Let's write about speaking with Englishisms

"Two Languages Walk Into a Bar", an echo essay by John McWhorter published in The New York Times: 

I have been asked often these days about a recent study on a form of Spanish-influenced English that has emerged in Miami. 

Phillip Carter, a linguist at Florida International University, assisted by Kristen D’Alessandro Merii in the study.

Miami is highly bilingual; in some neighborhoods, 90 percent of households use Spanish daily. 

But, more interesting, perhaps, are the ways in which many Spanish-English bilinguals use expressions in English that are modeled on Spanish. Like, they are sometimes seem to be speaking English “in Spanish.” This is true not only of those whose first language was Spanish, but of second- and third-generation bilinguals, too.

In this Miami English, for instance, you say “get down from the car” rather than “get out of it,” because this is how you would put it in Spanish: bajarse del carro. You “make” a party instead of “throwing” it for the same reason. (In Spanish, it’s hacer una fiesta.) And you get married “with” instead of “to” someone because in Spanish one says “casarse con” rather than “casarse a.”

But Carter’s study is also a useful demonstration of the typical although perhaps counterintuitive way in which languages gently alter one another. Our usual sense of a language is of something “pure” and unadulterated. When other languages stage incursions into one we know, we often process them along a continuum from amusement (Louisiana’s mock-French “Laissez les bons temps rouler!” for “Let the good times roll”) through perplexity (“Why are there so many French words in English?”) to even contempt. I once knew a Romanian who found something unseemly and even louche in the fact that his language — a Romance one related to Italian — had taken in so many Slavic words.

But, just as human beings might think it’s strange that animals walk on four legs when in fact it is bipedalism that is unusual, languages mixing together is the default, not a special case. Where lots of people are bilingual — such as in Miami — languages will almost always exchange words. And more than that, they will often also start to put words together in similar ways.

For example, one thing an English speaker typically has to unlearn when mastering a foreign language is the way we strand prepositions at the ends of sentences: “This is the house we went to.” Calls to avoid this practice — who among us did not learn in school to “never end a sentence with a preposition”? — have been silly and useless. (Cue here the possibly apocryphal anecdote about Winston Churchill’s verdict on the rule: “This is the type of errant pedantry up with which I shall not put!”) However, in other languages the rule is a real one. To make the similarly structured statement in Spanish, “Esta es la casa que yo fui a,” could practically get you fined. No pedant (i.e., a person who is obsessed with minor details) needs to warn people against it, as no native speaker would ever be inclined to say it. It simply isn’t Spanish on any level.

I encountered another variation on this theme during my annual stay at a Jewish summer bungalow colony. Why me? Long story, but it started during the pandemic and became a habit, and I am one of many non-Jews there. It’s called Rosmarins Cottages, and it is one of the last Reform Jewish colonies of a kind of which there were once dozens in the Catskills — immortalized in the film “Dirty Dancing” and, more recently, on the wondrous television series “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.”

At Rosmarins, I get an earful of what happens to English when it is spoken alongside yet another language, Yiddish. Of course, most people don’t walk around the place thinking of themselves as speaking Yiddishisms. 

But,if you listen to them closely, you can hear how Yiddish infiltrated the English of earlier American Jews, such that it now seasons the speech of people a generation or more removed from actually speaking Yiddish.

For example, at Rosmarins, one says that one will be eating “by” someone’s bungalow later, not “at” it, e.g., “We’re going to be by Lenore’s. Are you coming?” This “by” is taken from the way Yiddish uses its word “bey”: “I am at grandpa and grandma’s house” is “Ikh bin bey zeyde aun bobe’s hoyz.” 

Just as Miami English is used by people who mostly speak English, at Rosmarins all but a sliver of the people using “by” this way do not speak Yiddish. Even the non-Jewish bungaleers (yes, that’s the term) come to use it. I and another gentile resident were using it just the other day, without a second thought.

