Esther D. Kustanowitz
Writing, Editing & Creative Media Consulting
New Content Coming Soon…
0Much new content to come in the next week or so, but I’m operating on a short delay due to a business trip to Los Angeles. Stay tuned, and you shall be rewarded, I promise…
“Saved” (American Jewish Life)
118 years ago
Angela Himsel grew up as part of a fringe Christian cult that demonized doctors, makeup, feminists, the Magic-8 ball, and even Christmas. Instead they worshipped Jesus and, quite oddly, celebrated the Jewish holidays. Flash forward a few decades. She’s now a convert to Judaism (married to a rabbi’s son no less), has three children, and is wrestling with the demons of her past.
Angela Himsel doesn’t look like your average former cult member. The redheaded Manhattan mother of three is unquestionably attractive, even without the makeup that she wears. She wears her openness in her smile and her confidence sparkles in her eyes, which seem to flash both blue and gray, conveying a vision that parallels the clarity she has spent a good portion of her life seeking. But there are moments during our conversation when Angela’s eyes widen, and I see the eternally curious child within, still asking “Why?” and still involved in the ongoing process of self-discovery.
As a child, Angela and her nine siblings were part of a Christian sect known as the Worldwide Church of God (WCG). Not a typical cult in the Jonestown or Branch Davidian sense, the church still certainly fit the major criteria: it was led by a charismatic leader (in the WCG’s case, a man by the name of Herbert Armstrong) and required families in the church to give significant portions of their income — framed as “tithes” — to charity.
Despite the lack of poisoned Kool-Aid, Angela is certain that the WCG faithful would have done anything for their leader. Because Armstrong preached that modern medicine was the tool of Satan, she explains, “People died of ruptured appendixes, curable illnesses. If someone was depressed or mentally ill … anything wrong with you was probably Satan, or a demon doing Satan’s bidding. If Armstrong had asked people to sacrifice their lives for him, I actually believe they would have,” Angela says, shaking her head.
To see the entire article, visit the beautiful AJL Magazine website, here.
“High School Revisited” (Jewish Week-First Person Singular)
118 years ago
High School Revisited
by Esther D. Kustanowitz
October 27, 2006
Back in high school, popularity was a cliche. There were varsity jackets, and even though there were no cheerleaders in yeshiva high schools, there were popular girls who would have seized a set of pompoms were they to be given rabbinic authorization to do so. Academic achievement was a given, but the varsity Jews were our physical elite, admired for rising above the cerebral success so long associated with our people, ascending to a place of physical strength. Even in a school that assigned points for Jewish values, high scores on the court sometimes meant more. Even in yeshiva, the social order followed secular norms: jocks at the top, nerds at the bottom.
In those days, one of the worst things you could call someone was “nerd.” Or “geek.” Or “four-eyes.” Being smart was nerdy enough; knowing how a computer worked was like the social kiss of death. You could use a computer for video games, but with Atari and Nintendo, you had self-contained gaming units; to master Pac-Man or Donkey Kong it was no computer required. And you’d certainly never mention having seen Star Wars 47 times.
Toting hardware used to be a bad thing. (Pocket protector, anyone?) But in 2006, being smart or involved in technology isn’t necessarily unpopular. Sure, high school is probably still a challenge. But today, geeks are role models. They created Windows, revolutionizing the way computers are used. They took “Al Gore’s Internet” and developed a tool that people can’t imagine living without. People live online: instant messaging, e-mailing, downloading, gaming, buying more stuff than anyone could conceivably need at Amazon.com and eBay. Without world nerd-dom, we wouldn’t have file-sharing or iPods. Today’s pocket protectors are a business must-have–they’re called BlackBerrys. Today, everyone is a nerd at heart. Kids today own their nerdiness in an inspiring and holistic manner. Even cool kids are tech geeks, with their Sidekicks and plasma screens. Bloggers are arguably the most vocal kind of neo-nerd, but they–OK, we– wear the badge proudly, as it conveys a literate, passionate force of the opinionated, the vox populi given a platform. In high school, we might have suffered in silence. But time is the great equalizer. Nowadays, either literally or figuratively, we all wear glasses.
