Many a time, when I walk the streets of this land I see UN cars, usually parking where mere humans like me can’t, because they have immunity and I don’t. Might makes Right. The UN also operates a special agency called UNRWA (United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees) which, according to their literature, helps some five million Palestinian refugees. How they got this huge number I don’t really know, but maybe I should visit a UNRWA camp during my current journey.
By now the cats have gone, probably busying themselves with various social activities on the sidewalks and under parked cars, and I have one little problem. It is Friday night and I’m in Jerusalem, where everything is closed. What can I do with my time?
Well, the Haredi people who made sure businesses are closed today are not sitting home doing nothing. They entertain themselves with holy activities; why shouldn’t I join them?
***
I pack my zekel beiner (“sack of bones,” oneself) and go to the most extreme of them, the Toldos Aharon group, the ones whose little children I visited a few weeks ago. I put on a white shirt and black pants, hide my iPhone and cigarettes, both of which are forbidden for use on the Sabbath, and put on a black skullcap. Life is a little theater.
The Rebbe (grand rabbi) must be back from his summer vacation in Austria, and on this night, at 11:00 p.m., I’m told, he will conduct a tish (table). This means that he will eat his Friday night meal in public, engulfed and encircled by his followers, as holy angels circle around him.
I enter Toldos Aharon.
The place is empty.
What has happened to the tish?
Well, how could I forget! I used to live in this neighborhood and I should know better. Yes, it starts at 11:00 p.m., and it is 11:00, but it’s not really 11:00! It’s 11:00 in the rest of Israel, but the people here have their own clock, Heaven Time, and according to their clock it’s only 10:00 p.m. now.
The good thing is that there’s another tish going on in the neighborhood. The Rebbe’s father, a famous miracle maker, had two children and when he died the Hasidic dynasty split into two. The other Rebbe starts his tish at 10:00 p.m. Heaven Time which is exactly now, 11:00.
I go to him. And tish he does.
On the Sabbath, or as pronounced here Shabbes, the followers dress in holiday clothes, which here means donning a bigger than average Hasidic fur hat, called a shtreimel, and golden gowns with thin blue stripes, plus a special white-and-gold belt, the gartel.
They look utterly beautiful and amazingy handsome. These men, let me tell you, are the only human males who know how to dress. A picture. They look, in a word, gorgeous. How come, I really want to know now, all other men on the planet dress themselves with the most horrible clothes known to the human mind? Not to mention most of my gay friends, who think human clothes mean T-shirts. Come here, O you gay men, and see how beautiful men can really look!
A striking image.
It takes these beautiful men mere minutes and they transform their synagogue into an arena, complete with bleachers for them to stand on to watch their Rebbe eat and drink. Men watching a man eat.
Is this a gay show, or what?
No, no. God forbid. Rebbes are holy and watching them eat and drink is the best cure to all diseases, of body and soul.
The Rebbe stands in front of his kingly armchair, as the multitudes of gold stare at him and sing unto him. “Ai ai ai, na, na, na, la, la, la, da, da, da, ai, ai ai, oy, oy, oy, ai, ai, ai.” Over and over, louder and louder.
Two bread loaves, khallahs, are in front of him. Each the size of an average missile, huge, covered with highly decorated pieces of cloth. Around him are gold and silver pitchers and cups, brilliantly shining, of the style and kind the richest of kings own. Six servants, here called shamashim, are standing ready to serve him.
He blows his nose.
All look how a holy man blows his nose.
It is important to know.
A servant pours the wine.
All start singing.
And as soon as they start, they stop.
The Rebbe picks up his wine cup.
All sing, again. Loudly.
The Rebbe opens his mouth. Quietly, with unrecognizable diction, and I can hardly hear a syllable. All are quiet. Then he screams something, in a very unclear voice, but his followers don’t care. He is a holy man, directly connected to God, and whatever he says, God understands. God understands the language of cats, dogs, lions, and birds, and He surely understands the language of this Holy Rebbe.
Time moves on. It’s midnight soon, meaning 11:00 p.m. Heaven Time, and I’d like to see the other Rebbe too.