A while ago, another resident and I were trying to find the light switch when leaving a big barn of a building. The resident, a lifelong English speaker who does not speak Yiddish, but had relatives who did, found the switch and said, “Oh, I found where to close that light.” That was modeled on Yiddish, in which one could put it the same way and say, “makh tsi de likht.”

Or, to go back in time a little, there was — of course — a 1950s Broadway musical about a Jewish bungalow colony. It was called “Wish You Were Here” and was a minor hit. The colony’s social director introduced himself with a song, set to a klezmer-like tune, in one stanza of which he sang about how his parents and older relatives hated that he had decided to become a social director. He imitates them:

Oh, woe, woe, woe!

A social director! A social director!

Don’t tell us our boy is a social director!

Let him be a loafer, let him be a bum.

Anything is better than our boy he should become

A social director!!!

I have always liked the line “Anything is better than our boy he should become,” because this is how the sentence would be put in Yiddish as well, and the parents of this Jewish man of 1952 would most likely have been Yiddish speakers. One often reads and hears similar phrasing in literary and dramatic depictions of Jewish people of that era.

However, things are different in, say, Copenhagen. Danish, and its sister languages Swedish and Norwegian, that happily strand prepositions in the same way English does. For “This is the house we went to,” the Dane says, “Dette er huset vi gik til.” All you have to know is that “til” means “to.”

The reason that preposition stranding is happening in London, Copenhagen, Oslo and Stockholm but not in Paris, Madrid or Moscow is that Scandinavian Vikings invaded Britain starting in the eighth century C.E. It is commonly noted that they left behind hundreds of words in the language, such as “skirt,” “ill,” “egg” and “happy.” But they also left ways of putting things, such as stranded prepositions. Before the Vikings came, no Old English speaker would have been caught dead stranding prepositions. But after the Vikings, in many ways English was spoken “in Viking.”

The Miami story, then, is a modern version of what happened to English in the Middle Ages, except this time the language is Spanish rather than Danish or Norwegian.

I have always liked the line “Anything is better than our boy he should become,” because this is how the sentence would be put in Yiddish as well, and the parents of this Jewish man of 1952 would most likely have been Yiddish speakers. One often reads and hears similar phrasing in literary and dramatic depictions of Jewish people of that era.

As Carter put it in an interview, “When you have two languages spoken by most of the population, you’re going to have a lot of interesting language contact happening.” In other words, the new Miami English is a cool example of an utterly ordinary phenomenon.

John McWhorter (@JohnHMcWhorter) is an associate professor of linguistics at Columbia University.

Let's write about Maine's Katahdin Woods Monument

Katahdin Woods and Waters National Monument is a U.S. national monument spanning 87,563 acres (137 sq mi) of mountains and forestland in northern Penobscot County, Maine, including a section of the East Branch Penobscot River. The monument is located on the eastern border of Maine's Baxter State Park. Native animals include moose, bobcats, bald eagles, salmon, and Canada lynx.

Pond Pitch along the East Branch of the Penobscot River

Seven years ago - in 2023, we celebrate the 7th year since the designation by President Obama of Katahdin Woods and Waters National Monument. 

Don Hudson (wdonhudson) wrote this tribute to the monument on his Instagram page:  "I got to catch up on the progress of Tekαkαpimək—“as far as one can see” (Wabanaki), which is nestled into the ridge to the east of the East Branch of the Penobscot River. 

Tekαkαpimək is a variable measure of distance that anyone who has paddled on a river will understand. You look up river, paddle to that point, and look again. If you’ve been told to go 6 Tekαkαpimək to find your destination, you simply repeat that process 5 more times. One ‘look’ could be a mile or 100 yards! 

I came away from visiting the building site with a profound feeling of thanks and appreciation. 

North Central Maine, United States Nearest city Bangor

North Central Maine, United States Nearest city Bangor

There is nothing in the National Park Service like this visitor contact station will be when it is completed. The stories of the Wabanaki will be told by them in the space that they created. We got a glimpse today, and it will not disappoint.

