I started by driving all the way to Haifa for the Festival of Festivals, a four-weekend long celebration of Christianity-Judaism-Islam festivities, just to find disappointment in the form of an overcrowded food market where people tried to steal pieces of halva from each other and to swim across at the sound of bombastic techno music. I then turned to Jaffa, where the main signs of Christmas were shops selling Santa’s beards and red felt hats to cater to the Christian Arab Israelis (yes, there are – many), the Russian immigrants and a growing community of Filippino workers; I bought a beard, a hat and some decorations for the house, but I did not feel any closer to the spirit of Christmas I was longing for. In Jaffa I also stumbled upon a Hindi spoken Christmas gathering of the Indian Christian community, where I marveled at the elegant sarees of the women but also did not find much I could connect to.

With growing disappointment, I resorted to making my own Christmas alive. I dusted off the Christmas tree, prepared a special playlist of Christmas carols and set off for the ritual decorating. But I was alone, with a Jewish boyfriend occupied with lighting Hanukkah candles and a wicked cat already plotting how to dismantle my creation as soon as I would turn my back on it. The truth is I missed people, someone sharing my own enthusiasm. Therefore I was very happy when a Canadian friend invited me over for a Christmas party, where we tried to recreate some  Christmas Eve atmosphere for the benefit of other displaced immigrants and of some open-minded Jewish friends who wanted to see what this Christmas was all about. The result was a very enjoyable evening but not much alike any Christmas I store in memory (someone even brought fake snow in a can, out of which we tried to have a snowballs fight and to build a snowman with modest results).

Unable to find a satisfactory Christmas atmosphere in Israel (a mix of nostalgia, utopia and longing for the non-existent), I decided to go directly to the source, and to cross over to Bethlehem, the small city in the Palestinian territories where it all began. I went alone, because my friends are either Israelis unable to legally enter a designated area C in the West Bank, or busy people with busy jobs that won’t give them a break on December 25th  just because the rest of the World is at home celebrating this semi-pagan festivity.

O come all ye Faithful

So off I went: bus to Jerusalem (1 hour), then bus to Damascus gate in the Arab quarter (30 mins wait plus 20 mins ride), Arab minivan to the checkpoint (about 20 mins), 30 mins at the checkpoint  looking for an Israeli border officer who was not be asleep (I suspect they did double shifts to regulate the increased influx during the night of Christmas), then walking through a series of mechanical swirling gates, then looking for the exit in all the wrong places until being rescued by an American photographer on his way out. 5 minutes wandering at the height and ugliness of the separation wall, 10 mins arguing with Palestinian taxi drivers who tried to screw me over the price (they started with 100 shekels, settled down for 20, real price is probably 3), 20 mins stationed in the designated cab who promptly deviated from the main road to try to convince me to A: visit Hebron (some 70 km away) B: tour all of the Christian sites with him and C: visit his friend shop who had the best prices in town. I finally arrived at Manger square, 3 hours and 15 mins after I left my apartment in Tel Aviv. It was pouring rain.

The rain continued merciless all through the day and part of the evening. I did not find much to do in the city. The few events scheduled for Christmas got canceled because of the weather. The imposing Peace Center on the main square was closed. The Nativity Church, the biggest pilgrims drawing site in Bethlehem, was surprisingly quiet, with no mass or group prayer. Tourists from many countries were wandering around the several rooms and grottos of the complex, but very few displayed an overt intent to pray. People were mostly busy photographing every corner and every stone around, with or without their persona next to it, ignoring the supposedly sanctity of the place. The marble stone at the heart of the basilica, where baby Jesus is believed to have come to the world, was enjoying the same destiny, guarded by a cordon of Franciscan monks who urged the line of visitors not to stop, not to touch anything, but interestingly allowing pictures, turning the experience into something quite grotesque: walk by, click and go. Some nuns walked around yawning, showing signs of tiredness from the previous night of celebration. I watched this carousel for about one hour, then I left.

The streets of the old city where mainly empty, due to the horrible weather. Shops were mostly closed and tourists started to make their way back into Jerusalem, or huddled together in the few open bars on the square to get away from the rain. Walking around with my umbrella, I somehow manage to strike a conversations with some locals – all men – but the thing died out pretty quickly with the scenario going as follow: (Palestinian) where you are form – (me) Italy – (Palestinian) welcome welcome – (me)  thank you -(Palestinian) I have some cousin working in Milano – (me) nice – (Palestinian) maybe can you give me Visa to Italy – (me) what – (Palestinian) yes, you help me go to Italy – (me, trying to change the subject) do you happen to know where is the Shepherd’s field [a Christian site]? – (Palestinian) oh very far and today maybe closed… so you can give me Visa? – (me, struggling) but isn’t there a tourist information center in Bethlehem? – (Palestinian, chuckling) oh no sorry Madame.