Because things have changed, we should face facts and readjust our expectations. Today, there are many more nerds than jocks, many more geeks than cheerleaders. These facts should provide us with a comfort zone of the cerebral. But anecdotally, experientially and in conversations overheard (OK, eavesdropped on) at Starbucks, our dating expectations are still totally out of whack. Women claim to want smart Jewish guys, but also want them to be strong, tall and non-nerdy. And men, literally sitting at the same table, say “I’ll go out with anyone, as long as she’s hot.”
As adults, we’ve recontextualized our nerdiness as normal. But inside, we’re still the faded remnants of whoever we were in high school, still playing by junior varsity rules. We believe we’re open-minded. But we’re probably not–maybe because we’re socially conditioned to believe that aligning with geeks will drag us back down, while “dating up” grants an all-access pass to communal acceptance. And the message of such an upward socially mobile alliance is recognition by someone “worthy” who sees that we are more than just our labels.
Which, of course, we are. Jewish singles are bodies and brains, hearts and ideas, values, personalities and quirks. Jocks may pick their noses, and cheerleaders may snore unattractively. A guy with a facial scar may not be dangerous, and a woman who’s endlessly peppy may not be happy. Our outsides don’t always match our insides. We’re all walking wounded, containing the shards of our adolescent selves; it’s called baggage because we take it everywhere.
The eternal dating challenge is to seek lasting relationships that elate us but which are still grounded in viable reality. Lowering expectations from “too high” to “reasonable” is not “settling”–it’s “being realistic.” But here’s the rub: Only by accepting ourselves for who we are can we expect the same of others–whoever they were then, or are now. Whatever our outside appearance, we’ve always been who we are. And even if life has transformed us from pimply teens to confident adults, on the inside, we are still us.
Esther D. Kustanowitz has seen Star Wars about 47 times and often wears her glasses.
“Recommitment Ceremony” (First Person Singular)
018 years ago
Recommitment Ceremony (Jewish Week–First Person Singular)
by Esther D. Kustanowitz
(09/29/2006)
To err is human, clearly. And during the High Holy Day season, even those of us who acknowledge our errant ways and engage in the process of repentance with a pure heart still possess the fatal flaw of our humanity. As soon as the hunger pangs from the Yom Kippur fast wane, we’re back on stage in our tragicomedy of errors, slinging gossip over bagels and lox, and likely violating any Rosh HaShanah resolutions before sunrise on the 11th of Tishrei. Another year goes by, and we’re back in our synagogues, proclaiming our guilt all over again in an endless annual loop—it’s like an episode of “The Twilight Zone.”
What’s the point in persisting in this annual dance of repentance?
In the literal realm of human marital relationships, some couples, after five, 10, 20 years or so, decide to proclaim to the world that the person they’ve found is the person they still want to spend their lives with. They hold “second weddings” or “vow renewals” or “recommitment ceremonies,” inviting friends to witness the re-consecration of their partnership. But often, such ceremonies are prompted by the discovery of a breach in confidence or respect or another violation of the rules of sanctified relationships. Or perhaps the pair has survived a trauma and feels the need to reaffirm—not just for the sake of celebrating love in the public eye, but to put their own souls at ease—that despite all that has happened, their mate is still the One.
So the two stand there, opposite each other, looking into the eyes of their beloved and looking for a trust and commitment that they may not find. A partner may admit that he or she has made mistakes, and may swear before you and a group of people that from here on in, it’s all faith and devotion. But there’s a part of you that’s unsure: can people really change?
The relationship between God and the Jewish people is often cushioned in the metaphorical language of marital commitment. In Genesis, God made a covenant — sealed in flesh in the form of a brit milah (circumcision), which promised the Land of Israel to Abraham and his children. The terms of the agreement — God gives the land of Israel to the people, and the people will worship God — are reiterated at Mount Sinai. The term that God uses to refer to the people is segulah, which indicates a special, sanctified relationship like marriage.
And a midrash on the Mount Sinai narrative interprets that when the text says that the people stood b’tahteet ha’har, literally “in the bottom of the mountain,” that the mountain was suspended, chupah-like, over the heads of the assembled people — were they to try to end the relationship with God, they would have been crushed. And some suggest that Song of Songs, which describes a physically passionate affair — seemingly between a man and a woman — is a metaphor for the relationship between God and the Jews.
