Officially, this is the world's funniest joke. You judge.
Two hunters are out in the woods in New Jersey when one of them collapses. He doesn't seem to be breathing and his eyes are glazed.
The other guy whips out his phone and calls the emergency services. He gasps 'My friend is dead! What can I do?' The operator says: 'Calm down, I can help. First, let's make sure he's dead.'
There is a silence, then a shot is heard. Back on the phone, the guy says 'OK, now what?'
This week, a Sumo stable from Japan - the Sadogatake Beya - is visiting Israel.
This is a rare happening, as Sumo wrestlers (rikishi) seldom leave Japan. They were hosted by the president and various other officials, "trained" children on Tel Aviv beach and visited a children's hospital (where I accidentally bumped into them yesterday morning on my way to work; fortunately, not literally bumped).
Last night they conducted a friendly tournament in Caesarea, at the ancient Roman open-air amphitheatre. I was pleasantly surprised, both by the almost-full attendance and by how well the whole thing was organized, complete with running commentary by Motti Dichne, who provided much useful information about the sport.
The "competition" was won by Koto-Oshu (a.k.a. Mahlyanov Kaloyan Stefanov), a Bulgarian who is currently no. 3 in Japan. His parents flew in from Bulgaria for the event. Increasingly, non-Japanese are excelling in Sumo; the current champion (yokozuna), Asa Sho Ryu, is from Mongolia.
I will not bore you with lengthy explanations about this exceptional sport (see link above for that); instead, here are some pictures from the event (click on pictures to enlarge):
Dohyou - the arena, made of clay and sand
Fat, but extremly flexible and agile
The Israeli "children Sumo club" take on Koto Oshu
Koto Oshu gets his hair done; each wrestler has a distinctive hairdo
A favourite gimmick in Sumo fights: giant holding baby
Tsuridashi - lifting opponent by mawashi (a.k.a "the diaper")
Koto Oshu and the cup
In short: At an amphitheatre in an ancient Roman city in the Jewish state of Israel, a bunch of Japanese wrestlers got their asses kicked by a Bulgarian.
It must be difficult to admit failure after 36 years of activity around a central idea. Yet this is exactly what Rabbi Dr. Danier Tropper did today in an interview published in Haaretz (Hebrew).
Tropper founded and managed Gesher ("bridge" in Hebrew), an organization that works to promote mutual understanding among Israelis of all backgrounds, specifically religious and secular, through joint seminars, movie productions, etc. It is funded partly by the government and partly by donations (mostly from the US).
Tropper resigned his post recently and these are his observations about the outcome of Gesher's efforts after more than three and a half decades of activity:
These are not great insights to anyone who lives here, but hearing these things from someone who dedicated his life to trying to bridge the gaps in Israeli society and make Israel a better place, is both sad and disheartening.
Last Friday was the holiday of Shavu’ot (Pentacost) and, as is customary, one stays up all night to study Torah. At 3AM I heard an interesting talk from Rabbi Yuval Sherlo which I enjoyed very much. It was based on things said by Rabbi Yaakov Medan (co-head of Har Etzion yeshivah). I will try to reconstruct it from memory.
Every Friday evening, after returning from the synagogue and before dinner, the husband recites the concluding 22 verses of the book of Mishlei (Proverbs), known as Eshet Chayil. The translation of the Hebrew word chayil into English is not simple; some translate it as valour, others as accomplished or competent – hence “woman of valour” or “accomplished woman”.
From the context of the text, it is clear that the eshet chayil is an extremely resourceful woman: she provides for the home, she gets up before dawn, she feeds the poor, she makes and sells things and she is wise and kind. It is not suprising that the expression eshet chayil has become synonymous with a most fine woman, a woman to marry. This acrostic hymn is recited by the husband to symbolize his gratitude for having such a great wife. The Midrash attributes eshet chayil to Abraham, who composed it as a eulogy for his wife Sarah.
But turning back to the book of Mishlei, who is this woman of valour? Was there a historic figure that was the “original” eshet chayil?
Chapter 31 of Mishlei opens with “The words of king Lemuel, the burden with which his mother corrected him”, and continues with the mother’s king chastising her son for consorting with the wrong kind of women and for being drunk. She tells him not to forget his duty as king, which is to judge righteously and plead the cause of the poor and needy. And later in the chapter (verse 23) the husband of the eshet chayil is described as someone who is “known at the gates, where he sits among the elders”. As we know from the Bible, the Judges of Israel sat at the gates of the city, so as to be available to the public. In other words, the husband is none other than the king of Israel, who is by nature of his job also a judge.