I had heard from a friend that there would be a Concert for Peace at 7 pm. I put all my remaining hopes to find some Christmas spirit in this event, and all my remaining resourcefulness in trying to find out where it was. No one – tourist or Palestinian – seemed to have heard about neither the concert, nor the convention center where it was supposed to take place. I phone called the number I had printed out from the internet. asking for directions which were given to me in surprisingly good English, and even found a taxi driver willing to take me there, but I did not want to go alone as it was already dark. So I kidnapped an Italian and a Swedish visitor from the Youth Hostel and convinced them to come with me.  We drove for a long time in the pitch dark , until the taxi driver ominously said: “This, end of Bethlehem. After: Hebron“, at which point we had no idea how to react. Then we saw that out of the darkness on the left glowed a huge building on top of a hill with some flashy decorations on it. A massive, impressive construction with no connection to the rest of the city: The Convention Palace of Bethlehem!

We approached the lobby realizing at every step closer that this was not going to be some kind of hippish event with a local band put together by Swiss activists, but rather a formal gala with elegantly dressed people, a number of waiters and servants running around in black suites, receptionists, flower arrangements, security people, and this incredible production crew directly from the USA. I was quite in shock for the striking contrast between the general humbleness of the people and places of Bethlehem and this incredibly posh place with wealthy individuals enjoying “a concert for humanity” in a place that most of the locals will never be able to set foot inside. Back home, I was able to read more about the project, which is in his nature both ambitious and beautiful: to change people awareness through inspirational music. Quoting from the project’s website:

A Global Musical Prayer for Peace from the heart of the world’s three monotheistic religions. Project-Peace On Earth is a digitally distributed global Musical Prayer for Peace that enables the world’s most spiritually inspired and famed musicians to perform from comfort of their home, a personal or historic sacred site, while on tour or during a concert or from the central host concert stage of Manger Square, Bethlehem, and plug into a unified global broadcast for peace[...] Project-Peace on Earth, LLC is a Los Angeles-based organization promoting what will be a worldwide telecast concert of superstar musicians performing inspiring and sacred music from the some of the most mystical sites on the planet including from the host venue, Manger Square Bethlehem in Palestine.

We therefore saw artists who had been flown from all over the world to perform music which was recorded and broadcast in stream (you can see the whole concert on the website, about 1,5 hour), alternated with some specially created footage with reflections on the world, peace and inner peace. All very nice and well-intentioned, but those who know me can see why I could not adhere with my heart, and those who don’t can try to imagine why by watching the video online. Apart from calling Enigma “one of the biggest rock bands of all times”, there were more serious issues which left me perplexed. After the concert, there was a nice buffet dinner for everybody, then the artists were bussed out to Jerusalem, to sleep in a good hotel outside of the Palestinian Territories. In which way did this super expensive production benefit the local community, is an open question. As for the Convention Palace, I have found that it is a joint investment between Consolidated Contractors Company “CCC” and Palestine Investment Fund “PIF”, at the cost of 26 million US dollars. Previous question applies.

So there it went, my-looking-for-Christmas-spirit day was coming to an end. Back in Jerusalem I had to wait half an hour in the back of a sherut taxi full of Haredi men, in an involuntary simulation of the segregation that is really taking places on some buses in this (democratic) country – pious men in the front, impure woman at the back. I had time to think about what I had been through. I thought about how it is really more about people than places. I thought there no matter where you go, there can hardly be a real Christmas without your family caging you in the house of your childhood for two consecutive days of overeating, table games, mismatched presents, the unavoidable trip to a frozen church for the midnight mass, and all the joys and sorrow that being with your own kin brings about.

When I finally arrived in Tel Aviv Central Station, I flagged down a taxi. It was about 1 am. The smart driver looked at me, looked at some building behind me and asked me: Eich haya hamoadon, motek? (How was the party, sweetheart). I considered telling him all about my day, Bethlehem and the Palestinians begging me for a Visa, the unchained pilgrims turned photo obsessed, and the oddity of it all, but then I shrugged and just said “sababa” (ok).