When it comes to actual marriage, something I admittedly don’t know anything about, I imagine that certain violations are forgivable and that others are not. At some point the two people who make up the zug (the couple) have to assess whether the relationship is worth it. But in the relationship with God, in which we have no way of really knowing whether God has forgiven us, the best we can do is see this annual assessment as a state of the union between the Jews and God.
The High Holy Day season is a chance to renew our relationship with Jewish life. Every year, we stand with our metaphorically wedded partner under a canopy of recommitment, and promise to marry each other all over again. As our Creator, surely God knows not to expect perfection — our entire relationship has been a bumpy cycle of imperfection: We violate our contract of commitment with God, and God rebukes but quickly forgives.
Still, we do what we can to make positive changes in our lives, to increase our commitment to living as nobly and morally as human beings can. We critically assess our actions and hopefully forgive ourselves as we attempt to curb evil inclinations, in the pursuit of more permanent partnerships, with other people and with God.
22 Days…
018 years ago
by Esther
in Online Clips Archive
In the 22 days of this month, I’ve written about “My Name Is Earl,” “Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” a love coach who compares looking for a mate to trying to catch a cab in NYC, weddings, Orthodox women singing, and John Zorn’s genius grant–with a side of Stephen Colbert.
If you missed any of these vital commentaries, feel free to check out “Recent Writings.”
To all my fellow Jews out there, wishing you a happy and healthy 5767. May it be a productive and peaceful one.
I’m Huge in Germany…
0Dear readers, please take out your copies of Judische Allgemeine: Wochenzeitung fur Politik, Kultur, Religion und Judisches Leben, and turn to page 22 (the back page). Now find the “Dies & Das” section, and the headline “Da war doch noch was,” which is a purported translation of this post that I wrote over at JDaters Anonymous.
So that’s it, my first German byline. As soon as I figure out how to post a PDF on this site, it will show up in my “Recent Writings” page…
“Hailing a Date” (Jewish Week–First Person Singular)
018 years ago
by Esther
in Online Clips Archive
Hailing A Date
NY Jewish Week–First Person Singular
September 15, 2006
One of the biggest transportation mistakes that new arrivals to New York make is trying to hail a cab that’s already full. As taxi after taxi zips by, they begin to wonder what’s wrong with them. “People catch cabs in the city every day; why won’t any of them stop for me?” The answer, they soon learn, is simple: Those cabs are already otherwise occupied — there’s no room for you inside.
Import the metaphor to the dating realm and you’ll wonder why you didn’t think of it sooner. Cabs, like people, have to be available before you can snag one going your way. While I’d like to take credit for this analogy, I can’t. That honor belongs to Nancy Slotnick, professional dating coach and author of the recently published “Turn Your Cablight On: Get Your Dream Man in 6 Months or Less” (Penguin).
In her “former life,” Slotnick was a corporate recruiter, but tired of talking about people’s jobs. “What’s the most important component to people’s happiness? Their love life. But there’s a big stigma in admitting that you’re single and looking — as if they’re saying that they need someone to be complete,” Slotnick observes. “If you really want to be with someone, you have to show you’re available and turn your light on. If your light isn’t on, then no one is going to flag you down.”
Seems simple enough — turn on light, admit you’re looking and get dates, right? But some of those cabs you see down the road — their lights seemingly ablaze to indicate availability — are actually sporting “off-duty” lights. Only when they’re right in front of you can you tell “available” from “off-duty.” And by that point, you just really want someone to take you home.
I’m an Idol Chatterer
018 years ago
As some of you might have noticed, I’ve been posting quite a bit over at Beliefnet’s Idol Chatter blog. Most recently, I wondered if Kabbalah has failed the Ritchies (that’s Madonna and her husband, to those of you who didn’t know), and broke news of the new Hebrew Hammer sequel being dangled over Hollywood.
