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#jewish neil
veryintricaterituals · 7 months
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Something about Good Omens from a Jewish perspective, something about Crowley, about questions, something about how we are not in heaven, about how we get to decide the rules here on Earth, something about discussion, about wrestling with G-d, and something about how G-d is outnumbered and doesn't get a say, something about how "heaven" and "hell" don't really matter, about trying to make things better from the context of our lives, something about leaving the world a better place than you found it, something about drinking and enjoying life right here and now, something about "they tried to kill us and failed, let's eat".
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tsyvia48 · 6 months
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Author & Mensch: Reflections on the impact of @neil-gaiman on my life, in essay and doodle
As a woman of a certain age, I am a well-practiced overthinker. Nerd, geek, know-it-all, intellectual, the names have been biting or praise depending on who wielded them. They’re all true, and I embrace them. 
In the early days of adulthood, when I was a wee 20-something overthinking nerd, geek, know-it-all, intellectual (20+ years ago), I became deeply interested in image and text and text-as-image. While friends were watching and arguing over Survivor, I was obsessing over Peter Greenaway’s The Pillowbook and Prospero's Books and Neil Gaiman’s Sandman. (To this day my copies of the Sandman graphic novels and the English translation of The Pillowbook of Sei Shonagon are proudly displayed on the good bookshelves—you know, the ones I want people to peruse.)
Sandman isn't merely good storytelling and good art, it teases at some of the fundamental questions to which my religion-major heart was consistently and reliably drawn. It modeled a way of rendering the questions—and suggested answers—I would never have imagined on my own.
In those days, I created an artist's book: an altered gift edition of Hamlet. I explored Ophelia’s femininity and the inevitability of her break with her mental health, caught as she is between Hamlet and her father. I imagined her story if she’d had true agency. I investigated the way art (fan art?!) had shaped my understanding of the play and my relationship to it. I layered in my story—my resonance and dissonance with hers—and my art, along with images of famous and not-so-famous paintings of Ophelia. I proudly named Greenaway and Gaiman as influences. 
I imagined myself an artist. And, truthfully, I suppose I was one. 
I read Good Omens back then, too, delighting over the religious tropes and subversions, the humor, and the fundamental faith in humanity that shone through. 
In the two decades since then, below the din of “responsible” choices (that have mostly moved me away from imagining myself an artist) there has been a melody quietly bringing me comfort, shifting my perspective, and reminding me who I want to be. When I stop to listen for and name the music, I realize much of it generates from Neil Gaiman. 
The Graveyard Book gave me comfort and hope as a new parent. 
Ocean at the End of the Lane reminded me of the layers and the depths⏤the archetypes and metaphors⏤present in everything around me, if I am willing to seek them.
Neil’s anecdote about meeting Neil Armstrong has been a talisman against imposter syndrome. Or, more precisely, it has been a permission slip for forgiving myself when the imposter syndrome inevitably surfaces.
The episode of Dr Who he wrote (“the Doctor’s Wife”) changed the way I understand the entire Dr Who experience before and since. 
Lucifer (tv), which his work inspired, gave me joy, comfort and distraction through a tough time in my life. 
When, a few years ago, I realized he is Jewish, I had that swelling of pride and resonance that I always get when someone I admire shares that identity with me.
And now there’s the Good Omens tv series. It has opened something in me I didn’t realize was closed. Crowley and Aziraphale are helping me better understand myself, and love, and gender, and storytelling, and, believe it or not, Torah. I am writing again for the first time in ages. I'm drawing more often and with more joy than I’ve known maybe since childhood.
I’ve been getting back into my gratidoodle practice, drawing and writing what I’m grateful for. And when I decided to add Neil Gaiman’s face and some words about my appreciation for his work to my sketchbook, I realized he’s brought me full circle.
Text and image and text-as-image + Neil Gaiman + story is an old constellation for me. And once again, I find my thoughts dancing, shifting, blossoming to the quiet melody of (one of?) the greatest storyteller(s) of this generation. 
And now that I am actively engaging with other Gaiman fans, I see how responsive and kind and encouraging he is to those of us who love his work, and his name is permanently etched on my heart: a benefactor, a teacher, a role model.
How satisfying and fitting that such a powerful and resonant voice, miraculously, thankfully, beautifully, also seems to be a genuine mensch. 
B”H (thanks to God) that I am alive at the same time as such a one.