I go there.
The Rebbe is not yet there, only his followers, who are waiting for him.
They, too, are golden people.
Quite a number of them, by the way, are blond. This is the highest concentration of blond Jews that I’ve seen so far in this land. Blond Jews dressed in gold. Excellent combo.
Until he comes, I check out what the Golden study in this place.
I read: “On Friday, in preparation for the holy Shabbes, a Jew must cut his fingernails. How to cut the nails? Thusly: First cut the nail of the fourth finger of the left hand, then of the second finger, then of the fifth, then of the third, then of the first. Switch hands and start cutting the nail of the second finger, then of the fourth, then of the first, third and fifth. Do this and you’ll be safe.”
Bingo.
The Rebbe enters and about a thousand followers cheer him on with “ai, ai, ai” that hardly ends. This Rebbe looks as if he has more energy than his brother, which might explain why he has more followers.
The Rebbe emits some painful sounds, and they listen. I’m not sure, but the pain could signify his longing for the hotel in Austria. He makes an attempt at singing, and they loudly respond back: “Oy, oy, oy.”
A non-religious outsider coming in would probably think that these people are total nuts, brainwashed cultists who get a high by staring at their leader sneezing. This outsider would be right, indeed, and it reminds me what I felt when I saw educated people in the States and in Europe screaming with excitement when they watched President Barack Obama raise a hand or move his nose.
Are these Golden People in any way similar to the secular intellectual Jews of Tel Aviv? Not in one iota. These Jews here, though as anti-Zionist as their brethren in Tel Aviv, are proud people and they’re dressed a million times better than the others. They are The Chosen Golden, the Hot and the Beautiful.
***
I leave the Hot Boys and walk back to my stray cats. I don’t see them. I put a big portion of milk out for them, just in case. In seconds they fly in from God knows where, the whole family, plus a new relative I have never met before, and they drink, together. And two of them, having no shame and doing it right in front of my eyes, start making love in my Holy Garden for all to see. If the Chosen Golden saw this, they would be shouting their “Oy, oy, oy” so loud that all the dead in the Mount of Olives would jump out of their graves in ecstatic dances.
In Egypt men fall like flies, in the German Colony cats make love. I go to sleep.
Gate Seventeen
Sponsored by the European Commission, Italian teenagers come to the Holy Land to take pictures of homeless Palestinians.
TIME GOES BY AND I MEET ALL KINDS OF PEOPLE AND DOWNLOAD ALL KINDS of apps. For example this one, which is capable of telling me which bus in the city is closest to me. Amazing how things work, real life on a chip. No printed schedules at any bus stop around, just your iPhone. Why can’t they do this in New York? My iPhone connects with the GPS of buses all around and I can tell where a bus is at any given moment. Is it accurate? Let’s see: Which buses are moving around? It says here that bus number 18 is approaching. Is it? Yes, right there ahead I see it coming.
I let it pass and check my surroundings. Here I see a bunch of IDF Bedouin soldiers, who seem to feel pretty comfy in army uniform. Here’s a bunch of Russians. And here’s a bunc
h of American religious Jews, speaking in Los Angeles accent. Funny. And here’s a German guy who greets me. Here is a bunch of French people, and here a couple of Ethiopians. And then some more Germans, and then a few Brits. This street looks very much like the United Nations, only without a Security Council; nobody here has a veto power.
I take the next bus. Today I’m going to join an Israeli tour guide and a bunch of Italian teenagers, on an educational trip arranged by an Italian institution in Milano.
***
We meet at Damascus Gate/Bab al-Amud/Shaar Shkhem, and we are heading to an “Arab village destroyed by the Jews in 1948.”
Good.
Itamar Shapira, the guide hired by the Italians, will be leading the tour.
“Welcome to Israel, Palestine,” he greets us on the bus, belonging to an Arab company and driven by an Arab. Itamar is the only Jew here.
We are going to be treated today to a research tour that will teach us about Israeli occupation and annexation of Arab lands in Israel, Palestine.