This is Tel Aviv, after all.

Sitting and aching on my plastic chair, 5 miles away from the scene, I really felt like “the” Mr. Jones of his famous song, The ballad of a thin man. Because something was happening there, but I have no idea what it was, or even where it was, since I couldn’t see anything. Although half of the tickets remained unsold, the producers preferred to keep the gig in the same dispersive stadium at Ramat Gan, so that between me and the hypothetical scene there laid half a football field of wasted emptiness. The only efforts made to try and breach distances was the courtesy of four flat screens which only replicated the same distant perspective of the scene, and anyway stopped broadcasting all together during the second part of the show (no explanation as of why). Basically three-quarters of the crowd had no visual clue whatsoever where Bob Dylan was standing on the scene, what he was doing, which instrument did he play. To make things more painful, Mr. Dylan managed to go through the whole set without uttering a single word. Quite impressive. Not just no hello and no goodbyes, no thank you and no personal comment on anything whatsoever, but he even had the nerve not to introduce his band at the end of the show, so that the musicians went out as anonymously as they came in.

We all know that Dylan is not a champion of politeness, nor a great improviser.  The expectations were low, so low that 20.000 people preferred to stay home and save money for the upcoming concert of Paul Simon. Did it really make sense for the mythical singer to come all the way to Israel, which happens to be also the land of his forefathers, just to replicate the exact same show he did in Hong Kong, just with a worse production? Yet something inside of me love the man. Fans would give him credit for anything, as in one of those doomed love story where the lady can do whatever she wants and we’ll still be rolling our tongues out after her. Or not? Honestly people seemed really bored during the show, preferring to hover around the bar (which was conveniently placed in front of the rows, taking away the slightest possibility of a decent view), or to loudly talk to each other. I also saw a lot of tensed faces, sporting that special look people have when they are trying to decide if they have been screwed, and how deeply. It is still too early to read critics in English, but I am sure that disappointment is a word that will surface, if not anger.

Musically speaking, since it was a concert after all, I can say that I had a hard time recognizing which song was being played, because the band held out a 1,5 hour set seemingly playing the same Motown tune. It all came out like – I am trying to put my hands on it -  a New Orleans funeral march? A cover band in rehearsal? And that includes the untouchable hits – All along the watchtower, Tangled up in blue, Times they are a-changing... each song sounding amazing like the previous one: as flattened out as a pancake. Lyrics that have the potential to tear your heart out, went flushed down in a happy-crappy blues arrangement. As of Dylan’s voice, it was much better than I expected, with a pleasant earthy tone. Nevertheless, there was no peak in the concert, no great excitement nor any particularly emotional twist, if you exclude the predictable singing along during Like a rolling stone, where the anesthetized public seemingly came alive for a moment.

So yes, I did like the idea of seeing Dylan playing live in his lifetime, and I still do, maybe because I feel I actually haven’t. The respect I have for his work and for his lyrics was not enough to make me blind to the fact that his Israeli show was as boring and unfortunate as a show can be.

I did see a shooting star, which was about the nicest thing of the whole evening.

ps. I haven’t said a word about the warm up gigs of Ricky Lee Jones and Asaf Avidan because they had conveniently finished by the way I made it through the security check at 8.40 pm (although the ticket printed time of the show said 8.30, another production flaw)

* NEW *

I am now embedding a video I shot during the climax of the concert, where you won’t be able to see a thing, just as we did. It did accidentally record for posterity the magic moment when the screens went black:

SETLIST:

1. Gonna Change My Way Of Thinking
2. It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue
3. Things Have Changed
4. Tangled Up In Blue
5. Summer Days
6. Simple Twist Of Fate
7. Cold Irons Bound
8. A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall
9. Highway 61 Revisited
10. Forgetful Heart
11. Thunder On The Mountain
12. Ballad Of A Thin Man
13. Like A Rolling Stone
14. All Along The Watchtower
15. Blowin’ In The Wind

He was the son of a Jewish mother ans a Christian Arab father. Born in Nazareth, he served in the Israeli army. Later on, he grew increasingly resentful of the Israeli occupation and became overtly pro-Palestinian. He then turned to art therapy, founding a drama group in the West Bank city of Jenin. Eventually, with the collaboration of Palestinian and foreign help, he was able to open the “Freedom Theater”, which is also the place where he was murdered yesterday (www.thefreedomtheater.org).