Later in the afternoon, a few of us paddled upstream on the East Branch from Lunksoos Camps, and I got to see the International Appalachian Trail from a different perspective—running across the ridge of Deasey Mountain. Thanks to Roxanne Quimby for allowing us 20 years ago to build the trail on lands that would later be designated a national treasure. A full day!"

 #penobscotland #wabanakiland #maineiat #friendsofkatahdinwoodsandwaters #Tekαkαpimək

Let's write about teaching the Holocaust history in America

The word antisemitism means prejudice against or hatred of Jews. The Holocaust is history’s most extreme example of antisemitism.

AUGUSTA, Maine- This echo essay was written by Erica Nadelhaft the Executive Director of the Holocaust and Human Rights Center located on the University of Maine Augusta's campus and published in the organization's blog titled "And We Will Hope to Make a Difference":

In May, 2023, The Atlantic published an article by Dara Horn titled “Is Holocaust Education Making Anti-Semitism Worse?” 

Reading the article led to much thought and many conversations both within and outside of the Holocaust and Human Rights Center of Maine community. I found myself going back to it numerous times. It is distressing, honest, and, I think, spot on in many places. I have been thinking about it both in relation to my life as a Jewish woman in America and also in relation to my role as the Education Coordinator at the HHRC (although it is not always easy to separate those pieces of myself).

The article opens by talking about the vague sense of dread that exists in many American Jewish communities. Antisemitism is widespread and, if not increasing, certainly becoming more overt and violent over time. Just a few days ago, the FBI arrested a man in Michigan for stockpiling weapons and identifying a date and a synagogue in East Lansing. Big news items like this tend to get media time. But the regular and fairly constant level of antisemitic slurs, harassment, and other indignities suffered by American Jews on an almost daily basis don’t. Horn notes that American Jews seem to feel that they have no right to complain about them. “After all,” she writes, they aren’t “the Holocaust.”

"Juif" is French for "Jew". The English term "Jew" originates in the Biblical Hebrew word Yehudi, meaning "from the Kingdom of Judah" (Wikipedia)

Horn questions how best to respond to contemporary antisemitism and writes that, “The bedrock assumption that has endured for nearly half a century is that learning about the Holocaust inoculates people against antisemitism. But it doesn’t.” Is teaching the Holocaust the best response to antisemitism? I agree with Dara Horn. Teaching about the Holocaust is not the best or the only way to respond to antisemitism. That is not to say that Holocaust education is not critical. It is, for many reasons. You cannot address antisemitism without teaching about the Holocaust, but that on its own is not enough.

At the HHRC, Holocaust education is at the core of much of what we do. We offer six different programs on various aspects of the Holocaust as well as sponsoring exhibits, guest lectures, workshops and teacher training seminars. The Holocaust infuses our building, our work, and our consciousness. It is part of who we are. We believe that the Holocaust should, indeed, must be studied for a number of reasons. First and foremost, simply for its own sake: to acknowledge the event, the victims, the survivors, the trauma and the history. Those who experienced the Holocaust deserve to have their story told. They existed and they were slaughtered and tortured because they were Jews and that is reason enough to learn.

There are also lessons we can learn when we study the Holocaust—in particular what it means to make ethical and moral decisions that carry immense risk; what it means to speak up against hate; and what it means when we choose not. We walk a fine line here, because studying the Holocaust is not a means to an end—the Holocaust did not happen so that we could use it to learn general lessons about humanity and what human beings are capable of. It’s not simply a teaching tool to help us learn about ourselves. It is a singular event that happened to a specific group of people, the Jews, for very specific reasons. We need to acknowledge both the universality of some of the lessons while focusing on the uniqueness of the event.

But why is teaching about the Holocaust not the answer to the increasingly overt, socially acceptable, and violent antisemitism in this country? Because, after all, the Holocaust could not have happened without the two thousand years of antisemitism that led, perhaps inexorably, to it. If the Holocaust is the ultimate expression of antisemitism, why is knowing about it not enough?