“Jerusalem has 900,000 residents: 36 percent Arab, 20 percent ultra-Orthodox, 10 percent secular, who are the Israeli elite of European background, and the rest are the monster creatures, the settlers.” So says Itamar, as the bus is moving to its destination. A police van is driving by us, and Itamar explains: “This is the ‘skunk,’ a vehicle used by the police to disperse demonstrators.” The impression we all get, and I guess this is what Itamar is driving at: Israel is a police state.
We keep moving, until we reach our first destination, at the main entrance of Jerusalem. The “village,” a bunch of deserted houses called Lifta. We get off and start walking down the hill. Itamar spots a shaded area and we pause our walk for a short lecture by him. The Jews “seized this village in 1952,” after passing a new law, when they also seized “92–94 percent of the rest of Israel,” within what’s called the Green Line. It is via this law, he adds, that the “Jews expropriated Arab-owned lands all over.”
The young Italians stand or sit around Itamar and listen. They take pictures, some write down everything he says, and all are intimately involved, as if this piece of land belonged to their grandparents. They look at the deserted structures of the old houses, as one would look at his or her childhood favorite place, and they are pissed off that grandpa and grandma ain’t here anymore. No human walking by and observing them would in a million years guess that these kids landed at Ben-Gurion Airport only yesterday, and that for the first time.
Itamar has maps that he uses to teach us history, and he loves to talk about “Jews.” How many Jews are there in the world? One asks. Itamar says this is hard to tell. “Some say there are fifty-five million Jews in the world, some say twenty million, others say twelve million.”
Is he Jewish?
“I don’t consider myself Jewish, I consider myself an ex-Jew.”
They laugh. And then one asks: Can Christians become citizens of Israel?
“You can convert to Judaism, become a Jew and become a citizen. But I wouldn’t advise you to become a Jew.”
The Italians now laugh louder.
I take a moment to speak with the organizer of the Italian group, a young lady named Alice. I ask her which organization is behind this trip and how much it all costs.
“This trip is organized by Casa per la Pace Milano, a peace organization, to provide peace education training. Each person pays around one thousand euros for two weeks in Israel and the Occupied Territories.”
Alice is visiting the Occupiers’ land for the fourth time. It all started a few years ago when she spent three months in Nablus and fell in love with the Palestinian people.
How many other countries is Casa per la Pace Milano interested in?
“Israel is defying and breaking international law, does not keep agreements it signed, does not respect human rights, and is an occupying force.”
Got it. But how many other countries does Casa per la Pace Milano organize trips to? Or, maybe, Israel is the only country in the world that does not respect human rights?
“There are other countries, yes, there are.”
And is Casa per la Pace Milano organizing trips to those countries as well?
“No, no. Only here.”
A thousand euros, including flights, tours, hotel, food, and whatever else?
“Yes, a thousand euros. But don’t publish the article before next month, okay?”
Why not?
“The Israelis would expel me if they knew – ”
A thousand euros is very little. Who is paying the rest?
“The organization.”
Who gives them the money to do this?
“The European Commission.”
So, the European Commission is funding this trip. Right?
“Yes.”
We take a photo together. Next month, when back in Italy, Alice would love to see her picture published.
I ask Alice if, for the sake of looking at all sides, she and her friends also go to the other side, the Jews, and hear what they have to say.
Well, she says to me, the group is with the Jews today and tomorrow, meaning with Itamar, and later they will be with the Palestinians. This way they will see both sides.
No wonder Silvio Berlusconi was the longest-serving postwar prime minister of Italy. It takes the Italians ages before they figure out they make no sense.
I take a moment to think of what has just transpired: The European Commission, meaning the EU, is funding trips of young Europeans to Israel, educational trips of course. These EU-funded NGOs know exactly which tour guides they want to use, ones like Itamar. In other words: The NGOs search the land for the “best” Jews, the ex-Jews, who are guaranteed to speak the worst about Israel and its Jews. Why, in God’s name, is the EU funding them?