[Some commentators went as far as to identify Lemuel as king Shlomo (Solomon), and the whole monologue by his mother taking place on the morning of the day of the consecration of the Temple. Shlomo is late in waking up after a night of excessive drinking and inappropriate consorting, no less...]
So, if the husband is Shlomo, who is the eshet chayil? Is Shlomo’s mother describing a real woman? It seems not. She scolds her son for his present wives and concubines and then launches into the long hymn of Eshet Chayil to describe the woman her son should have married. She gives him the “blueprint” for the woman he should be looking for, the woman of valour that will take care of the poor that he will judge, that will make sure the household is taken care of while he serves the people at the gates.
And now for the interesting part. If we search the Bible we find only one woman who is described in the words “eshet chayil”: Ruth, the Moabite widow who decided to become Jewish and follow her destitute mother-in-law to Israel. After her husband-to-be Boaz finds her sleeping at his feet in the field and hears her story, he cries out “for you are an eshet chayil!” (Ruth 3, 11). Ruth is the archetype of all women of valour; she symbolizes what every man, certainly a king, should aspire to find in the woman he marries. And it is on Shavu'ot that we read the story of Ruth.
Shlomo’s mother is not making up an imaginary woman. She reminds her son where he comes from, what his roots are. Remember, she tells him, "charm is deceptive and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears God shall be praised" (verse 30). She asks him to look to his great-great-grandmother, Ruth, in order to find the model for the woman he should marry – the eshet chayil.
-----------------------
Here is the hymn of Eshet Chayil (Mishlei 31, 10-31) in Hebrew transliteration and English:
Eshet chayil mi yimtza v'rachok mip'ninim michrah
An accomplished woman, who can find? Her value is far beyond pearls.
Batach bah lev ba'lah v'shalal lo yechsar
Her husband's heart relies on her and he shall lack no fortune.
G'malathu tov v'lo ra kol y'mei chayeiha
She does him good and not evil, all the days of her life.
Darshah tzemer ufishtim vata'as b'chefetz kapeiha
She seeks wool and flax, and works with her hands willingly.
Haitah ka'oniyot socher mimerchak tavi lachmah
She is like the merchant ships, she brings her bread from afar.
Vatakom b'od lailah vatiten teref l'vetah v'chok l'na'aroteiha
She arises while it is still night, and gives food to her household and a portion to her maidservants.
Zam'mah sadeh vatikachehu mip'ri chapeiha nat'ah karem
She plans for a field, and buys it. With the fruit of her hands she plants a vineyard.
Chagrah b'oz motneiha vat'ametz zro'oteiha
She girds her loins in strength, and makes her arms strong.
Ta'amah ki tov sachrah lo yichbeh balailah nerah
She knows that her merchandise is good. Her candle does not go out at night.
Yadeha shilchah bakishor v'chapeiha tamchu falech
She sets her hands to the distaff, and holds the spindle in her hands.
Kapah parsah le'ani v'yadeiha shil'chah la'evyon
She extends her hands to the poor, and reaches out her hand to the needy.
Lo tira l'vetah mishaleg ki chol betah lavush shanim
She fears not for her household because of snow, because her whole household is warmly dressed.
Marvadim astah lah shesh v'argaman l'vushah
She makes covers for herself, her clothing is fine linen and purple.
Noda bash'arim ba'lah b'shivto im ziknei aretz
Her husband is known at the gates, when he sits among the elders of the land.
Sadin astah vatimkor vachagor natnah lak'na'ani
She makes a cloak and sells it, and she delivers aprons to the merchant.
Oz v'hadar l'vushah vatischak l'yom acharon
Strength and honor are her clothing, she smiles at the future.
Piha patchah b'chochma v'torat chesed al l'shonah
She opens her mouth in wisdom, and the lesson of kindness is on her tongue.
Tzofi'ah halichot betah v'lechem atzlut lo tochel
She watches over the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Kamu vaneha vay'ash'ruha ba'lah vay'hal'lah
Her children rise and praise her, her husband lauds her.
Rabot banot asu chayil v'at alit al kulanah
Many women have done worthily, but you surpass them all.
Sheker hachen v'hevel hayofi ishah yir'at Hashem hi tit'halal
Charm is deceptive and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears God shall be praised.
T'nu lah mip'ri yadeiha vihal'luha vash'arim ma'aseha
Give her of the fruit of her hands, and let her works praise her in the gates.
Those studying the Daf Yomi have this week come across (one version) of the story about Pinchas Ben Yair's donkey, a story brought by the Talmud to support the saying: "If the rishonim (the sages of early ages) were like men, then we are like donkeys". This saying is oft quoted to illustrate the concept of the "decline of the generations" (yeridat ha-dorot), the decline of Torah scholarship across generations.
