Circumcise Me – Onstage

The true test of a man’s faith resides in what he is willing to sacrifice. Israel Campbell proves his devotion to his faith three times over in Circumcise Me, his one-man show running through February at the Bleeker Street Theater. Campbell chronicles his journey to Judaism, the  show’s heartfelt narrative hinging on an anecdote about the three circumcisions he underwent for each successive Jewish conversion. Precisely how Campbell went from Catholic schoolboy to strung-out addict to Orthodox Jew – all in one lifetime – is detailed in an hour-and-a-half long show that illuminates Campbell’s insights and perpetual questioning. Make no mistake, Circumcise Me doesn’t rely on shtick about what happens when a scalpel meets a grown man’s penis (three times). Nor is it merely about Judaism. It is a tale of transformation and one man’s discovery of what everyone longs to find: a sense of belonging.

Campbell is a gifted storyteller whose entire show is a meditation on a very Jewish question: why? He relies on stock Jewish humor throughout the show (there’s even a glossary of Yiddish and Hebrew words in the program), but his message buoys above overplayed shtick. With sarcasm and hyperbole, he succeeds in highlighting the sometimes ludicrous nature of Jewish conversion. Before his last conversion to Orthodoxy, if he wanted the food he cooked in his own kitchen to be kosher, he was told he either had to cook with his Orthodox raised roommate (who didn’t keep kosher), make one ingredient meals (he goes on a long diatribe about a broccoli-only Shabbat dinner), or become an Orthodox Jew.

Campbell’s dedication to and love for Judaism is undeniable, and his sincerity  makes him utterly appealing onstage.  When I spoke with him after the show, I shared the story my own bizarre conversion experience.  My father was Jewish, my mother is not;  I was raised by my father in a Jewish home with his Jewish girlfriend, but technically, my sister and I were not Jews. Although Judaism was the only religion I had ever known, I was informed shortly before my Bat Mitzvah that I would have to convert.  I couldn’t convert to what I already was, I reasoned. Yet because Judaism is passed down matrilineally, anyone born to a Jewish mother is automatically a Jew, therefore, I was not. My conversion with my sister was nothing more than a dip in the ‘holy’ waters of Lake Michigan and a blessing.  Still, I resented having to go through what I considered a parochial ritual, and felt insulted that my connection to Judaism was determined not by my actions and beliefs, but factors beyond my control.

Naturally, I was impressed by Campbell’s total willingness to relinquish his old way of life for the sake of personal growth. It is one thing to go through the motions, but another entirely to transform the essence of one’s life. Religious poseurs give a bad name to dramatic spiritual change,  yet those who masquerade in their own lives feel even emptier after superficial spiritual dabbling. Campbell’s internalization of Judaism and his earnest quest for spiritual connection sets him apart. He lives in Israel along with his wife and their twins; he has been tested and had friends perish in suicide bombing attacks and remained devout. In his words, he is a ‘total’ man, a man who is whole.

One of the show’s most poignant moments comes at the very end. when Campbell explains his reasoning behind adopting the name Israel. The word literally means, ‘He who wrestles with God.’   Like any good comedian, Campbell never lets us forget that he is a man who knows what it is to feel misunderstood and pained. Perhaps Campbell’s identification with Judaism is not jut about ritual and community, but his unrelenting search for answers that age-old question. Why?