From Jerusalem with Love

White Lies

People here are very excited by an inch or two of snow that fell in Jerusalem yesterday afternoon. This is truly a national event, placed before all other issues in media reports. Snow only comes to Jerusalem once every year or two, and with it comes both a blessing and a curse, or two blessings depending on your priorities.

Snow means that people are no longer able to drive like bats out of hell. They must control themselves – or, more accurately, their vehicles – in a rather uncharacteristic manner. About 400-500 Israelis are killed in road accidents each year – more than in even the worst years of terror attacks. These deaths are in no small part caused by the Israeli driver’s overload of aggression, and the need to not be considered a fryer (sucker, loosely translated) on the road.

Snow means people must slow down. This translates into the city bus company having to cease services very soon after any amount of snow falls. One inch is worse than a New England foot, because a New England foot of snow at least provides some wheel traction. People freak out when snow comes. I was unable to make cellular phone calls for several hours because of all the snow chatter. The only other time this happens is after a suicide bombing.

Which brings me to the flip-side of the historical one inch of snow that fell on the Holy City yesterday. My Hebrew teacher Rivka noted how the snow covers up the filth of Jerusalem. Compared to many major American (and European) cities, Jerusalem is strewn with litter and general soot. Snow covers this up and makes everything white. Another Jewish Israeli was heard to say, “The snow is so pretty! You can pretend there’s no Arabs down there in the village covered with snow.”

In general lots of people have taken photos of what in most countries is a regular winter/spring occurrence (my photo of Hebrew University is above). Something about snow in the Holy Land is out of place. Didn’t Moses cross an unforgiving desert before coming into Israel? What about all the camels and palm trees and year-round beaches? How can there be snow in a Mediterranean country that is 60% desert?

Thousands of Israelis have driven up the mountains to Jerusalem to see snow, something they can never see in sea-level Tel Aviv just half an hour west. Perhaps snow allows people to think they are in another, saner, portion of the globe, such as the Netherlands or Greenland or Vermont. Or maybe it’s the prospect of throwing snowballs at each other.

Seen and Heard

Walking home an hour ago in the dark of night, I passed a black man in civilian clothes with an M-16 strapped across his back. It took less than a second to label him an Ethiopian Jew. I have always been fond of the Ethiopian Jewish population here, and did not call the police like most middle Americans would after seeing heavily armed black men on their street. The Ethiopian Jews represent the double-edged sword of the Zionist project: great that they were lifted out of poverty and persecution by the Israeli army in a series of daring operations and brought to Israel; not so great that mainstream Israeli society alternately ignores, resents and condescends to them. Speaking of black Jews and dual minority status…

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Last week, two of my professors had Gay Week. Really. In both Multiple Voices of Israel and Consumerism, Media and Culture, professors focused on GLBT issues here. I gave presentations in both classes, including an overview of the Jerusalem Open House for Pride and Tolerance, for which I volunteered to research and write an extended annual report. In interviewing all kinds of people for the report, I discovered the “multiple voices” of this decade-old nonprofit (from Orthodykes to gay Palestinians) and how the Open House has built a big enough tent for everyone to be heard. This is no mean feat is city whose municipal and religious leaders have done everything in their power to destroy the Open House, incite against gays and in general break lots of mitzvot they claim to be protecting.

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Went to midnight mass at St. Andrew’s Scottish Church in Jerusalem. It was not as good as ones I've been to in Italy and even Maine. But there was Christmas cheer, no bag searches (!) and I even saw some VIP Jews inside the church – a famous Jewish demographer and former Boston rabbi. There were probably more Jews inside the church than any other religion, most of them from the Red, White and Blue.