"Man in the Shadows" is more of a political memoir than an account of the Mossad's activities. Halevy played a dominant role as the secret envoy of several Israeli prime ministers (Shamir, Peres, Rabin, Netanyahu, Barak and Sharon) and as such was privy to many negotiations that shaped the region's politics in the 1990s. He writes of these experiences in a low-key and level-headed manner; rarely does he lapse into the emotional zone and when he does so it usually, and suprisingly, concerns Shimon Peres and/or the Israeli foreign services. Although not stated in so many words, it is clear that Halevy has little sympathy for Peres. He speaks fondly of other prime ministers he served under, but for Peres he has nothing but scorn and distrust. As for the foreign office diplomats, he makes them out to look like total amateurs.
Reading the Daily Yomiuri over breakfast this morning (I am in Tokyo this week) I came across some distressing news: the number of sento in Tokyo has fallen below 1,000! The exact number as of today - everything is tracked and recorded in Japan - is 999.
Many years ago - it was either in the application for an MBA or during the Foreign Office tests, I don't recall exactly - I was asked to write a short essay about the person I admired most. I chose Steph Wertheimer, the Israeli entrepreneur who set up his business empire, the Iscar group, in northern Israel. Wertheimer was a Member of the Knesset for four years, built the industrial park in Tefen and the neighbouring community of Kefar Veradim. In 1991 he received the highest award the State of Israel can bestow upon its citizens - The Israel Prize.
Warren Buffet, the legendary investor and "the world's second richest man", announced yesterday that his investment company will buy 80% of Iscar for 4 billion dollars. That's a valuation worth more than 4% of Israel's annual GDP, for a privately-owned company!
Beyond its economic value, this deal has tremendous implications regarding foreign investment in Israel. Kudos to the Wertheimer family; Israel needs more of these people.
A Maccabi player against a CSKA player. Both 2nd rate players from the US, NBA dropouts or wannabees, mercenaries in the world of professional basketball. And yet they manage to stir up enough passion and interest among Israelis (me included!), who still view a victory by Maccabi Tel Aviv as a victory of "the Jews against the goyim".
The Balcony: then and now.
I put my elbows on the stone wall, leaned forward, looked thoughtfully at the other bank and tried to concentrate hard, to capture that unique "Zionist moment". Conclusion: I have no clue what made Theodor yearn for the dusty landscape of Palestine while watching the beautiful Rhine river flowing vigorously a few feet below. He must have been smoking something. Or perhaps I should have waited longer, enough time to grow a beard.
One of the least appealing aspects of life in Israel is living side-by-side with "The Israeli Arse". No, I am not referring to the backsides of my fellow denizens. I'm talking about that ubiquitous character that makes life in Israel much more colourful perhaps, but at times also very annoying and almost unbearable.
The "Arse" is by now a stereotype: tight jeans, white t-shirts, copious amounts of hair jel, heavy golden jewelery, hand jestures, blue neon lights under the car, etc... (if you've lost me here, watch the movie I linked to above). But what used to be an amusing anthropological pastime has fast become the norm of Israeli society. "Arseem" are everywhere: on the road, in supermarkets, in malls, at the airport, in the synagogue. Perhaps it's just my being away for a few years, but it seems like the "Arseem" population has grown immensely.
But it's more than that really. The "Arseem" themselves are not the whole problem. What bothers me is the the "Arse culture" which seems to have become the de-facto Israeli culture, the zeitgeist. The total lack of basic manners (queuing up, or saying "sorry" after bumping into someone), the rudeness, the loud talking, the lack of respect for other people's space or even presence. I find myself appraising people judgmentally on the street and in shops, to ascertain whether they are friends or foes.
I am currently reading a book about the 1967 "six day war", which describes the general atmosphere of Israeli society before, during and after the war. What a different country! I'm not referring to the political/military differences but to how people wrote, spoke and behaved. Despite the harder times - both economically and politically - people back then had respect for fellow citizen and for country. I regret to say I don't see that around me today. It's every man for himself (except for rare moments of short-lived unity, around some major tragedy like a suicide bombing).
Last week, after a particularly nasty road incident with an "Arse" (I use the term freely here; he looked pretty respectable but his driving was definitely "Arse" in nature), I remembered something a friend told me many years ago. We were talking about life in Israel and how hard it was to get used to some aspects of it, and he said: "There is no choice. At a certain point in your life you come to realize that in order to protect your family and your sanity, you need to erect virtual walls around you. You block yourself off from the rest of the world and care only about the ones you love most". How true, and how sad.