Although his murderers are still unidentified, it is known that his work, provocative and unconventional, generated discontent among certain members of the local Islamic community. In fact, the place was set on fire on 2009 and Juliano received several death threats for his subversive activities, as the simple fact of bringing together boys and girls, a highly discouraged practice in the light of Islamic moral codes. He was also very much criticized for staging a play where children played the role of pigs (from the novel “Animal Farm”).

It is interesting that Juliano drew inspiration for his theatrical work from his mother, Arna. She was a political activist and she chose theater as a means of cultural combat: in 1987 she established a children theater in the same refugee camp. Her and Juliano’s work is documented in the documentary “Arna’s Children”, a very moving portrait of the harsh reality of the camp.

Here is an interesting interview:

http://www.explore.org/interviews/juliano-mer-khamis/

You can watch this and other videos where Juliano speaks about the Freedom Theater on Youtube:

Today I received the following two-lines e-mail:

“A causa dei missili grad a Beer Sheva, l’apertura dell’angolo italiano è rimandata a data da destinarsi”

Which translates:

“Due to grad missiles in Beer Sheva, the opening of the Italian corner has been postponed to a date to be announced“

I had not picked up the paper yet, that reality slammed me in the intimate form of an email. Reality being: there are missiles falling on this country, one hour south of Tel Aviv. Actually, the country has been hit by more than 50 rockets over the weekend, while we somehow enjoyed the carnevalesque atmosphere of Purim. There have not been reports of casualties, but a number of people were treated for shock, and property was destroyed. Islamic movements have claimed responsibility for all the attacks. The escalation of violence between the Gaza strip and Israel, the most serious since Israel’s widely criticized operation in  December 2008 and January 2009, is likely to lead to a “Cast Lead 2″ scenario.

As much as I abhor the thought of another military operation, I must ask this question: what should be the reaction of a sovereign state being hit by missiles? This is a hard question. One which the critics of Israel do not consider very often. One which my pacific European mind does not like to consider at all. Friends ask me why do I not pack up and return to Italy. They look at me as if saying: if you have a choice, run.

Retaliation is Israel’s preferred answer to terror attacks. Therefore the perpetual cycle of violence, whose equation is terror attack = air strike = more killings = more terror = more air strike = more killings, just goes on and on. Using attack as a deterrent, Israel can not hope to bring peace, but rather continuous spilling of blood. Innocent people are killed on both sides on the conflict, and the cycle goes on. Cruel, almost mechanic. Just a week ago, five members of the same Jewish family were murdered in cold blood, while sleeping in their house, a hideous crime which shocked the whole country. Papers all over the world have refused to publish pictures of the victims (the youngest one was 3 months old), something that Israel had expressly asked to do, in its struggle to be heard, to find some justification in the eyes of the world. Afterwards, 8 Palestinians have been killed by IDF shells. And today we heard of a bombing in Jerusalem, which have brought back the city to levels of terror it had not witnessed since 2009.

I forgot, who started? Well, this is another core question, which entails more and more questions and j’accuse, since a simple, definitive answer cannot be found, and the narrative of the two sides is very different and just as legitimate. In face of the current events, the more crucial of all the questions would be the one focusing on the future: what could be a creative solution to end the conflict? If a two-states solution seems impossible, a one-state with universal human right seems Utopian, and no-state is a paradox, what is left besides the inevitability of a continuous war?

I started this blog asking myself if something a-political could ever be said and communicated about Israel. Here I am, one year into business, rambling on how to end the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. And wondering where, since every house is supposed to have one, is the bomb-shelter located in my building.

I think unconsciously I was waiting for some positive news to write about. I live in a country which attracts incredible negativity worldwide, so I try to counterbalance this by tuning in to uplifting stories.

This year I took a liking into surveys. I previously wrote about how Tel Aviv scored among the 10 best-rated beach cities in the world. I wrote about how the quality of life in Israel has been polled and ranked high, surprisingly close to countries like Italy and Spain. I wrote about how Israelis are ranked as being very happy people, taking the 8th place in the worldwide happiness chart.  This is all great news. So what is next?

The last global survey conducted for BBC and published two weeks ago, looked into the popularity of countries in the world. Here, Israel managed to score 4th from the bottom, which makes it one of the least popular countries in the eyes of the rest of the world. In terms of negativity, Israel is second only to Pakistan, North Korea and Iran. Compared to the previous year, when Israel was at the bottom of the chart, this should actually be my next good story. But it is not.

