At a rehearsal about 20 years ago, Seth Rozin – director, playwright, artistic director of Philadelphia’s InterAct Theatre – was approached by one of the actors, a New York Times in his hand. “Look at this,” the actor said.
He pointed to a story about two men in Kabul, said to be the last Jews in Afghanistan. They’d known one another forever. At some point, each of them had moved into the dilapidated old synagogue, a remnant of better times for both the country and its Jewish community.
They loathed each other.
“Right away,” Rozin said, “I knew this was a play.”
His spark of instinct burst into “Two Jews Walk into a War . . .,” the comedy – yes, a comedy – opening July 24 at the New Jewish Theatre under the direction of Aaron Sparks. Two accomplished veterans of St. Louis stages, Gary Glasgow and Chuck Winning, star as the feuding frenemies who share a mutual contempt – and a mutual sense of responsibility to their ancient, but barely extant, community.
The men, Ishaq and Zeblyan, at least agree that it is up to them to restore the synagogue and give it a new Torah. The Taliban destroyed the last one that the Jews of Kabul had managed to keep. Ishaq knows the Torah by heart and believes he could dictate it; Zeblyan could be the scribe. And anyway, they have no one else to turn to.
Once, their choices would have been plentiful. The Jewish presence in Afghanistan is thought to date back some 2500 years, to the collapse of the Kingdom of Judah and subsequent migration. And for a long time, it was a place where Jews could make a living.
The Silk Road – an elaborate system of land and water routes that traders employed to bring western markets such Asian treasures as tea, spices, jade and, of course, silk fabric — included an important stop in Herat, an Afghan oasis city. Like Kabul, it once had a Jewish quarter.
Many credit the Jewish merchants traveling the route with inventing the check, a piece of paper that was “as good as gold” – and much safer to carry over remote roads plagued by bandits. These men trusted each other because both bearer and signer of the note respected each other as fellow Jews. Often enough, they also were relatives.
Regardless of which of its many conquerors was in charge, Afghan’s Jews were generally “a tolerated minority – second-class citizens, but mostly left alone,” said Rozin, 61. Author of about 15 plays that have been presented around the United States and abroad, he said that this one involved quite a bit of research.
But after it debuted in 2009 at Florida Stage, he was astonished to read a review that called it “‘a love letter to my faith!’ My faith?
“I have always been proud of being a cultural Jew. But I didn’t go to Hebrew school. I wasn’t a bar mitzvah. And neither was my father.”
In fact, Rozin grew up in a distinctive corner of Jewish America, academia. His father, the distinguished University of Pennsylvania psychologist Paul Rozin, is, according to his son, “the king of disgust” – perhaps more properly termed the world’s leading expert on disgust, most particularly in regard to food.
The playwright’s late mother, culinary historian Elisabeth Rozin, took an entirely different approach to that subject. She studied food in terms of culture and wrote a number of non-academic cookbooks celebrating ethnic cuisines.
Growing up in suburban Philadelphia, Rozin discovered his love of theater in high school and continued to pursue it as a student at Penn. Soon after he graduated, he and three friends formed InterAct – a theater dedicated to the production of new plays and plays with social or political significance.
Unlike countless troupes with similar origin stories, InterAct has thrived. He thinks he knows why. “We all start with something very specific (that we want to do),” said the writer, who is also a cofounder of Philadelphia Scenic Works, the only nonprofit scene shop in the country. He’s also served as president of the National New Play Network and the Theatre Alliance of Greater Philadelphia. “But then they go for a larger audience. And in five years, they’re just like everybody else.
“Or maybe I just don’t have the gene for fame and fortune?” he continued, teasing himself. “I suppose I could enjoy that.
“But what would I do? Plays I don’t think are important? Plays I’m not interested in?
“So, I make less money. But the rewards are great.”
Prior to “Two Jews,” Rozin wrote only one play with explicitly Jewish content. But now he suspects that may change. “The way the world has gone – the theater world especially – it is considered less appropriate nowadays for playwrights to write about people they don’t identify with. I wouldn’t write that [earlier] play today, and if I did, nobody would produce it.
“So what should we all do? Write one-man [or one-woman] plays about ourselves?” Over the phone, Rozin seems to shake his head, then brightens. “No.
“But if I write more plays with Jewish themes, express myself through Jewish characters, maybe I can resolve the conflict. I believe in the creative imagination.”
