up another Stooges clip.

  “What’s with all the nyuk-nyuk-nyuks and woo-woo-woos?” Noa asked.

  “It’s like a cappella sound effects,” said Dash. “They did a lot of stuff like that to make the humor really exaggerated.” He reached over to give me the two-finger eye gouge, but I pulled back and went “Woo-woo-woo!” Then I bent forward to set up that thing where you fling your arms out to fake slap the other guy—

  At which point I hit Noa’s pencil case, sending her pencils and pens flying in all directions.

  “Noah!” wailed Noa, standing up abruptly.

  “I’m sorry!” I yelped, diving for the floor.

  “You’ve got to be more careful,” she scolded, even though I was already on my hands and knees scram
bling to collect her things. “If we’re going to do this, we have to make sure we deliver a really polished presentation. I don’t have time for messing around. My bat mitzvah is in six months.”

  “So is my bar mitzvah,” I reminded her, handing over everything I’d collected off the floor. “Wait, you still want to work with us?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “But…you don’t like the Stooges,” I said, confused.

  Noa seemed to take this as a compliment. “It’s true, I have a more sophisticated sense of humor,” she boasted. “But I could see how others might find them funny. Plus, they’re historical, so there’s that.”

  —

  “Well, that went well,” I said sarcastically to Dash after Hebrew school. We were standing out in front of the temple, waiting for our rides home.

  “It was your idea,” Dash reminded me.

  “Yeah, but if you hadn’t been so encouraging about her stupid idea, I wouldn’t have had to come up with it in the first place,” I argued.

  Just then, I saw Gil walking up. He gave me kind of a salute, then gestured with his head toward where his car was parked. There were a lot of parents coming and going, but no sign of Frau Blue Car yet.

  “Don’t blame me,” called Dash, jogging down the steps to join his dad, then hanging back to get in position. “Blame my sidekick.” He went to kick his dad in the butt jokingly. It was a bit they often did to each other. Gil would see it coming and grab Dash’s foot in midair. Dash would end up hopping up and down, howling, while his dad held on with one hand and tried to give him noogies with the other. But today Gil didn’t even seem to notice when Dash kicked him.

  “All right, kiddo. Enough clowning around. Let’s go,” said Gil. “See ya, Noah.”

  I stood there, surprised. Dash’s dad usually called me dude, not Noah. “Wait, did my moms say anything to you about driving me?” I asked.

  Gil shook his head. “Do you need a ride? If you do, hop in. I’m just in a bit of a rush, and I need to get Dash to his mom’s.”

  “Nah, I’m okay. I just— Wait, never mind.” I saw Jenny waving from where she was double-parked across the street. I called out to Dash, who was already in the car, “Hey, Maxx. We’re still on for Saturday night, right?”