As Dara Horn notes in the article, the Holocaust is too often taught in a vacuum. When it is taught without the context of that two thousand year history of antisemitism; when it is taught without the context of thousands of years of vibrant and rich Jewish history; when it is taught without an anchor in history, it is difficult if not impossible for people to connect it with the antisemitism that exists in the world today.

Horn writes of an experience she had at the Illinois Holocaust Museum & Education Center and hearing the docent talk about how prior to the Holocaust life for Jews in Europe was normal and how “all of a sudden, things changed.” The Jews were living happy, normal, and ordinary lives and suddenly: “things changed.” The problem is that things didn’t just suddenly change. The Holocaust drew upon a two thousand year history of antisemitism. To say otherwise ignores reality and suggests that the Holocaust was an aberration that came out of nowhere.

And was Jewish life normal in the sense that it reflected the norms of non-Jewish European society? (Maine Writer comment- Anti-Semitism was not invented by the Nazis. Life for Jews includes a history of pogroms- displacements and being victimized by violent riots.)

While in a number of European countries Jews were increasingly assimilated, or at least acculturated to the majority society, they often retained differences—in language, dress, religious observance and culture. And the article argues that “teaching children that one shouldn’t hate Jews because Jews are ‘normal,’ only underlines the problem: If someone doesn’t meet your version of ‘normal,’ then it’s fine to hate them.” Rather than teach that Jews are “normal,” we need to teach that Jews are human - and that humans have differences—and that these differences are part of what makes us human.

If we are going to do that, we have to teach about both the unique and the universal in Jewish history and experience. And this is what we are doing, and have been doing for a number of years, at the HHRC. We teach about long, vibrant, and rich Jewish history and what life was like for Jews in Europe and elsewhere before the Holocaust. Six million dead is just a number if one has no understanding of what and who was lost. How do children, and adults, appreciate the significance of the loss if they don’t know who the Jews are? It’s not enough to simply teach how the Jews died. We have to teach how they lived.

Teaching about Jews’ humanity is important, but it is still not enough to combat today’s antisemitism. We also need to take a deep and honest look at the history of antisemitism—where and why it began, how it spread, and how it led almost inevitably to the Holocaust. Then, perhaps most importantly in the fight against antisemitism, we have to teach how antisemitism did not disappear after the Holocaust. One would like to think that it would. But it didn’t. And if the Holocaust was not enough to end antisemitism, teaching solely about the Holocaust won’t end it either. At the HHRC we teach not only about the history of antisemitism, but how antisemitism has continued in both old and new guises into the present day. And that includes tackling uncomfortable and frightening issues—including anti-Zionism and the demonization of Israel.

When we reduce Jewish history to the Holocaust, we minimize Jewish history. And when we reduce our discussion of antisemitism to the Holocaust, we minimize both the antisemitism of the past as well as the antisemitism of the present. And this allows antisemitism to continue to grow and flourish - in our schools, our communities, our political institutions, the media, and many other places.

And so at the HHRC we will continue to confront antisemitism and to teach the Holocaust. We will teach the individual and the communal, the unique and the universal. Our team will continue to do the work with honesty and courage, sadness and joy. 

And we will hope to make a difference.

Let's write about crispy thin crust pizza!

Practically everybody loves to eat pizza and many cuisine connoisseurs prefer theirs with a crispy thin crust. This essay describes how pizza is an international wonder food within diverse cultures where flour is creatively used!  

Thin crust pizza dough

This article by John Gutekanst, was published in the Pizza Today magazine. HELLO? So, apparently Pizza is popular enough to have its own magazine? Who knew?

❓

Thin Crust Pizza — The Crunchy History, Variations and Love

Crispy Business: Thin Crust Pizza

In the year 365 AD, the Gauls surrounded Rome in a brutal siege, but the inner citadel still held. 