In addition to my posts, you’ll find writers of all religious persuasions and denominations blogging about that special place in the universe where pop culture and religion intersect; Idol Chatter features varied stories, from the state of the Church of Jon Stewart to Lindsay Lohan’s purported embrace of karma, and discussions of Jeremy Piven’s Star of David in those Gap ads and any imminent spiritual issues raised in or by the new television seasons crop of freshman shows.
Here’s my latest, “Spirituality and Slayage.”
For more of my Idol Chatterings and for links to other writings online, see “Recent Writings by Esther” page of this site. Don’t forget to leave comments…
“Wedding Bell Blues” (Jewish Week–First Person Singular)
318 years ago
by Esther
in Online Clips Archive
“Wedding Bell Blues”
New York Jewish Week, First Person Singular
September 1, 2006
Weddings are magic. The details have come together according to plan. Two people have found each other and decided to spend their lives together, no matter what fate brings them. The bride looks like a queen; plus, she has special powers.
On her wedding day, the Jewish bride has the “Bridas Touch” — a temporary condition in which, particularly under the wedding canopy, her marital fortune is contagious. While she’s under the canopy accepting a ring from her betrothed, she gives single women her regular jewelry to wear, for added luck. The remainder of wine from her glass is also imbued with special powers and distributed to single wedding guests; this “segulah” wine is a Red Bull energy drink for the uncoupled, increasing the inherent bashertiness of the imbiber.
The bridal wizardry begins even before the ceremony. When the mothers of the bride and groom break a plate before the ceremony, signifying that a kinyan, or transaction, has taken place, the shards are given to single women for good luck. At my brother’s wedding, I reached into my purse during the reception, and promptly sliced my finger open on such a lucky shard. Luckily, a handsome doctor with a great sense of humor came to my rescue, cleaning the wound with vanilla vodka and suturing it using frayed napkin strands. After cocktails and dancing, we hid from the crowd under the Viennese Table and he told me he loved me — that table of delicious pastries serving as chuppah to our love. (Or if you prefer the truth to literary license: The finger-slicing was followed by a band-aid, and a hora, during which some other dancer impaled her four-inch heel in the center of my big toe.)
Whether bridal luck exists or is just an old bride’s tale, weddings themselves are as much a display to the community as they are a celebration of couplehood. Weddings are supposed to motivate the rest of us to achieve similar stability; to inspire other walkings-down of aisles. We are meant to take our places, two by two, in the parade of matches, happily marching toward the goal of founding a bayit ne’eman b’yisrael, a faithfully Jewish home for your newly expanded family.
But it’s not that easy. In celebrating love, weddings also shine an unwanted spotlight on the absence thereof. Sometimes, when weddings fail to inspire, singles begin to sense that we have failed the community and ourselves and perhaps the incredible shrinking Jewish people. When we sit as wedding spectators, we are, of course, happy for the happy couple. But those of us who are selfish enough to also want that spiritual and emotional connection for ourselves — magical incantations be damned — sit there, hands folded in our laps, legs crossed demurely, holding magic jewelry and shards that — like life — may cut or cure us. Well-intentioned seating plans and awkward introductions to the only other single person at the wedding in hopes that sparks will fly, makes us embittered, angry and sarcastic, as the futility is reinforced. We wait for the ceremony to be over so that the thinking can end and the drinking can begin. Maybe, if we dance fast enough to this generic set of songs, adrenalin will reign, reinforce our external displays of celebration and prevent the tears from coming. In these moments, we’d give anything to believe in a little magic.
When I dance in honor of my friends, it’s not the rhythm that eludes me, it’s the fervor. And what impedes the enthusiasm is the fear that, for whatever reason, I’ll never get there myself. I can’t imagine myself there, in “the dress.” Tendrils and ringlets seem unnatural and unattainable on so many levels; a white dress so impractical for a klutz like me. There seems to be an interchangeability here that erases individuality — the bride loses herself and becomes a construct, an object, a vision in white, taking her place in the structure of the wedding and community as society has deemed she should.
Even trying positive visualization, imagining myself there so I can someday get there in three dimensions, I don’t know where I stand — I’m a romantic who believes it’s possible, a cynic who doubts the potential. I try to imagine myself enjoying the certainty and confidence of true companionship, when clichéd melodies will seem bereft of the lyrical platitudes that my ears discern today, because the crowds will clamor in support of a love elusive and long-awaited, and a day that contains equal parts miracle and magic.