A friend of mine opened a hair styling salon in Tel Aviv last month. He and I did our MBA together. Like me, he works at a high-tech company and is used to life in the fast lane, but a couple of years ago he decided he would learn how to cut hair and open his own salon.
I guess Wolfe was out to write the definitive book about college life. And indeed the book is nothing but a long (700+ pages) description of the frivolities of college students. It is full of stereotypical characters: the basketball players who get academic discounts and lead a life (literally) above the rest, the drunken frat boys and the giggly sorority girls, the group of smart nerds who are after the Rhodes scholarship and, above all, the innocent hillybilly who cannot believe it all - Charlotte. Wolfe, in his charcteristic style, does not leave much to the imagination when describing Charlotte's encounter with college life. One of ther first experiences on campus are the sounds produced by a boy defecating loudly in the stalls of the co-ed bathroom (I will spare you the details). Shortly thereafter, Charlotte's room-mate throws her out in the middle of the night so that she can spend time there alone with her boyfriend; thus Charlotte learns what it means to be "sexiled". And so on and so forth.
Despite its weakness in credibility - I refuse to believe this is what life in Ivy League colleges is all about - what saves this book is Wolfe's excellent writing style, captivating the reader and transporting him to a world that although removed from reality seems at the same time very realistic. I read the book while travelling between three continents and it was a faithful companion on the long flights and sleepless nights. As far as pop fiction goes, it's an entertaining read.
One final thought. Wolfe, author of excellent books such as Bonfire of Vanities and A Man in Full, gives thanks in the foreward to the book to his daughters, who apparently let him into the secret lives of college students based on first-hand experiences. If I am Charlotte Simmons faithfully portrays what Wolfe's daughters went through in college, I shudder to think how he reacted, as a father, when hearing their stories.
There was a solar eclipse today. In Israel it was only partial, but still quite impressive.
Sadly, while I was watching the sun being gradually eclipsed by the shadow of the moon, I could not but think about the greater eclipse that occurred only hours earlier: the great vanishing act of the Israeli electorate. In this election - which saw the disappearance of the third largest party, the near-disappearance of the ruling party and the suprising rise of a party of sexagenarians - a large portion of the Israeli public chose not to choose. This election set a record low turnout (just over 60%), in a country that used to be proud of the deep involvement of its citizens in the democratic process.
Some say this is the result of a general feeling of "what's the point?". Israelis have long distrusted their politicians and with Prime Ministers such as Netanyahu and Barak who can blame them? But maybe this is only another sign of Israel growing up and becoming a "normal" country; after all, in most Western democracies the voter turnout is even lower. Perhaps it is time to follow the Australian example, and fine people who choose not to vote. Especially as election day is traditionally a day off in Israel, giving people ample time to spend a few minutes fulfilling their democratic duty. The chutzpah has no limits..
Three months after leaving Tokyo, I was back. A whole week in Tokyo, mostly business, but with a weekend in the middle.
Truth is... it felt like home. No problem giving the taxi drivers directions in Japanese, no need for a map to get around and a general feeling of ease and familiarity. Yes, I know it's only been three months, but given my hectic work schedule of late and the incessant running around getting settled back in Israel, it seemed like much more.
The Japanese are as polite and as service-oriented as ever. No big suprise here, but now that I'm back living in Israel, the contrast is even starker. Nobody tried to jump a queue; nobody ignored me when I stepped up to a service counter (be it in a shop, a hotel, a train station... anywhere); and most importantly, nobody pushed, shoved and shouted his/her way through. In a way it's ironic: a metropolis triple the size (in population) with merely a fraction of the stress and tension so common on Israeli streets.
But I ramble... It was great to be back, if only for a short while.
Leipzig is "the city of Bach". The great composer spent the last three decades of his life here, as the director of music and cantor at the St. Thomas church. Outside the church stands a larger-than-life statue of the plump Sebastian. Leipzig also prides itself for other notable German culture heroes: Goethe studied here; Felix Mendelssohn lived here.
In more recent history, Leipzig is known as the city where the "Peaceful Revolution" began in 1989, with demonstrations outside the famous St. Nicholas church, culminating in the fall of communism and unification of Germany.
The old city centre is a small area, easily explored on foot, enabling the passing tourist to see it all in a couple of hours: the old and new city halls, the churches, the tall university building (that is no longer the university) and other famous buildings such as the opera house and a couple of ancient restaurants and coffe shops.
But the memory I will carry with me from Leipzig is from none of the above. In the middle of an innocuous square, not far from St. Thomas church, stand a few dozen wooden chairs. They mark the site of the former synagogue of the Jewish community of Leipzig, destroyed in the events following Kristallnacht in November 1938. More powerful than any monument, these simple chairs serve as a reminder of a community of 11,000 Jews that is no more.