Roman citizens and soldiers on the walls stared down at the Gauls waiting impatiently in the surrounding swamps but both groups were suffering greatly from famine and disease. On hearing that the Gauls were as hungry as his Roman citizenry, Roman General Manlius ordered that all the flour left in the storerooms be quickly mixed, rolled and baked into bread. This was then thrown out over the walls at the Gauls showing the enemy that the Romans could care less about food and were not starving. The Gauls soon lost all motivation in conquering Rome thinking it wasn’t worth their time waiting anymore. They left shortly after.

Whether this story is true or muddled by time, the probable bread that was thrown to the Gauls was Panis Strepticius, or “quick bread.” That was unleavened and baked quickly on hot stones and a pre-curser of modern thin-crust pizza. 

It also mirrors the trickery involved in turning our beloved airy pizzas into crackerlike crusts of today’s ultra-desirable thin pizzas.

Into Thin Air: Factors of Making a Thin Crust Pizza
There are several factors to making a thin crust, as well as numerous techniques to use in getting a thin, crunchy crust. Unlike a nice airy sourdough or puffy direct method dough, these thin crust methods are “all over the place” but many achieve the same goals — thin, crisp, crunchy and strong. Here are some factors in building your own thin crust program.

• Flour. Most thin-crust pizzas do not have to rely on gluten strength because elasticity is not needed to form a strong gluten net to hold carbon dioxide resulting in large alveoli. Even so, flour with moderate to high gluten strength at low hydration is needed if you plan on putting a lot of cheese and/or topping on the thin crust you are contemplating (but) baking a high gluten/high hydration crust may result in a gooey or moist interior resulting in a super thin crust that is quite leathery. Many thin crusts rely on corn meal to give the pizza that extra textural crunch, but too much of this could disrupt the gluten strands while stretching the dough.
• Hydration. More water equals more steam in the dough as it heats up, therefore the temperature of the oven is important. A thin crust relies upon dryness for a crunchy texture, and this can be achieved with lower hydration. But even with higher hydration, this can be done with traditional 00 Italian flour doughs at 60-percent hydration by using a lower temperature oven with a longer baking time. It may not have the appeal of a cracker-like, low moisture crust, but it will be thin and dry.
• Oil. I’ve found that this is an often-overlooked factor in designing a thin-crust pizza as this is all about stopping the hydration of the gluten net. The more water you introduce to the gluten scaffolding in the dough, the more moisture will saturate the interior of your pizza dough, causing steam. By adding oil to the dough, it will coat the gluten strands making them unable to be the hydration sponges as needed for puffy dough. This is best exemplified by the Focaccia di Recco description below which has no hydration and no leavening, only oil.
  

Full Metal Cracket: Types of Thin Crust Pizza

There are many different types of thin-crust pizzas. Here are just a few from all over the world some are wood fired on stone while others are baked in electric ovens.

Focaccia di Recco. Also called Focaccia col Formaggio, this copper pan baked thin crust made with two paper thin sheets of dough over and under 2-inch piles of a young Stracchino cheese like Crescenza or Prescinseua. The dough has no water and only olive oil at 12 to 13 percent which makes for a fatty, strudel-like dough. The dough is topped with more olive oil, and sometimes brushed with a mixture of olive oil, and water and some bakers add sea salt. 

Then, it is baked in large copper pans for a higher heat transfer rate between 475-490 F. Some bakers prefer larger pans up to 30 inches to accommodate awaiting crowds of focaccia lovers.

Connecticut Hot Oil Pizza. These pizzas said to originate in 1935 during the depression at the Colony Grill in Stamford, which was owned by Irish Americans but had cooks that were Italian. They were designed to be smaller 12-inch size rather than a large pizza size to fit on the bar. These thin-crust pizzas are distinguished by a thin sauce and cheese followed by a nice slathering of serrano pepper oil all over it and the addition of local sausage.

Man ‘oushe’. This Lebanese pizza gets its name derived from the word na ‘sh, which refers to the way the bakers’ fingertips “engrave” the dough. Many different bakeries sell these thin and foldable pies mixed with both bread flour and cake flour at 58 percent hydration. This direct method dough is held from two to four hours at room temperature. 