While researching a bit on this poll, I had a few interesting insights, which I want to share.

28,000 people across the world were interviewed between December 2010 and February 2011 by international polling firm GlobeScan. The exact question was: “Please tell me if you think each of the following countries is having a mainly positive or mainly negative influence in the world”. No matter the increasing positive trend Israel experiences (from 21% mostly negative to 19% mostly negative), it seems that Israel is still the champion of negativity, at least judging from the angle expressed in the headlines:

“Israel, Iran, Pakistan World’s Least Popular Nations” – IPS news

“Israel, world’s least popular country” – IRAN English radio website

IRAN English radio website, interestingly, goes as far as declaring “Israel, world’s least popular country”, not only distorting the results, but forgetting to mention that actually Iran itself won the title. I tried to correct the article by commenting on this detail, but my comment never made it through the security check. How I love free press.

Taking a closer look at the survey, we find that the countries which expressed the more positive attitude to Israel were the US (43% supported Israel), Russia (35%,) Ghana (32%) and India (21% ). While US support is stating the obvious, Russia may have a condescending look on Israel given the 1.5 million Russian people living there. As for India, it sees thousands of Israelis tourists every year, generating a significant income. The only mystery for me is the wide positivity expressed by Ghana, the root of which may be found in some obscure reason related to football, of which I know nothing about (help me clarify if you can).

The countries  expressing more negativity towards Israel were Egypt (87%), Spain (71%), Turkey (70%), Australia (67%), and Germany (65%). Actually, the most popular country in the world, according to this survey, is indeed Germany. Germany is portrayed as being the country which has the most positive influence on the world as of 2011. Interesting that the country which was voted more favorably, showed up as one of the countries whose population most dislikes (I do not want to write hate) Israel. Does that mean anything?

I often feel a bit schizophrenic living as an Italian (one of the most sympathy-inspiring nationalities) in Israel (one of the less sympathy-inspiring nationalities). To cheer up a bit, I resorted to my Italian pride and began wondering how well had Italy scored. So I took a close look at the 17 countries considered for evaluation, and realized Italy was not among them. How can this survey be representative of the world countries’ influence? If a reader only refers to the headlines generated by this survey, he will clearly get the impression that Germany is a better place than, say, Italy. One can see how easy is to come up with sensational headlines with a very restrictive and biased survey. If you still believe that statistics are not open to manipulation, keep reading.

Germany, the country which was awarded more positive reviews,  was also part of the 27 countries which were given a voice in the survey, while Israel was not. I am not an expert, but does not this pollutes the results? Is it statistically correct? The more I looked at this survey, the less I liked it. So I took the time to cross-check the list of the 27 countries were the survey was conducted:

Australia, Brazil, Canada, Chile, China, Egypt, France, Germany, Ghana, India, Indonesia, Italy, Japan, Kenya, Mexico, Nigeria, Pakistan, Peru, Philippines, Portugal, Russia, South Africa, South Korea, Spain, Turkey, UK, US

… with the list of the 17 countries on which an opinion was requested:

Germany, UK, Canada, EU, Japan, France, Brazil, US, China, South Africa, India, South Korea, Russia, Israel, Pakistan, North Korea, Iran

Unless otherwise stated, I am assuming the questionnaire was identical in all the countries. So here is my amazing finding:

Of the 17 nations examined, Israel and North Korea are the only two nations in the list which were being judged by other nations (themselves subject to evaluation) but were not part of the poll of interviewed countries. In other words, Germany could express positivity or negativity for Germany, Japan for Japan, Iran for Iran, but Israel and North Korea were the only nations which were judged (positively or negatively) but were not given a voice. Maybe they are far too dangerous places to venture for an interviewer. Maybe nobody cares what they have to say, actually. Not BBC, who commissioned the survey.

And then they say it is not nice to talk about people when they are absent from the room!

My heart goes out to the bereaved families, and to those whose house have been already reduced to ashes, not forgetting the thousands who are waiting to see if there will ever be a home to get back to. While I grew to love the lighting of the candles during this generally happy festival, my heart is aching to even look at fire, even that of such small four flames, which carry a fraction of the same immense power that is devastating the north of the country.

