Last month, Amanda and I hosted an award ceremony broadcast around the world!
My first sentence was carefully crafted to make the event sound more glamorous than it actually was. What an intriguing hook, am I right? Well, that said, we did have a great time hosting a non-black tie affair.
But first, a quick and very related anecdote.
When I was in middle school, my sweet grandma Beverly drove me to run an errand. We passed a Hassidic Jew walking on the sidewalk. He was dressed head to toe in black in the middle of summer with a wide rim hat and curly payot (sideburns) on either side of his head. My grandma said to me, while pointing at the man, “That’s a Jew.” I was confused, because our family is Jewish. It’s not like I’d never seen a Hassidic person before. So I said bluntly, “Grandma, we’re Jewish.” To which she replied, “Yes, but that’s a real Jew.” It was a ten second interaction that had a profound effect on how I see myself to this day.
The award ceremony project began for me at shabbat. Every so often, Amanda and I go to our rabbi’s house deep in The Valley for a shabbat dinner and kibbutz with other members of our congregation, Keeping It Sacred (KITS). Rabbi Heather Miller, who we chose to officiate our wedding, founded KITS as a reform, inclusive, interfaith virtual congregation when the pandemic made it seem like Ready Player One was a looming inevitability. In 2025, Jews still go to temple in meat space (kosher), but KITS keeps growing. The congregations boasts hundreds of members across the country and the world with a mix of virtual and physical programs and services, such as the Rosh Hashana service we attended on Zoom last month. Despite Rabbi Miller’s invites, we don’t go to shabbat every month. I’m not a “real” Jew, after all, but I like to think of Amanda and I as surprise special guests. I do read her newsletter every week. She’s been a joyful, smart, and caring presence in our life for years.
In July, Amanda went to San Diego Comic-Con for work, and I decided not to tag along this year, because I was already planning to attend my first Gen Con and the thought of doing both on back-to-back weekends exhausted me to my core. So, with no dinner plans and a fear of ruining a nice pan making Trader Joe’s vegetable fried rice, I decided to drop in to shabbat services. I left after work to drive for a half hour through a winding network of hilly streets with confusing intersections. Somehow, in the era of Google Maps, I managed to get lost going to a place I’ve been many times before.
Anyway, I was late. When Rabbi Miller’s wife opened the door, she looked shocked. I thought it was because I was arriving so late the prayers were almost over. She quickly asked, “Where’s Amanda?!” It’s true that we’re together more often than we’re apart, but I didn’t think her absence would inspire this level of surprise, as though I arrived at the house with a living dodo bird or the unreleased Super Nintendo Playstation system prototype. (That last specific is just for me and entirely unnecessary.) We both had a good laugh over her shock and she invited me inside.
The evening was fun! After prayers, which were almost over, I had a lively conversation with a few congregants my age about why traditional media is struggling, and on the other side, why Quibi was such a massive and hilarious failure. It turned out that one of the other congregants grew up going to Gen Con and shared stories about what the show was like in the olden days.
After a tasty chicken and rice dinner, Rabbi Miller asked me something unexpected. She was throwing a 5-year anniversary celebration for KITS and wanted to know if I would host. There would be awards, speeches, cake, and dancing. I was pretty sure the rabbi didn’t know I was an actor and comedian in what feels like another lifetime. More to the point, since my marriage in 2014, I’ve only participated in KITS events sporadically. The high holy days, maybe a shabbat service here or there, but that’s it. I’m part of the community, but loosely, in the way feeding a neighborhood cat doesn’t make her your “pet.” I thought I was an odd choice, but in the moment, I didn’t want to let her down. The rabbi officiated our wedding and spoke eloquently at the funerals of my beloved great uncle Richard and great aunt Helena. I liked the karma of hosting such an important event for her, so I said yes with only a moment of hesitation.
A few days later, she emailed Amanda and I the details. Rabbi Miller didn’t technically ask if Amanda wanted to do it. Like her wife, I think she assumed the two of us came in a pair, like the Super Nintendo and Playstation would have if Nintendo hadn’t stabbed Sony in the back at a trade show. So I had to explain what the rabbi was talking about to Amanda and formally ask whether she was interested. I made it clear she was under no obligation, because no one asked her! As it turns out, Amanda was happy to host with me. She likes to perform every once in a while. During the pandemic, we hosted a podcast together for Sony Music called Dirt Cheap, which we still get compliments on to this day. Amanda once told me that she would love a job where she was just paid to talk. This gig wasn’t paid, but that didn’t matter. We both love our rabbi and wanted to help her out.