The Jibneh wa harr, or “Hot cheese pie” is a favorite which is baked in a 450 F oven with tomato, onion, cumin and hot pepper paste with plenty of ‘Akkawi cheese. 

Another favorite is the Za ‘tar Man ‘oushe wa jawz, or Wild thyme pie with walnuts.

Scrocciarella. Derived from the word Scroccia, (which means “crunch”) This type of Roman pizza style can easily confused with Pizza Tonda, a round, crunchy-stiff but foldable pizza served in Rome. This somewhat complicated name is used to describe other Roman-style crusts that exhibit a cracker crunch (but) an airy interior with large bubbles, like Pizza in Teglia, cracker-like exterior, baked plain and often looks like a long, very thin, cracker-crusted focaccia made with 50-80 percent hydration, with three to six percent olive oil (some prefer seed oil). 

While some bakers don’t use yeast and others proof for six to eight hours to bake the same day in a non-aggressive wood-fired oven. But other Scrocciarella bakers prefer baking the plain dough after long cold fermentation. These pizzas are popular with Romans and are cut or cracked like crackers and topped with a myriad of toppings like anchovy mayo, artichokes, ricotta, stracciatella, olives and tomato. The name Scrocciarella is also used now as a proprietary flour mix sold by Italmill.

Sardinian Pane Frattau. Initially invented by Sardinian housewives to honor King Umberto I when he visited the island. This magical transformative pizza from Barbagia, a central region of Sardinia is made from one of the thinnest breads in the world called Pane Carasau, or “toasted bread” in Sardinian dialect and called Carta di Musica or “sheet music.” Two thin and brittle sheets of dried bread undergo this transformation to a pasta by an initial soak in vegetable broth then placed on a plate and topped with tomato sauce, Pecorino Sardo and a poached egg.

Tarte Flambee’. This Alsatian Pizza is also called Flammekueche in the German speaking Moselle region of Alsace. This is a traditional pizza baked by farmers who baked only once a week and was used to test the heat of their wood-fired ovens. The traditional square or rectangular style is covered with Cream Fraiche or Fromage Blanc, sliced onions and lardons of bacon and baked in a very hot oven for one to two minutes to form a charred crust. Variations include Gratinee or Munster, using Gruyere and Munster cheeses respectively, or Forestier with mushrooms.

St. Louis Thin Crust. This thin-crusted pizza is made without yeast producing a thin, cracker-like crust. This pizza is cut into three to four-inch squares, as some would call “tavern-style cut”, some say because a founder of a local chain used to be a tile-cutter, 🤣but others say to support the weight of multiple toppings. The distinguishing characteristic of the sauce is said to reflect the Sicilian immigrant influence and is sweeter with a strong oregano flavor. St. Louis style often includes Provel cheese, which is a trademarked cheese combining Swiss, Provolone, and White Cheddar.

Author John Gutekanst owns Avalanche Pizza in Athens, Ohio.

Let's Write about actors who portray the role of Jesus

The Way
Jesus Walks Into a Deli echo report published in The New Yorker July 31, 2023.

Jonathan Roumie, who stars as Christ on “The Chosen,” a (SAG-AFTRA-approved: In other words, as of 08/07/2023, end of business day), this list includes productions that are signed to agreements within the scope of the strike order, but have signed Interim Agreements allowing them to resume.) TV series about the New Testament, charms some acolytes over pastrami sandwiches.  

Jonathan Roumie, the forty-nine-year-old actor who plays Jesus Christ in “The Chosen,” a popular crowdfunded TV series about the New Testament’s protagonist, ascended the steps of St. Patrick’s Cathedral for noon Mass. 

But, before he could make it through the sanctuary’s nine-ton bronze doors, he was spotted by fans. “We just want a picture with Jesus!” one woman said.

Roumie politely obliged. The fan, it turned out, was among the thousands of pilgrims who’d travelled to Texas a few summers ago to be extras in Season 2’s Sermon on the Mount episode.

