I propose we move the temples – both of them – just so they are a few yards apart. Because otherwise, I predict a holy war. I shall elaborate shortly.
A holy war does not only mean a war between the Muslims and the Jews. It also means a war among the Jews ourselves. We have somehow to get together on all this if we are to survive.
The hairdresser was incredibly busy today – and the little he had to do with me took all afternoon as he balanced one head off the other. So I kept quiet as he worked on me. Finally, he said, “Ah, you’re mourning today. And Bibi – he’s planning his revenge – dancing on your head! He made it and he’s king now.” “Champagne baths!” I responded. “Not for you guys! You’re finished.”
for a few hours, we will be happy this evening. We’ve made a ballot box for the family this evening, and we’ll have our count at 8. The left will win and we’ll celebrate.
After that, who knows.
It’s pretty clear that – as Ehud Manor wrote years ago – we have no other country. Antisemitism seems to be growing like a fungus.
The past few days have been dotted with phone calls from political parties. I wouldn’t trust anything a politician says in a recorded message. And everything looks like a tactic – nothing seems true or possible. This is true for the rest of the world as well. The only person I believe is Zelensky. My grandson also introduced me to the likes of Hadar Muchtar, who is too young to be in the knesset, but has a believable platform – even though it isn’t practical. Check her out.
My friend grew up in Jerusalem, and he took piano lessons 3 times a week. Usually he would take busses, but in October, by the time his Friday lesson would be finished, the busses had stopped running for the Sabbath and he would have to walk home.
The closest route was through the cemetery at Sanhedria, and he stood long at the gate as it became dusk and wondered what to do. Then he entered, and was grateful to see an elderly man walking the same path. “Why don’t we walk together?” the man said, and they began to chat as they strolled. The boy told him of his piano lessons, of his coming bar mitzvah, and the time passed quickly.
As they were nearing the exit gate, the old man said, “You were very brave to walk through here at this time of day. You must have been frightened.”
One of my best friends, who is facing a very dangerous operation, claims that the elections this Tuesday will bring good news. She also thinks that the Russians escaping the draft are going to move here and expand and improve our economy. I’ve decided I’m not going to talk to anyone else before Tuesday so I can keep up that optimistic feeling.
Among the people we were with last night, were those who were not only concerned with politics but were actually running for office. They were people who believed that the way can still be found, despite the extremism. They were all left, and would have discussed the possibilities at length, but were stopped by the declaration of the hostess that since the problem is Zionism itself, there is no way to solve the situation. There were no compromises in her vision, and yet, the others, had they been allowed to speak, hinted at the possibilities of compromise.
We were in Jaffa, where even laws of traffic seem to be suggestions, and driving home we encountered the youth who were out celebrating the weekend, driving recklessly, sitting on the sidewalks wuth hookas in a smoking bar, next to a different population in a bar, with teams of girls wearing half of what girls in Tokyo wear on the streets. Something like a scene of post chaos.