Seeing Tina Fey in a spoof of “Girls” on the season premiere of Saturday Night Live wasn’t just exhilarating because Our Lady of Feminist Comedy (pardon the Catholic reference) had returned, but because it also reinforced a world-order in which age and experience yields wisdom, both in humor and in life.
In the skit, Fey plays Hannah’s new roommate, Blerta, an Albanian widow whose past-life of war and poverty makes her a perfect foil for the solipsistic millennial dramas that fuel the show.
Some bon mots from Blerta:
When asked whether Hannah’s aloof ex, Adam, is good enough for her: “You will never do better than this man. He is strong like ox. You are weak and strong and dress like baby.”
After finding out that Jessa had sex with a cab driver without getting paid: “You are unpaid prostitute. You are lower than dog.”
And to the show’s resident JAP and logorrhoea sufferer Shoshana: “Don’t speak. If you speak, they will know you are simple, and if they know you are simple they will drown you in river.”
After seven seasons, “30 Rock” ends tonight on NBC. During its tenure, the show dropped Jewish references like mad, ranging from a crack about Monica Lewinsky joining JDate to contract negotiations that include “a 15% raise, a two-pic guarantee from Universal and time off for every Jewish holiday, no matter how ridiculous.” And of course, a Werewolf Bar Mitzvah.
But as a woman of a certain age, I always found myself drawn to the thoroughly modern and heroic character of Liz Lemon — and, because I have what some might consider entirely too much Jewish education, when I look at Liz, I can’t help but think of the concept of an “Eshet Chayil” or woman of valor, as described in the Hebrew poem of the same name.
I have always felt challenged by the “Eshet Chayil” poem, which was originally penned by King Solomon and which continues to be read in traditional homes by husbands to their wives before Shabbat dinner in praise for their good works. As a single woman, the references to a husband (“Her husband is known at the gates, when he sits among the elders of the land”) don’t define me. I don’t have children (“her children rise and praise her”), and I’ve never crafted and sold my own clothing (“she makes a cloak and sells it, and she delivers aprons to the merchant”). The tropes of what makes a valorous woman in Solomonic times, do not resonate with me today. I faced two obvious choices — abandon the poem, or reinterpret three non-consecutive quotes through a more contemporary, Liz Lemon lens. And so without further ado…