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I found an exciting rooftop at my university this evening. Basically it is a high point on an already-high mountain and for the first time I looked west into the city and east to the Dead Sea from the same point. This is why the Hebrew University mountain is called Mt. of the Views (Har HaTsofim). The views reminded me how strategic land remains to modern warfare, despite all the technology. Yes, Israel must evacuate the mountainous “West Bank” immediately – end the occupation! – so all kinds of genocidal Islamists can fire rockets toward my apartment, just like they do from Gaza every day.

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Going to write a story for Heeb magazine about the Hand in Hand schools, where Jewish and Arab elementary students learn together. Each of the three schools has a Jewish and an Arab principal, and students are taught in Hebrew and Arabic about each other's cultures. Heeb chooses a theme for each issue, i.e. Love, Money or – for this issue – Kids. I pitched them several kid-related ideas, including the effects of five years of rocket attacks on the kids in Sderot and Israeli high school seniors entering the army. Of course I knew once I put down the Hand in Hand idea that other pitches were futile. People love co-existence, except for…

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A monstrosity of a young woman in my Multiple Voices class whose comments the other day gave me a headache. This blonde-haired Jewish girl from the US said: “Are Jewish lives really worth so much? The wall and the checkpoints make life miserable for Palestinians. All so a few Jews will not get blown up on a bus. It makes me want to die in a suicide attack to prove the point Jewish lives are not worth more than Palestinian lives.” Unfortunately for my headaches, this twit is actually representative of a large cross-section of students at Rothberg High, blind to reality and just plain dangerous.

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Exactly seven years ago this week I came to Israel for the first time with a birthright tour from Boston University Hillel. During the trip we visited Jericho in the West Bank to learn about the acclaimed Oslo peace process from negotiators on both sides. Since that visit, Oslo has gone up in smoke, thousands of Israelis and Palestinians have been killed, and there is no way on G-d’s blue Earth I would go to Jericho again. Still, I believe a 180-degree turn is possible within – say – another seven years, if only the alleged “international community” wakes up to fight the war declared on the West. Right now, Hitler is marching east. We'll let him have a few of those Slavic countries since war is so messy, and who cares about those people anyway?

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Happy New Year!

From the Mouth of Abbas

Today I read the most sensible few sentences to fall out of a Middle Eastern leader's mouth in many months. They were spoken by Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas and quickly condemned by Hamas, against whose ongoing terror attacks they were spoken:

"Gaza is free of occupation, but there are no investors and no prosperity," Abbas said. "We dreamed that [Gaza] would prosper and dozens of investors from all over the world came to Gaza. Nothing has come to fruition. We decided it was better to fire rockets. Israel left, said goodbye, and instead of [Gaza] remaining calm and flourishing, there are those that still prefer to fire rockets."

The words of Abbas relate not only to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, but the entire non-war on Islamic terror in general. This war's antagonists are funded, supplied and inspired by the governments of Syria, Iran, the Palestinian Authority and a handful of others. Though the people blowing up buses and aiming rockets at civilian centers may not sit in parliamentary seats themselves, their directors run several Middle Eastern governments.

When Middle Eastern leaders put the children in their societies ahead of the quest to destroy Israel and bring the West to its knees, the war on Islamic terror will be over. Children in all societies deserve options other than a life of poverty or death as a suicide bomber. The children of Lebanon, Iran and Palestine should have as hopeful a future as those of England and Canada.

Since the patrons of terrorism are unlikely to do a 180-degree turn in the foreseeable future, the only solution is to fight them with all economic, political and military might available. We must not allow a botched American operation in Iraq and international complacency to numb our sense of reality. The survival of Western civilization and millions of lives rest on actions taken today.

The West has become quick to forgive those who murder civilians, and even quicker to condemn nations that fight terror with all humane means at their disposal. Until these erroneous judgments are reversed, individuals like Abbas will be unable to help their exploited people and decaying societies.

Unfortunately, top media outlets including the Associated Press, Reuters and CNN neglected to report the Palestinian president's comments about Hamas attacks being the source of instability in the region. Apparently, the Western media prefers to ignore the truth, even when spoken by Arab leaders themselves. Demonizing the Israeli "occupation" is more popular (and apparently more satisfying) than correctly diagnosing the cancer of Islamist extremism that fuels atrocities from Darfur to Bali.

