An Animated God

South Park kicked off its current (18th) season by satirizing the Washington Redskins Professional Football Team name controversy, and Family Guy began its 13th season with the timeless topic of—The Simpsons. And what about The Simpsons itself? True to its core spirit of focusing on eternal issues such as family and morality, the greatest animated sitcom of all time chose to focus on another topic that has stood the test of time, a subject that happens to be one of the few societal institutions that has actually lasted longer than the show: religion.

In the premiere episode, Krusty the Clown’s father dies. Krusty’s father is a rabbi, and not just any rabbi: He is a parody of an old-fashioned Lower-East-Side shtetl rabbi, and he is voiced by a venerable sage of Jewish comedy, Jackie Mason. The death of Krusty’s father is doubly traumatic for poor Krusty: It occurs after yet another nadir in Krusty’s career, an unforgiving cable television roast featuring, among other guest stars, another fellow comedian and member of the tribe (Sarah Silverman). After the roast causes him to reflect on his life and career, Krusty seeks the sage advice of his father, Rabbi Hyman Krustofski. As they meet in the rabbi’s book-lined office, Krusty asks his father what he really thinks about his comedic career. Rabbi Krustofski leans back in his chair, begins to say something that sounds like “Eh,” and dies.

Krusty is crestfallen, not only because his father has died, but because he cannot figure out what exactly his father was trying to say on his “deathbed”—shades of Nathan Zuckerman thinking that his dying father insulted him on his deathbed in Philip Roth’s Zuckerman Unbound. Which can only lead one to wonder: What is it with Jews and their fathers and deathbeds? Did Sigmund Freud’s father say something ambiguously insulting to him on his deathbed? Is this why Freud believed that Judaism, like all religions, started because of the guilt that sons felt over some primordial father-eating event? Because Freud, himself, wanted to destroy and consume his father? 

As the episode proceeds, Krusty experiences yet another existential crisis, culminating in an apparent religious reawakening: He starts going to temple, performs good deeds, and has a vision of Jewish heaven. 

The Simpsons and religion have been married for almost as long as Marge and Homer, so it may not be surprising that the show returned to the airwaves this season by returning to religion. The heart of The Simpsons is the family, and the heart of the family is often religion—especially in a country as religious as the United States. Religion has always been a major theme in The Simpsons: The family goes to church together (can you name one other sitcom whose main cast of characters regularly attends religious services?); they (occasionally) say bedtime prayers; and they boast an evangelical Christian as a neighbor (Ned Flanders). And Homer, in addition to his perilous stints as astronaut, boxer, plow-truck driver, and Denver Broncos owner, can lay claim to having been a radical free-thinking theologian. 

One Sunday morning, Marge tries to wake up her sleeping husband, imploring him to get ready for church. “Homer!” she yells. “The Lord only asks for one hour a week!” Homer, rolling over in bed and still half asleep, musters a retort that is theologically courageous and talmudically logical: “Lousy God,” he quips. “In that case, he should’ve made the week an hour longer.” And with that, a victorious Homer Spinoza Simpson rolls back over in bed for some sweet, well-deserved slumber. In that episode, however, he does eventually make it to church; like most avant-garde theologians, he is more radical in theory than in action.

Some of the greatest Simpsons episodes revolve around religion. “Hurricane Neddy” is a modern retelling of the Job story: A hurricane hits Springfield but the only house that is destroyed is the home of the most righteous resident in town, Ned Flanders. In “Homer the Heretic,” Homer plays hooky from church one Sunday. He calls it “the best day of my life,” invents his own religion, and confronts God. Yet even though Homer meets God, he doesn’t manage to discover the meaning of life. He does discover something almost as interesting, though: Unlike the famously four-fingered Simpsons, God’s hand has five fingers. The Simpsons writers’ conception of God is definitely neither matriarchal nor Maimonidean. 

In “The Father, the Son, and the Holy Guest Star,” the narcissism-of-small-differences phenomenon is dramatized when Bart’s attraction to a charismatic Roman Catholic cleric (Liam Neeson) concerns his Protestant parents. Denominational differences are rarely touched on in The Simpsons, and this episode is a notable exception. In other Simpsons-and-religion episodes, Krusty rediscovers his Jewish heritage (“Like Father, Like Clown”), Krusty gets bar mitzvah’d (“Today I Am a Clown”), and Lisa converts to Buddhism (“She of Little Faith”). 

In an episode that should be required viewing for all seminary and divinity students for its pointed warning about the perils that await naïve, idealistic clergy out there in the real world (“In Marge We Trust”), we learn that the Reverend Lovejoy was once a passionate young pastor but has since become a disillusioned middle-aged clergyman whose ardor was defused by the doldrums of ministering to a difficult congregation in Springfield. (Marge fills in for the dispirited Lovejoy as Springfield’s go-to religious counselor until the reverend rediscovers the religious spark that inspired him to become a clergyman in the first place.) 

By continually casting a comedic light on matters of faith and the family, The Simpsons remains as relevant as religion itself. And by staying close to the timeless matters of the heart and soul in such a heartfelt yet humorous manner, The Simpsons also demonstrates that it has earned its berth in TV heaven. 

If Bart can teach Jews like Krusty a thing or two about humor, maybe Krusty and other religionists will one day convince Bart that religion is (occasionally) not boring. But I doubt it. The Simpsons will be off the air before Bart believes that religion is not boring—in other words, never. And thank God for that. 

Daniel Ross Goodman, a writer and rabbinical student in New York, is editor of Milin Havivin, Yeshivat Chovevei Torah Rabbinical School’s journal of Jewish studies.