I wanted to go up to Haifa to get some first-hand report, but after hearing of the fire, I had what I would call an unexpected domestic incident: I stumbled on our lovely cat (on reverse) and I fell right to the floor banging my head badly. So I ended up in the emergency room with a bottle of Limoncello pressed on my front, trying to keep the swell down. While I waited for hours to get my head scanned, I stared hypnotized at the images of the fire on a big screen, interrupted by the usual flow of trauma victims, old people dying, over-worked nurses and even a surrealistic visit of black dressed Orthodox Jews, who tried to cheer the  sick by singing songs and distributing heavy sufganyots (a sort of heavy loaded krapfen, typical of Hanukka). It was a strange day indeed.

Most people have a pretty dark image of Israel, so much that they will be reluctant to picture something even vaguely positive going on here, something other than wars and terrorism. Those who have ventured out to visit here, have left Israel with an even greater degree of confusion. They are incredulous that Israel has an art scene. They are sorry for having overlooked for years on the possibilities offered by a year-round, vibrant beach scene. They can be inspired by the sight of the many and thriving young families around. But when they hear that people are indeed happy here, there is a frown on their faces, as if to manifest the thought that, well, maybe, they shouldn’t.

Israel has been recently ranked as the 8th happiest country in the world. This intriguing statistic, as a friend called it, was published by Forbes; the news surprised me, as it quite strongly challenged my own perspective. I remember tweetering the following: “Israel 8th happiest country in the world – they did not ask me!“. As much as I have been enjoying living here, (maybe for the mild climate, maybe for the straightforwardness of the inhabitants, or for the many objectively fascinating aspects of this experiment which is modern-days Israel), there is a part of me which more or less consciously sits on the side of those who think that, maybe, we (I?) should actually be a bit ashamed of this happiness. Call it a Christian legacy, but I can not be mindlessly happy when this happiness comes at the expenses of other people. A bit like when you bite into a juicy piece of meat, until you stop to consider the point of view of the animal which has been killed for you to be able to enjoy this pleasure. Guilt creeps in. But is it really so? Can we really say that Israelis’ happiness is taking place at the expenses of others (read: Palestinians)? Well, truth is not so black and white. Never so simple.

What is that makes Israelis happy?

It is reasonable that wars and the presence of an external threat bring cohesiveness to a nation. As much as this should be true for both populations, it apparently isn’t, since Palestinians have been ranked 88th in the same hit parade of the happiest people in the world. To understand Israel’s top score, we could look into material wealth, of which Israel has an established share, infinitely more than the economically stalled Palestine of today. But, hey: money can only partially bring about happiness, as plentiful studies have shown in the past. Once you have enough to care for your own well being and that of your family, a greater degree of richness won’t directly affect your happiness in a positive way. Moreover, even if we accept the assumption that money makes you happy, then the wealthy European countries or United States should be on top of the list (and they aren’t). So what else can it be?

I once was told my Ulpan teacher that Hummus is the real source of happiness for Israelis. It is proved scientifically that chickpeas contains a certain chemical enhancer of relaxation, with mild intoxicating properties. But, seriously: is that enough to make people happy? It still does not clearly singles out Israelis, since many Middle East countries are avid consumer of the golden bean.

When comparing Palestine and Israel, many refers to the much greater freedom that the Jewish state enjoys. While this is absolutely true in relative terms (I don’t even want to start talking about the brutality of checkpoints and the similar measures of restriction which greatly affect Palestinians), overall freedom is not a peculiarity of Israel as a country: male Israelis have 3 years of obligatory military service ahead or behind them, female have 2, and both have many religious norms to bow to, which noticeably limit personal freedom: Shabbat, the precepts of kosher kitchen, ecc. Physical freedom is also restricted: the country is small, the neighbours are not so welcoming, and an Israeli passport wont make you a carefree tourist in many parts of the world. So what is it? In order not to resort to say “the sun”- although the scientifically connection between sunshine and happiness is well known – I will have to look further into the matter.

Maybe youth is the key. Israel is a young country, a home which has been missed for long by Jewish people. Anyone here – even the freshest Aliya immigrant, which won’t even speak the language yet – will go a long (read: looooong) way to defend Israel, even at the price of self-delusion about the objective sufferance of any affected counterpart. This country is precious in many ways, and even miraculous, if you think about it. Like most teenagers, Israel suffers of many defects: clumsiness, self-centeredness, arrogance. But it also boasts vitality, optimism and an incomparable freshness which I greatly appreciate.