For the sake of Muslim children and children everywhere, it's time to recognize obvious threats and eliminate them.

Republished on Ynetnews

(Photo of Mahmoud Abbas from jpost.com)

Batting Average

The other day I apologized to my journal for being a deadbeat diarist. In writing the apology, I recognized keeping the journal since 1992, which means those 50 or so notebooks represent half my life.

Like a lover abroad, I promised to write more, especially during boring lectures. Just how many trees, pyramids and muffins can I doodle between now and the end of school, anyway?

Actually, I must admit, this blog is something of a journal. It’s true I try to make “From Jerusalem with Love” more polished, publishable and perky than I do my personal journal; however, these sixteen months of blog entries have some journal-like characteristics.

Within these hyperlinks are dreams, visions, disappointments, and a bit of scandal here and there. Looking at the past several months, the search for “the project” seems to have taken center-stage.

Unreported thus far, my Israeli reality TV dreams were shattered several weeks ago. You might recall my mentioning in June I had auditioned and been chosen for Underblog, a new show in which contestants filmed a series of two-minute video "blogs." Viewers would vote who gets to stay.

I was given a fancy video camera and filmed 15 segments in Hebrew (feat!), most of them self-deprecating and slightly offensive. The producers liked the segments, and in July, the first week of the show aired (just as I handed in my tape).

That same week, those Hizbullah poons fired a few hundred rockets into northern Israel, and people stopped watching reality TV. Sponsors pulled out of Underblog faster than a teenage boy trying not to get his girlfriend pregnant. The show was "postponed." Yes, things really are that touch and go here.

Upon returning from the US in October, I called the producer and was informed of Underblog's permanent cancellation. No longer could I count on the show to bring me closer to American reality TV fame. My 15 segments will never see the light of day, much less a television screen. There went one project.

In October, I produced the 2007 Penguin Panorama Calendar – a product of Matt Lebovic Living – convinced I could ride on Martha Stewart’s coattails of good taste and bad manners. Instead, not a single reader commented on the delightful 12-month spread of off-color penguin scenes.

In a subsequent entry, I called response to the Calendar “overwhelming.” Only I knew that by “overwhelming,” I meant the shock of rejection. This blog gets 400-500 visitors a week, and not one of them commented about the shitty penguins.

Soon after the Calendar, I envisioned a book of personal essays. In typical fashion, I insisted on making a title before anything else. “White Man/Gay Jew: On Identity, Politics and Holiness.” I even drew a mock book cover, including a photo of me at the Western Wall waving American, Israeli and rainbow flags (above). I brainstormed essays.

Following a week of New Idea Elation, I trotted naively to my first creative writing tutorial session. There, my grandiose dreams were again smashed like so many pumpkins. Reaction was mild, and tinged with resentment that I write more like “Chicken Soup for the Soul” than Virginia Woolf.

The essay book concept lies abandoned, and I’ve switched to poetry for the tutorial. Poetry is harder to criticize than prose. Just let your mental illness(es) rise to the surface, ignore grammar, and mention Death.

Shortly after 4:20 today, I took a walk to the Talpiyot promenade. A stunning vista of the Old City and surrounding hills draws busloads of tourists every day. I found an isolated rock to sit on and wrote this ditty:

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Here

Seven Hills, Six Days,

They say it started Here.

If Death is Holy,

This Place is God,

Soaked with Blood and Tears.

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Stand, kneel, sit to Pray,

A billion faces, face Here.

Buses explode,

Dreams implode,

Meet the Seven Species of Fear.

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Dumpsters ablaze, thick Wall raised,

Children study Hate Here.

Martyrs’ Square,

That’s my bag there,

The Six Million we hold Dear.