Rabbi Miller sent us a script for the event. It was fine! It wasn’t us, but it was perfectly good. The voice of the writing was explicitly Rabbi Miller’s, who has a gentle, relatable sense of humor that was distinctly not shaped by the endless pool of irony comedy nerds like us have been swimming in since we were kids. I asked if we could put our lines more in our voice and she excitedly agreed. So Amanda and I did a punch-up session. At the beginning of the show, I would announce to the live audience and on Zoom that were broadcasting from Universal Studios, only for Amanda to correct me and say we were at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Studio City, an entirely different place! My mix-up became a running gag, concluding with my insistence that the Minions ride should be considered a “sacred space” in the Jewish tradition. Honestly, this was the most fun part of the whole experience. I savor any opportunity to write with Amanda. We make each other laugh in such a genuine way. The context of this being an event to honor our rabbi gave the assignment a level of pleasant strangeness, much more so than The Phenomenals, which ended up becoming a traditional dating sim with corporate mandates. In this assignment, we were more free.
We gave the script to Rabbi Miller for her review. I wasn’t entirely sure what she would think of our weird sense of humor, including a joke where Amanda segues to “Celebration” by Kool and the Gang by introducing it as, “a song about celebrating, good times, and come on!” Well, the rabbi loved our script. Her only notes were that she prefers “Rabbi Miller” to “Rabbi Heather” (I’ve been calling her that for over a decade oops) and to mention the new KITS coffee mugs. She thought the Minions jokes would go over really well with the children in the audience, which I knew she meant as a generous compliment and my ex-comedian lizard brain took as backhanded jab because show business poisoned my brain.
We arrived at the Univeralist church early to rehearse. Rabbi Miller printed two copies of the script for us. I asked if she happened to have a highlighter. She didn’t, but looked in the pulpit and found a yellow marker that would do the trick. “The Lord provides,” she smiled, buzzing off to check on the lox spread.
The event was so charming and well put-together. There was a big map on stage with faces of congregants from around the world. (There were many in Southern California. So many, in fact, that our own faces were technically in Hawaii.) They had lox, bagels, fruit, and a moist, delicious birthday cake for lunch. The church was pretty much full and the Zoom room was buzzing. The rabbi presented awards to many deserving folks, like a Social Justice Partner award to Pastor Cue, an activist and Skid Row preacher who DJ’d the dance party afterwards. Amanda and I had a lot of fun with the performance. We were playful and energetic hosts, who kept the proceedings lively. At least, that’s what we were told by several audience members who thanked us afterwards. Apparently, my Minions joke – which did kill with the kids, exactly as Rabbi Miller predicted – led to an off-shoot discussion at one of the adult tables about whether a theme park could be considered a sacred space. See, the joke had layers! (Entirely unintended.) You can watch our opening monologue here, up to the 2:30 mark.
In a text afterwards, Rabbi Miller thanked us. She said our joyful spirits lifted the congregation, because we brought energy and authenticity to the role. Exactly the kind of open hearted “notes” that are soul quenching as an artist. I texted back that it was an honor and a pleasure to host, and we were thrilled to be part of this global community.
Huh. Was I part of the KITS community? Or just the neighborhood cat? They say a big part of life is showing up. But maybe it’s not so much about how often you show up, as how authentically you show up when you’re there. Maybe that’s what makes people feel like they’re part of a community. When they can be themselves and feel loved and supported for who they are. At my temple growing up, most of the service was in Hebrew and I went solely out of obligation. At Hebrew school, I was a nerdy boy in a class of popular suburban girls. I wished I could spend Sundays with my actual friends instead of at yet another school. And according to my grandma, we weren’t even real Jews anyway, so what was the point of it all?
Rabbi Miller and the congregation at KITS make me feel like I belong in a Jewish space. That’s a rare feeling for me. Something I’ll think deeply about the next time I’m in the ride queue for Despicable Me: Minion Mayhem.
🎲 Your Turn: What communities are you part of? Do you feel like it’s easy for you to belong to a community? Or do you struggle with fitting in and feeling comfortable? How does your identity shape your art? I’d love to hear your experiences. Reply directly to this email or hit the orange button below to leave a comment.
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