MY URBAN KVETCH

Tish'ah B'Av in Jerusalem: Lines, Divisions and Connections

 It is Tish'ah B'Av, a national day of Jewish mourning held in memory of the destruction of Jerusalem. I sit in Jerusalem, in my apartment that for the last two months or so has been known as Beit ROI, where young Jewish innovators from locations ranging from Miami to Brooklyn, from Amsterdam to London have filled the rooms with laughter and energy. We have hosted joyous conversations here over Shabbat dinners - religious and secular, with additional geographical representation from Denmark, Los Angeles, Washington, DC...There is a distinct disconnect. 

Last night I sat on the steps near the Cinematheque and listened to a panel of Jerusalemites speak in Hebrew about the City's divisions and potential hopes for unity. Although thrilled by my ability to grasp most of the conversation, what I understood doesn't inspire great optimism - the lines are clearly drawn and yet utterly murky; there is defensiveness and chasms of misunderstanding that prevent unity and peace.

Then I pushed my way into the Old City, making my way toward the Kotel plaza, as people shoved me from behind and glared at me. Heading down toward the Kotel, I saw that the women's side - never as large as the men's side on a good day - was teeming with girls, women, babies in strollers, older ladies begging for money, all united in an act of pushing, shoving silently and sometimes non-silently, again with the glaring as people strode toward the ancient stones, hoping to get as close as they could to the Temple that once was, the place closest to God and to the core of Jewish identity. 

By the time I get there, there are no Americans anywhere - it's like English has been digitally removed, and I'm just visiting in an utterly Israeli experience. In the throng of thousands, I am the only one saying "slicha," hoping a "pardon me" will help others who are pushing me to clear a path, allow me access to their holy site and to our shared identity. I never made it to the wall, instead hovering above barefoot girls about ten years my junior, who sit cross-legged and wail soundlessly at the destruction of ages past. I do not connect to them, although I feel a sadness in this place for many reasons.

Israel: Start With Funny, Then Add Comedians

The half bathroom in my apartment in Jerusalem is your basic W.C.: there's a toilet, and a door, and a window that opens onto one of two balconies. But there's also something else there: a faucet, about mid-calf length from the floor, for no apparent reason. And - until I fixed it a few days through brute bicep strength - it dripped. Not enough to cause a flood, or even notice for the first few days: but after I put a receptacle under it, I can tell you that it collects one honey jar of water every 1.5 to 2 days. 

I'm telling you this for two reasons: first, to show you that Israel is quirky, and second, to recommend that if you ever visit this W.C., and the faucet is dripping, be careful not to knock over the jar.

But back to that first reason...on the cab ride back from the airport, I saw a driver literally drive from the congested road, over to the sidewalk, onto the sidewalk, and then continue driving on the sidewalk for a full block. I asked the driver in Hebrew, "Is that legal?" And he said, "It shouldn't be legal, in this religious neighborhood, but they walk around like that anyway." Puzzled, I looked out the window and saw what he saw: women in tank tops.

Americans and Israelis (and I include in that term people who have made aliyah and cast their lot with the citizens of Israel) see things with different eyes. And although I am not an Israeli citizen, I have made enough trips here, and speak the language well enough, to see through both perspectives. I know that "icecafe" is not the same as "ice coffee," that the so-called first floor of a building is usually on the actual second or third floor of that building. And I have since learned that the faucet is there so you can "do sponga," which is pushing a rag around the floor on a squeegee - the Israeli approximation of mopping. I love these little differences, as do many of the American observers who visit or live here. We know that in Israel, you start with comedy, even before you add comedians.

As observers of human interaction and the world around them, comedians who come to Israel find it to be a richly hilarious experience. With his regular comedy missions to Israel featuring top Hollywood comics, comedian Avi Liberman (whose birthday is actually today) is providing his funny friends with fresh material while raising funds for the Koby Mandell Foundation, which helps victims of terror.