For a while now I've been meaning to write about the infernal bureaucratic road one has to follow when building a new house in Israel. But every time I started writing I found myself wondering where to begin, how to convey the horror of it all in one post - thoughts which quickly led to despair and abandonment of the effort. The labyrinthian nature of this kafkaesque experience requires writing skill that are beyond my capabilities.
So instead of a comprehensive post I will tell of one small incident.
Our house is a semi-detached one, built behind a 5-storey building. The entrance to our house (and the other three adjacent to ours) is from the parking lot of the building, so one has to walk through the car entrance to the rear of the building before reaching the house. To the left of our house (and the building) is a public path that is about a metre below the level of the parking lot. Today, there is a fence between the parking lot and this public path.
A while ago, the four families living in the houses requested the local authorities to open a small opening in the fence and build a few stairs leading down to the public path. This way, people could enter our houses by walking down the public path and up the stairs, instead of walking all the way around the building and through the car entrance. Not to mention the safety issues of walking through the same road as the cars. Our request was backed with photographs and a draft engineering plan. After a short meeting at the city hall, the appropriate bureaucrat approved the concept "in principle" and everyone was happy.
A couple of months ago we received a letter saying that upon re-consideration the request was denied. No explanations given. We wrote a letter back requesting another meeting to understand this reversal of decision. After a few weeks of silence, and several phone calls, another bureaucrat agreed to see us. In the meeting, she produced a letter (supposedly sent to us but which we never received) saying that the decision was reversed because after a "visit by professionals" to the area they realized the height difference between the public path and the parking lot is "more than 2.5 metres" and thus requires a "significant" flight of stairs, which is unacceptable.
Sounds fair enough, right? After all, why construce a massive of more than 10 stairs on a public path just to satisfy four families? Well, not so easy. This morning I took a measuring tape and checked the height difference. Turns out it is less than a metre... All it takes is 3-4 stairs.
So what are the possibilities? Perhaps nobody ever came on-site and the city hall just thought they could brush us off with a letter? Or perhaps the measuring tape of the "professionals" they sent was a biblical one and they measured amot instead of metres? Or perhaps this is just standard procedure and we need to go through the "proper" number of meetings, phone calls, letters and voice-raising scenarios before getting to a positive resolution of the matter.
And this is just a drop in the ocean. Oh, if I were to start writing about the other hundreds (yes, hundreds) of problems one has to solve in order to find peace and tranquility under a new roof. A heartfelt recommendation to anyone considering building a new house in Israel: DON'T. Buy an existing one instead and spend your time and energy in renovating it.
I had a free half-day in London yesterday and decided to pay the British Museum a rather overdue visit (I think it's been 10 years since the last time). Not having too much time, I headed straight for the Ancient Far East rooms, which I remembered as being pretty impressive from my last visit.
As it turned out, I spent most of my time in and around the "Lachish" and the "Nineveh Palace" rooms, displaying items excavated in and around modern-day Iraq from the Sennacherib period. Sennacherib, king of Assyria in the 8th century BCE, is mentioned in the Bible and in the Talmud as the evil king from the North that descended upon Judah to try and quench the rebellion of the Jews in the times of king Hezekiah (helped by the Egyptians). He succeeded in conquering the city of Lachish, south-west of Jerusalem, but despite a long siege could not take Jerusalem and returned to his city of Nineveh. The Bible attributes this failure to a divine intervention: the angel of God descended upon Sennachrib's camp and killed 185,000 men (Melachim Bet). The Assyrian chronicles, on display at the British Museum, obviously tell a different story: Hezekiah was forced to surrender and to pay large sums of money to Sennacherib, and this is why the Assyrian king retreated back to his kingdom and spared the city.
Most of the reliefs in the Niniveh Palace room are partial, but the battle scenes they depict are still grandiose. Even more astounding are the reliefs in the Lachish room. One of the more interesting reliefs shows prisoners of war being brought before Sennacherib, who is sat on a throne and sentences some of them to death. Interestingly, the relief is almost intact and spans across an entire wall, but the king's face was deliberately defaced, probably after the end of his reign, when Nineveh fell in 612 BCE.
Now I need to visit the site at Nineveh, where apparently the Iraqi department of Antiquities did a fabulous job of preserving the excavated remains of Sennacherib's palace.
It's been a while since I posted... And I'm afraid this is not going to be a "proper" post.
Here's an amusing link I got from a friend: sushi. Enjoy.
Posts
All Comments