The trip continues. The Italians want to eat, and they are taken to Damascus Gate to eat in Arab restaurants. From there they are going to continue the trip and see more evidence of Israeli illegal and brutal treatment of Palestinians.
***
While they are to have their lunch I take the time to meet Gerald M. Steinberg, who founded the right-leaning NGO Monitor, which is supposed to be “observing the observers.”
I reach his office by taxi. His office, which is quite simple, is made up of fifteen employees who are “monitoring around 150 international NGOs” operating in Israel and Palestine, or those that are dedicated to this issue.
Of those 150, he tells me, “at least 50 NGOs are funded by Germany or German foundations.”
And they are on which side?
“All of them are pro-Palestinian.”
The German Protestant Brot für die Welt, he tells me, “is one of the worst.” They fund social groups that try to “convince Israeli youngsters not to join the army.”
How do you explain that Germans are so pro-Palestinian?
“They follow the crowds. NGOs started in Scandinavia, and Germany was the last to enter into the world of NGOs and the world of anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism activities.”
I ask Gerald if he also knows how much money is flowing from the German TV and film industry into Israeli movies.
Gerald gives me a look of total shock. Somehow, he never thought about this little genie. He doesn’t even know how to check it, but he’ll try.
Which reminds me that Alesia Weston of the Cinematheque promised to get back to me on this but still hasn’t. I shoot her an e-mail.
***
Time flies fast and I am to re-hook up with the Italians. I call Itamar, just to make sure the group is still at the Gate, but he doesn’t pick up.
I walk the streets and see an advertisement on a wall about a rabbi named David Batsri who is “repairing sins” of people in the yeshiva that he heads. Sounds interesting, right?
This is better, much better, than any app ever invented by any Israeli high-tech genius!
Gate Eighteen
Ordained by God and the angels, a rabbi will save you from turning into a she-a
ss.
AS HIS NAME IMPLIES, DAVID BATSRI IS OF THE SEPHARDI COMMUNITY, AND reading the ad it appears that he is part of the Sephardi Haredi world, politically known as Shas. This part of society is huge in numbers and quite powerful. They are Jews who originated in Arab lands, but who have come under the influence of Ashkenazic fanatic rabbis. As a result, they study like a German and imagine like an Arab. This can be a great mix, but can also result in a huge mess.
Let’s see how Shas people mix.
Rabbi Batsri is not in attendance when I enter his Yeshiva, but other rabbis are, and at least one of them, I think, is Batsri’s son.
All present, by the way, have been told to fast the whole day, as part of erasing their sins. Sin erasure is very important, by the way. For, be it known to all: if you spill your seed, even only once in your life, you will be sent to burn in hell for the rest of eternity.
Of course, according to Rabbi Batsri, who enters a few minutes later, and the others here, who themselves follow Batsri, God is merciful, especially to his Chosen People. It is therefore that God is offering a solution to the seed spiller: if he fasts 420 days, Batsri says, the spillage sin will be forgiven.
Just so no one confuses reality here, the rabbi is offering everyone in attendance a printed sheet of fast days for different sins. Murder: 1,199 days of fasting will get you off the hook. Sleeping with a married woman: 325. Masturbation: 4,000. Yes, this is not a typo; playing with your penis is worse than murder. You will have this sin forgiven and forgotten only, only, if you fast 4,000 days. In other words: eleven years.
In general, the rabbi says, each individual present should be fasting for 26,249 days if he or she wants to be purified of all sins. In other words: seventy-two years.
How could we, the Chosen, survive a lifetime without food?
Ramadan suddenly looks really, really cool. Could I still convert to Islam?
Rabbi Batsri is not impressed by my worries. In accompanying pages handed out to us, he lists the following: “A man who has sex with his wife during menstruation will be reincarnated as a gentile woman. A man who has sex with a married woman will be reincarnated as a donkey. A man who has sex with his own mother will be reincarnated as a she-ass. A man who has sex with his father’s wife will be reincarnated as a camel. A man who has sex with a gentile woman will be reincarnated as a Jewish whore.”
Catch The Jew! Page 15