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Wrappers, cans, old phone cards too,

Smother hills and streams Here.

No skin, no pigs,

No Mortal Sins,

No Mercy for the Queer.

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David built, Jesus walked,

Crusaders fought to be Here.

End of Days,

The World waits,

For who it’s not so Clear.

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(Please no feedback.)

Beyond books and calendars, I’ve envisioned projects to promote Israeli tourism, increase volunteerism and just plain get me cash. The getting cash one has moved to the top of list since an historic meeting I held yesterday in Tel Aviv with my new business partner.

This time I will not bare my soul and reveal details, similar to expectant parents withholding the baby’s gender. Let’s just say something’s cooking, and it might not taste burnt.

Projects and dreams, dating and striving - they're all like a baseball batting average. How many times does a Major League Baseball player go to bat before hitting his first grand-slam? Quite a few times, I think. There are probably lots of strike-out's, foul balls and stuff like that along the way. Not going to bat at all means no set-backs, but also no grand-slam.

Nicknames

Sometimes I get tired of writing entries about jihad, faith and civil unrest. Today, let’s reveal some of the nicknames given to students at my school by myself and other meanies. For the most part, these names are never said to their owners’ faces; nor do any of the characters below read this blog. Rest assured that no one’s feelings are getting hurt, such as mine did every day when the little children would call me Jolly Green Giant, Pee Wee Herman, and – along with my brother – The Twin Towers.

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Unabomber – Boasting a thick, untrimmed beard and ultra-conservative point of view, Unabomber actually became my friend after several months of fear. Last month, he invited me for a midnight stroll in an Orthodox neighborhood where men were rioting leading up to the Pride event. Unabomber had been every night that week, taking delight in the show of police on horseback chasing errant yeshiva boys down alleys. Unabomber has more than lived up to his nickname, expressing deep contempt for Left-wingers and establishment people at every turn. Sometime soon, I will join him for all-you-can-eat-sushi at the Kind David Citadel, which he attends every week.

Anne Frank – This is newly minted nickname for a rather annoying girl who bears a striking resemblance to the Nazis’ most famous victim (pictured above). Anne Frank sits in Hebrew class constantly calling out answers, so much so that the teachers regularly ask her to be quiet so other students can learn. She also leaves class several times each session, returning with a cup of tea and smile on her face. Perhaps she’s been up to the loft for a quick kiss with Peter, her secret attic boyfriend? Last week in class, Anne Frank would not simmer down during discussion of a reading we did on Poland, anti-Semitism and the Holocaust, contradicting the teacher at every turn. Anne Frank. Best nickname ever.

Nemesis – Nemesis is a true demon. One of the most condescending and arrogant people you will ever meet, this jerk was told by a popular professor last year to leave class and never come back. Why? Nemesis would spend the class reading the newspaper, occasionally calling out to contradict the teacher. When the teacher replied, Nemesis would again lift up his newspaper, feeling no need to dialogue with a common university lecturer. Disturbingly, Nemesis pops up everywhere, especially at the start of each semester, when he samples many classes and urges professors to alter syllabi to meet his learning needs. I don’t want to stoop so low as to make fun of Nemesis’ physical appearance, but try to picture the offspring of an oompa loompa mated with a gremlin.

Asian Schoolgirl Fantasy – Though I have been in classes with her for three semesters, I can’t remember ever hearing Asian Schoolgirl Fantasy volunteer to say anything. She does, however, enter the room exactly five minutes late, every time, without failure. Typically, she is dressed in a short plaid skirt and knee-high black leather boots, drawing the lustful gaze of most breeder men – or at least those not seated with a spouse or serious girlfriend. Personally, I admire Asian Schoolgirl Fantasy tremendously – for allegedly knowing several languages, for making no apologies, and for being the topic of whispered conversation throughout the school.

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That’s all for now, but if I get positive feedback, we’ll do another round.