“Oh, my heavens, my husband is going to just die,” she said, posing with Roumie.

“You have touched our hearts in ways they have never been touched before,” her friend added.

Roumie headed for the pews. The son of an Egyptian father and an Irish mother, he is olive-skinned and bearded, and his brown hair grazed the shoulders of his leather jacket. He searched his pockets for a hair tie. “I’m going to put it up in a ponytail,” he said. “It helps a bit.”

Born in Hell’s Kitchen*—God has a sense of humor 😇—and baptized Greek Orthodox, Roumie and his family began attending a Catholic church after moving to the suburbs. His faith deepened in May, 2018, following an incident that has become gospel to his fans. After two decades struggling in the industry (bit parts on “All My Children,” sitcoms, and video games), Roumie was broke. He fell to his knees in his tiny apartment, surrendered to God, and had a mystical experience. Unburdened, he spent his last twenty dollars on a big breakfast, and, when he got home, he found in his mailbox four unexpected checks. A few months later, he got a call from Dallas Jenkins, the director and co-writer of “The Chosen.”


Jenkins’s father, Jerry, is the co-author of the best-selling Rapture-pulp novels in the “Left Behind” series. Jenkins cites “Friday Night Lights,” “The Wire,” and “The West Wing” as inspirations for “The Chosen.” The show, which now has licensing deals with Netflix, Amazon, and Peacock, has been streamed more than five hundred million times. Earlier this month, when the series had to stop filming its fourth season because of the sag-aftra strike, fans launched a social-media prayer campaign to lobby for an exemption. (“Satan is working overtime to stop production of this show”; “Father . . . please change the hearts of those who have the authority, which You gave, to approve the exemption.”) The union allowed the series to resume production.

In St. Patrick’s, the ponytail gambit had failed. As the priest gave his concluding blessing, a small queue formed near where Roumie knelt. He gave the acolytes his own brief blessings, then set off on foot for Sarge’s Deli, in Murray Hill.

He ordered the Skyscraper Deluxe, essentially a cheeseburger topped with pastrami, but he asked for lettuce instead of a bun. After saying grace, he tackled the sandwich, relieved that his fellow-diners were leaving him be. “I never wanted to lose my anonymity,” he said. “God had other plans.”

Roumie is an introvert. He has to push himself to be available to fans (who often address him as Jesus), and to make eye contact while listening. He remembers how, back before he was famous, he once approached a celebrity who treated his admiration as a nuisance.

His efforts to be openhearted are a matter of faith as well: What would Jesus do? “Jesus is the only character who I would hope to stay in character as all the time,” he said. The Method meets theology. “But some people want a spiritual encounter, and that can be hard to live up to. I’m not Jesus.”

More than other actors that played the role of Jesus, like Robert Powell, Willem Dafoe, Jim Caviezel, or other actors who have worn the big sandals, Roumie channels the Saviour offscreen, as a Christian influencer. On a Catholic meditation app called Hallow, worshippers can offer a novena accompanied by his image, or pray using a rosary made by Ghirelli, an Italian jewelry brand that he partners with.

The idea of being typecast doesn’t bother him. He recently played a lead role in a bio-pic about the charismatic nineteen-seventies “hippie preacher” Lonnie Frisbee, called “Jesus Revolution.” In one scene, he says, “People tell me I’m trying to look like Jesus or something. I tell them, I can’t think of anybody else I’d rather look like.”

Roumie asked for the bill. The server grinned and said that someone had already paid it. “It’s like every step of the way I get these little reminders that He’s got my back,” he said. Outside, the couple who’d paid were waiting for a photo. ♦

Published in the print edition of the August 7, 2023, issue, with the headline “Role of a Lifetime.”

*Hell's Kitchen is a beloved New York City neighborhood with a little grit. Named for the notorious 19th century motorcycle gang, “Hell's Kitchen” was once a part of town where few New Yorkers thought to live. Its gritty reputation and far-west location kept it under the radar.