#I didn't realize I was going to write AND draw when I started this #but I felt I needed both #I wish I had a flatbed scanner #this photo doesn't do it justice #there's greater nuance in the color in person #Stories matter #Art matters #like, really matters #Neil Gaiman is a gift to this world #Good Omens #Crowley and Aziraphale #Ocean at the End of the Lane #The Graveyard Book #Neil Armstrong and imposter syndrome #The Doctor's Wife #So grateful for tumblr
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slyandthefamilybook · 2 months
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bad post, worse notes
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stick-ball · 5 months
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Neil cussing out people in polish is canon thank you goodnight. Ja pierdole kurwa tak. Hissing cat neil confirmed.
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palmettoshitposts · 1 year
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also hc that neil just fucking. makes up jewish holidays to get out of doing shit and it works for months because the foxes are trying to be respectful, after it took neil so long to just say out loud that he's jewish
neil: um sorry i can't come to the party :/ it's chag sameach that day :/ it's a jewish festival
nicky: oh of course! no worries at all! shalom!
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Steve had heard a lot about Billy before he ever met him.
The Hargrove’s had arrived during Shabbat so Steve was busy trying to wrangle his dyslexia into actually reading Hebrew for once while Hargrove was making his unforgettable impression on everyone. Still, Jonathan Byers and Dustin Henderson went to his Shul so Steve felt like he already knew the guy by the time Monday came knocking.
The way Henderson described him was like a cartoon monster, probably because he’d already developed a crush on his kid sister. The way Byers described him was almost with a quiet admiration. A guy flagging in small town Indiana had a lot of balls.
Hargrove was hot. Naturally. Almost scarily blonde, kind of like Jason Carver. Definitely Catholic. Could definitely ruin Steve’s life if he put his mind to it.
They didn’t officially talk until Halloween. Steve wasn’t drunk but he was one of the few. Tommy had been trying to get him to eat pork for a solid hour. Because it was so funny that Steve had religious dietary restrictions when they were all hammered.
Hargrove rolled his eyes and told Tommy to knock him off. He was about three inches shorter than Steve but he felt taller. Judging by the tightness of his leather pants, he’d been blessed by God in more than just his angelic good looks. That is, if the Christian God made angels who swayed slightly on their feet and were at the point of the night where everything smelled kind of old boots.
They ended up just talking. Nancy had gone god knows where after dumping his ass for Byers, Steve was pretty bummed after the sudden collapse of a year long relationship, even if he was slowly realising that he was gay, and Hargrove was happy to just have a chat. They debated the merits of Indiana Jones vs James Bond, then Steve drove him home.
The Hargrove house was absolutely fucking terrifying. Externally, it was just a fairly average place for a working class family of four but the confederate flag on Neil Hargrove’s pickup truck gave Steve pause. As did the old belt hanging out the back. Spikes attached.
Billy crashed at Steve’s instead. He said several lewd things about a mixture of girls and boys from Hawkins High, attempted to write a poem about Steve’s ass then promptly passed out and started snoring.
So. Billy Hargrove liked guys. Steve also liked guys. It wasn’t weird. Not unless Steve made it as such. They’d be fine.
It was not fine.
Billy had vanished by the time Steve woke up the following morning. He’d penned a short thank you note in very fancy handwriting, telling Steve that if anyone found out what had happened, he was dead. Eh. Steve had threatened worse.
He didn’t see Billy for about a week after that. Not until the blue Camaro parked outside the Byers. While there was a demodog just lying on the floor of the kitchen and Max was under Steve’s care.
Shit.
Steve sensed that flirting would not get him out of this one.
So he tried to act macho. Puffing out his chest. Peacocking just like Hargrove. Until Max’s ginger hair peeled out the window and he had to change tactics again.
Steve was not going to let his new crush get eaten by an alien. So he told him the truth.
Billy smoked five cigarettes right down to the filter while staring in horror at the creature on the kitchen floor. Ash got all over Joyce’s nice wooden floors. Nobody brought him up on it.
Then Billy’s face steeled and he fished a red bandana out of one of his pockets (Steve would pay attention to which side it had been on when he didn’t fear for his life) and grabbed his lighter.
“Let’s send these assholes to Hell.”
Steve couldn’t agree more.
Billy was not happy about having to sign a contract afterwards. Grumbling about how government was authoritarian bullshit. Still, he wrote his name with a flourish and asked to pull one of the scary government people to the side.
He did something unexpected when he finally emerged from the room afterwards. He kissed Steve. Apparently Steve hadn’t been making up a mutual crush in his head after all.