Esther D. Kustanowitz is really happy that her married friends found each other and hopes that they don’t read anything into this column.
“Coming Attractions”
018 years ago
by Esther
in Online Clips Archive
Coming Attractions
by Esther D. Kustanowitz
New York Jewish Week, First Person Singular
August 18, 2006
When my friends and I moved to New York City after college, theater and high culture were out of our price range. But at the movies, we found affordable, air-conditioned entertainment. Popcorn was always extra (in terms of both coins and calories), but a secret bonus was included in the price of admission: Before the film started, we were treated to numerous movie trailers, designed to entice us into future movie ticket purchases and to create buzz for upcoming film releases. We’d predict how many trailers we’d get, and be delighted when we got more than expected. Based on how good each preview was, we’d make our decisions right there — “no way!” “totally!” and “maybe on DVD.”
In the dating world, several mechanisms operate as trailers, setting us up with overly vast expectations or none at all, and causing us to make instant judgments about the people we meet as romantic potentials. If we’re looking, we’re often “treated” to previews of the main attraction before we even determine whether the featured presentation holds any attraction at all. The movie judgment mechanism is activated. Bearing little information, we discard potential dates before we ever meet them, or elevate our expectations to such a level that no man or woman alive can ever hope to reach them.
“Have I got a guy for you,” your friend says. “He’s perfect for you — good-looking, a great sense of humor, and oh, so smart!” You’d like to believe her, but how does she know he’s perfect? And “perfect for you?” You’re not even sure you know what that means. Someone else might try the reverse pitch, complete with built-in disclaimer: “I don’t know her that well; she seems nice enough…” or “She’s single, you’re single, why not?”
But the truth is that these pitches are largely meaningless. Sometimes good trailers happen to bad movies, and vice versa. On the whole, we understand that perfection is impossible and that taste is highly subjective, even within a specific genre. But often, the inconsistency in the perceived quality of the trailers makes us suspicious and reluctant to even try, lest we experience disappointment. (Again.) Either case leads to pain. It might be quicker — if less nuanced and more painful — to follow this simple three-part process: Take gun, aim down, shoot self in foot.
And then there’s online dating, itself an experiment in great, and often misplaced, expectations. Everyone has a different system of approaching the online dating “trailers.” Do you assess someone’s profile content or IM/email style? Or do you judge by the photos, because similar personalities don’t mean anything if there’s no attraction? And what to do when the “preview” seems to indicate inconsistencies? For instance, if someone with a great profile can’t write a good email or someone with a perfunctory profile writes amazing correspondence.
Even images cannot be trusted. In a movie preview, you’re sometimes viewing footage that’s either stripped of context or, in some cases, doesn’t appear in the film at all. In online dating, confusion also reigns over photos, which are widely understood to be only partial and biased representations of the people who posted them.
But even when you take that leap of faith and decide to meet someone, you protect yourself. You’ve experienced other promising trailers which didn’t deliver. Even if initial contact has been encouraging, you maintain low expectations. And when you start at zero, expecting to find nothing, all you notice are cosmetic flaws — that her eyes aren’t symmetrical or that he snorts at the end of every laugh. The bullet hole in your foot begins to smart, reminding you of how you got here to begin with.
The movie trailer is only a brief representation of a larger work. Some trailers surpass the greatness of the film, others don’t do justice to the special, somewhat quirkier “indie” qualities that the full-length opus provides. It is the rare preview that authentically represents the feature presentation. And seeing too many previews in advance of a main attraction can distract you from your primary objective, the reason you bought your ticket to begin with.
You’re in the theater already. You’ve already bought into the process. Be considerate. Keep your feet off the seats and turn your cell phones off before the lights go down. If you’re lucky and open-minded, you’ll experience a blend of action, adventure, romance and pratfalls, making you laugh and cry in just the right balance, and leaving you with a feeling that you’re a part of something special.
Esther D. Kustanowitz likes to see movies on summer weekends, when you actually have a shot at not being in a packed theater with people kicking your seat. She can be reached at jdatersanonymous@gmail.com.