It is comforting to read that the statistic took a look at the happiness of Israeli Arabs, who are Christian and Muslim Arabs which live within the current perimeter if Israel. One would think of them as a pretty miserable segment of the population, as they are often described in these terms, segregated in the house of the “enemy”. Nonetheless, when a referendum was handed out to Israeli Arabs of Um al Fahm, asking if they would rather join a newly created Palestinian state, a surprisingly 83% declined, dismantling the above preconception. Unhappy Israeli Arabs are maybe just another creation of the political discourse.

Note: these reflections about happiness are fluctuating and far from being authoritative. I will welcome any comment which will bring forth the inquire.

FONTS

http://www.haaretz.com/news/national/joy-to-the-world-israelis-among-the-world-s-happiest-people-1.304554

http://www.nationalpost.com/happiest+people+world/3406830/story.html

Shabbat derives from the Hebrew verb “to rest”, “to cease”. The etymology of the word is rooted in the opening chapter of the Bible, where it is written that God worked six days to create the world, but rested on the seventh. Likewise, Judaism expects people not to carry out any activity on Shabbat, which starts Friday at sunset and ends Saturday at sunset. The list of do’s and don’ts for the keepers of Shabbat is heavily restrictive and contains some odd precepts, especially when examined in the context of modern-day life. For instance, the Torah affirms that on this holy day one should not make a fire. Nowadays, This dictate has been extended to all electrical appliances, such as light bulbs, computers, and car engines. A corollary of this law is that on a resting day religious Jews are not allowed to operate buttons. This explains the mysterious  “Shabbat elevator”, a haunted machine which seems to have a life of its own: big hotels, hospitals and other public buildings provide the public with automated elevators that continually stop at every floor, without the need of human intervention. Cooking of any kind is also forbidden on Shabbat, as is boiling water: everything has to be prepared in advance. This prohibition gave birth to many Jewish culinary delicacies, such as Chund (a stew which is cooked on a very low temperature oven overnight), or the many cold salads and soups. Following the example of God, on Shabbat one is supposed to abstain from creating. Interpretations vary as to how literally this should be intended: it is not clear if reading a book, for example, render the words readable and therefore creates them. In doubt, observers will refrain from reading, at least for leisurely purpose. The Torah does not allow to carry objects on Shabbat. This applies to anything that is not one’s clothing or body. Here, opinions vary as well: you can safely carry a book, or the house keys, but you cannot carry a cell phone or an umbrella. Ongoing discussions are held upon the orthodoxy of tearing toilet papers (in doubt, some prepare pre-cuts on the eve of Shabbat, or purchase special pre-cut toilet paper), or whether tearing the aluminum off the top of a yogurt constitutes forbidden action.

No matter how hard or pedantic these rules may appear to the non-believer, they were created to fully honor the commandments which God himself gave to Moses on Mt. Sinai, not too far from where I am writing these words today. The Ten Commandments are the base of both Judaism and Christianity. Growing up in a Catholic household, I thought I knew the commandments well. In fact, my knowledge was heavily mediated by the interpretation that the Church has to offer. Before living in Israel, never did I spare a moment to question how and why Christians unabashedly ignore Sabbath as a direct and unequivocal commandment of God. Instead, Sunday has been universally recognized as the Christian holy day of the week, a day that in many Latin languages translates as “Day of the Lord” (from Latin dominus – the Lord- such as in the Italian word domenica, French dimanche and Spanish domingo). When exactly did this occur? Back in the IV century, it was Emperor Constantine who first declared Sunday as the official Christian holy day, re-assessing the pagan habit of Sunday as the day of Sun worshiping. Many see this decision in the light of the deliberate efforts that Christianity put in place in order to build itself a new identity, while dissociating from the embarrassing descent from Judaism.

Ecclesiastics explain the choice of Sunday by linking this day to the resurrection of the Christ, which the Gospels say took place on a Sunday (well, technically on a Saturday evening, which was not really Sunday although the Shabbat was over at sundown). Likewise, the fourth commandment of God has been conveniently rephrased from “sanctify Shabbat” into “sanctify the Holy Days”, thus removing any reference to a specific day of the week. To those who still insist in wondering how was the holy day of Shabbat dismissed so easily, the scholars will reply that Jesus himself was not a strict observer of Shabbat, since he was performing miraculous healing on this day of theoretical non-action.