They had their first date a little before Christmas. Billy took him to Makeout Point. Fun was had. Then Billy drove Steve back to the Harringtons and made him watch Star Trek. Fucking nerd.
Six months went by and Steve never met Neil. He’d heard a lot about him, his opinion of African-Americans and Mexicans and Jews were dark and ugly and made Steve want to smash his teeth in. What cemented that opinion was that Billy was still coming to Steve’s with bruises patterning his torso, a split lip, broken toes.
It was the day when Neil had cracked Billy’s ribs that Steve decided to take matters into his own hands. Billy wasn’t well enough to come but Steve decided to have a little trip to the Hargrove’s, bat in hand. To have a talk.
Neil called Steve a kike and both of them faggots. There wasn’t a lot of talking after that.
Nobody knew quite where Neil had ran off to after that evening. Not even Steve. Not that he minded, as long as he stayed far away from Max and Billy.
He had Billy now, wearing his stupid leather pants as a joke, forcing him to watch more Star Trek. That was all that really mattered.
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Do you know this Jewish character?
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lgbtqreads · 1 year
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Happy Jewish American Heritage Month 2023!
Ring of Solomon by Aden Polydoros The little beachside town of San Pancras is not known for anything exciting, but when Zach Darlington buys a mysterious ring at the local flea market, his quiet little hometown is turned topsy-turvy by monsters straight from Jewish folklore and a nefarious secret society focused on upholding an apocalyptic prophecy. Zach discovers that the ring grants him strange…
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plumpliori · 4 months
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So in our family we have a (slightly annoying) tradition of "building a human Chanukkiya" for the eighth day of Hanukkah. Usually it will take an insisting uncle to actually make it happen (in here I imagine it would be Aziraphale!)
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lavfeyson · 9 months
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as much as i love everyone’s funny suggestions on who should play jesus in the hypothetical good omens s3, jesus should ideally be WEST ASIAN as that’s what he is and he was born in west asia. a white person playing jesus would just further contribute to his modern day whitewashing
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tsyvia48 · 7 months
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I am imagining Aziraphale and Crowley in Jerusalem in 70 CE. Aziraphale is aiding the Romans’ siege (because, God’s plan). It is Crowley’s suggestion to smuggle Yochanon Ben Zakkai out in a coffin (because, thwarting God’s plan. Also corpse uncleanness for a holy man). Crowley is with Yochanon’s disciples in the hills outside the city. They watch the Temple burn and they weep. Crowley weeps with them; they are losing their connection to God, as he did in the fall.
One of the assembled asks the rebbe how they will serve God now that they can no longer offer sacrifices. When the answer comes back “acts of loving-kindness will replace Temple sacrifice,” the demon rolls his eyes, and almost immediately sights the unlikely blonde head in the distance. The sun catches it and the halo is visible even to his snake eyes. “Acts of loving-kindness will be repair our severed connection to the One,” the rebbe says again.
There is a stillness as the rebbe’s words settle into the hearts and minds of the men (and one man-shaped being) around him. The demon stares at the halo bobbing around the edges of the mayhem far below, and for the first time in a long time, he feels something a little like hope.
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just-an-akward-fan · 7 months
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(Yom Kippur is a Jewish holiday in which god is judging everyone based on their actions the past year, and decide how they shall live for the next year. Very intense. It's common to ask for forgiveness from those you hurt before Yom Kippur)
Me on Yom Kippur: if I hurt you in any way, please know that I'm sorry.
Friend: I forgive you.
Me: noooooo!!!
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veryintricaterituals · 8 months
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Crowley is jewish, and he has deep soul wrenching jewish trauma but I'm not going to go into it because if I stopped and tried to analyze it as a jewish agnostic lesbian who lives in VERY Catholic country, in a city with almost no jews, I'd go into the existential crisis I've been avoiding for years and I just don't have time to deal with that at this moment. But what you need to know is that I firmly believe Crowley was at the trial Jews gave to G-d during the Holocaust and he smiled when we found Him guilty.
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palmettoshitposts · 1 year
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every time matt says "neil, my brother in christ", neil goes "antisemitism?🤨" and matt tries not to swing for him because they're in public and now people are giving him dirty looks
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starryeyedgazer · 11 months
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Is now a good time to bring back the theory that Crowley is the angel Raphael
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lovefromremus · 1 year
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oh btw neil's jewish
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