References to Sabbath are found throughout the Bible. Israel went into captivity for breaking the Sabbath (Ezekiel 20). Jesus himself declared that the Son of Man was the Lord of Shabbat (Luke 6:1-11). It is no coincidence that many of Jesus’ sermons – like the famous Sermon on the Mount- took place on Sabbath. Similarly, there was no “Palm Sunday”, as the Christian like to remember the day of the triumphant entry of Jesus into Jerusalem: it was really a “Palm Sabbath”. The Acts of the Apostles report that early Christian communities continued to meet on Shabbat for worshiping and teachings, many years after the death of Jesus. Apostle Paul himself frequented the synagogue every Shabbat, showing continuity in the observance of this specific day.

Among the different branches of Christianity, only the Adventist Church recognizes the importance of the observance of Shabbat, as well as other kosher laws (such as abstaining from eating pork and shellfish). During the many masses I attended as a child, I have no recollection of ever hearing a word about Shabbat. I have questioned my Christian friends on this divergence from the Ten Commandments, but they seemed to have no idea as to why or when this occurred. It can be noted that the fourth is not the only commandment that Christianity nonchalantly discarded. The second commandment explicitly prohibits the adoration of God through images or statues. It is enough to step inside a church today, with its panoply of saints, frescos and baroque statues, to realize that something was lost along the way. But this is another story and as Shabbat is setting here, I’d rather switch off the computer and enjoy some due rest.

Shabbat shalom.

First, a short explanation about the name. Yad means “hand” but also “memorial”, while shem means “name”. The name of the museum derives from a Biblical verse: “And to them will I give in my house and within my walls a memorial and a name (Yad Vashem) that shall not be cut off“.

The museum is located in a quiet hill just outside Jerusalem, whose forest it overlooks. The entrance is free, although there is a small fee for purchasing maps or the (very useful) audio guide. The memorial was established back in 1953, but recently underwent a massive renovation, with the addition of a very informative Holocaust museum, which opened in 2005. Besides the museum, the complex hosts several memorials – for the children of the Holocaust, for the non-Jews who helped Jews avoid persecutions, and many scattered memorials for the vanished Jewish communities  – plus a synagogue, archives, a research institute, a library, an educational center and even a publishing house.

Certainly the most visited among them is the new Holocaust History Museum, which opened in March 2005 to replace the 1960s structure. The museum, designed by Israeli-Canadian architect Moshe Safdie, is made of massive concrete walls, laid out in a triangular structure, most of it sits underground. The shape symbolize the missing point of a star of David, made up by the millions of Jews who perished during the Holocaust. Proceeding through the galleries , one gets to know about the history and the unbelievable human consequences of the greatest tragedy mankind has ever witnessed. Only at the end of this dark but necessary journey, the visitor is given to emerge once again to daylight, to a stunning view of Jerusalem’s hillsides.

What I found most astonishing and emotionally gripping in both visits are undoubtedly the multi-media presentations, which displays personal accounts of the Holocaust. Seeing the faces and hearing the voices of the survivors, one is fully impacted by a tangible sense of anguish and pain. Individual stories are used to highlight the historical narrative in a very powerful way. While facing the videos, I kept saying to myself: these people have been through unimaginable peaks of sorrow, such inhuman conditions, an amount of unimaginable situations that most of us will – gladly – never ever have to come close in our lifetime. And these people, who were mostly children at the time of the events, makes up part of today’s elders of the state of Israel. In other words, the same old lady who is irritating me with her slow motions at the supermarket queue in Tel Aviv, might be the same person who has, in her youth, escalated a pile of corpses in a mass execution grave to miraculously walk back to life (her account was for me one of the hardest to bear, together with the one of the man who was appointed, as a 12 years old in the Buchenwald camp, to separate the gold from the flesh of the Jews who had their teeth pulled out before cremation).

I also kept thinking another thing: I wish I could drag over here the many anti-Semitic, mild revisionists and heavy deniers who refuse to acknowledge that the Holocaust tragedy ever took place, or at least did not have the magnitude and systematization which is historically recognized.

In terms of historical documents and individual memories, the Yad Vashem central database has collected so far 3.8 million names of Holocaust victims (all accessible online). So far, it has gathered 130 million pages of Holocaust-related documentation and over 385,000 photographs, as well as some 101,000 audio and video testimonies. At the end of the galleries, the Hall of Names displays part of the photographs of Holocaust victims and fragments of the testimonies collected. The images are reflected in the water at the bottom of the lower cone, thus commemorating the victims whose names are yet unknown. Surrounding the platform is a circular wall of black files who houses the pages of testimony collected up to date, with empty spaces for those yet to be submitted—room for six million Pages in all.

The Hall of Names