Ok, let’s get some housekeeping out of the way (whatever the hell that phrase means). The winner of the Jgooders comment contest is? Tsippy Gurion, with her fake fund name “Born Free- The society for returning all Beitar Yerushalaim fans back to nature.” They were all great but that one made me laugh out loud on two separate occasions. No worry about offending Beitar Yerushalayim soccer fans. I’m quite sure they’re not reading. I mean in general.
I’m not sure what the statute of limitations is to write about Yom Kippur but I suspect it might coincide with the beginning of Sukkot. Here we go….
We’ll do it bullet style:
- We call the last pre-fast meal “aruchah mafseket” (the stopping meal). Can you say that, boys and girls? Huh, can you? Had never heard that in the States. Do you ever have post-meal regret 10 minutes later when you’re like, “Oh, Jesus, I didn’t eat enough. Can I have a do-over?”
- One of my friends offered the option of going to a Moroccan shul. I feel like the chagim are a bad time to experiment. This is my big yearly shot to wipe the slate clean. I don’t want to funk it up like I’m at an Enigma concert or something. Gimme boring Ashkenazim, not, you know…whatever it is they do at Moroccan shuls.
- Because Kol Haneshama was packed tighter than a progressive synagogue in the German Colony, I decided to just walk around and soak up the atmosphere in Jerusalem, my first Yom Kippur in the holy city in 17 years. I don’t want to say Israel is a dangerous place, but I almost got run over by some ars going the speed of light on his bicycle. It’s Yom Kippur, shnitzelface, not the Tour De France.
“Marty, once this baby goes 88 mph…” “Doc, that’s a Jew. It’s Yom Kippur.”
Here’s where things get interesting…paying attention?
On the walk home, I decided to detour from Keren Hayesod into Rehavia because I find that walk up King George boring. (tense change) So I turn left at the Inbal hotel and walk down Jabotinsky. A few minutes later, I come to a cop car blocking the road. “Is everything ok?” “Prime Minister.” Ah, wow. That’s interesting. I didn’t see him, just a group of people walking ahead of me. A couple of minutes later, he lets me go at which point they were no longer even in sight. What the hell, why not follow the group and maybe get a peek at the guy? It’s not like I was the only one on the street…for those of you who don’t live here, his compound thingy is right in the middle of a residential neighborhood.
I turn right on some tiny street, just walking and exploring the neighborhood when I pull off to the side of the street to make a phone call. It’s Kol Nidre and I would just prefer not to be on the phone in the middle of the street. I think about this a lot on Shabbat. It reminds me of our Shabbat policy at camp where we keep it in public. Most people probably couldn’t give a flying falafel ball if I’m playing “Guitar Hero: Chumus Jam Band” on Ben-Yehuda Street, I just prefer to do as the Romans do. (By the way, this game is highly entertaining in Google Wave.) So I sneak into the little parking area of an apartment building to call my friend Moty who lives on Aza Street, not from from the Prime Minister’s house. No answer. I walk back to the street and continue on my way. Two minutes later, a security guy asks me “teudat zehut?” (identity card) First thought in my head: “Oh good Lord, I’m not getting my second jaywalking ticket in a month, am I?” No, it’s Yom Kippur. No cars on the roads. If this guy gives me a ticket, I’m throwing him into the Yarkon River and hitting my chest a little harder the next day in shul. Oh yeah….I’m a chnuny American Jew. The only thing I’ll be throwing into water is bread crumbs while I’m saying a bracha.
So what happens? Him and his fellow gever gever-y security guy detain me for FORTY-FIVE MINUTES interrogating me. Since, you know, I wear an orange thong, like long romantic walks in Gush Katif, and recently completed the “Which world leader would you like to off?” Facebook poll. (Don’t be offended, Gush Katifniks, I’ll make fun of the crazy lefties next time.) “Where do you live? Where are you coming from? Why didn’t you go to shul closer to your house? Who is this Moty guy? What is his address? Can I see the SMS you sent him? Where are you from? How can we be lovers if we can’t be friends?” Ok, I think Michael Bolton said the last one.
I tried to think, who could I call to get me out of this? For G-d’s sake, I used to work for the Israeli consulate in Atlanta. Unfortunately, my boss now is in DC at the embassy. Not to mention, I spent years recruiting for and planning Israel programs. I wonder if I get a phone call…
One guy talking and waiting with me, the other making phone calls looking at who knows what records. I got a C in college accounting. Does he now know this? And how do you translate “C”? Do they translate it to the third letter of the alphabet (gimel) or is it a samech, retaining the “s” sound? This is important.
It wasn’t like they gave me a full body cavity search (that was on Purim but only after several drinks), it was just that I wasn’t in a good mood anyway, I wanted to get home already, and it was my already lame, falling-on-Erev Yom Kippur birthday. I also knew that this was Israeli security and that nothing was random. You know, as opposed to in America where they would pull over the Golden Girls at the airport.
“Thank you for bein’ a friend….NOW DROP YOUR PANTS.”
I just couldn’t figure out what the hell I might have done. I knew I wasn’t guilty of anything and couldn’t figure out what they were looking for so I gave pretty short answers, in hindsight, probably unhelpful ones. Eventually, they asked me to lead them to Moty’s apartment even though he wasn’t answering his phone and was out walking around Rechavia as far as I knew. Fortunately when we arrived, he was there and answered the door. Head gever-y guy takes him inside and asks him questions, other guy stays outside. After a few minutes, he comes outside, makes some more calls while I stand next to him waiting. Finally, they let me go. I kind of suggested under my breath that maybe they can let me meet the Prime Minister after all this. You know, as a birthday present. No, they didn’t know.
For at least 30 minutes after they let me go, I sit with Moty and his girlfriend Merav talking through the whole thing trying to figure out what in G-d’s name just happened. Eventually, we realize it had to be the “walking down his street, sneaking off and making a phone call” combo. Remember, it wasn’t so clear to me, being in the middle of it. All I could think was, “Oh, come ON. Seriously? IT’S FREAKING YOM KIPPUR!” I mean, shouldn’t that have been taken into account? What if I had snuck inside because of rain? I guess they don’t take any chances.
Moty said I fit the profile of an extremist (you know, as an American male) they might be suspicious of and then said over 50% of Americans who make aliyah go straight to the West Bank. I said no chance. My friend at NBN also says it’s not true.
Anyway, this was actually only my second most ridiculous police interrogation, following the great “‘Melrose Place’ false domestic violence accusation” fiasco in my apartment sophomore year of college. Don’t ask.
In conclusion, I went to the Kotel the next day and had some good introspective moments. At the very end of the fast, I went to the Great Synagogue and ran into my friend Idan who had me over to eat afterwards.
In my opinion, while Jerusalem isn’t nearly as fun and simply “awesome” to behold as Tel Aviv, full of people and bikes and the empty Ayalon, I found this to be more spiritual and individual for me and closer to G-d.
Yom Kippur 2007. Pretty cool.
My slate is clear and I’m now I’m really ready for the new year.
Bibi, if you’d like to meet me, just leave a comment. I’m really a nice guy. Would I lie?
I actually live around there and get harrassed all the time by those guys..
funniest interaction was definitely when the mailman delivered Bibi's son's draft notice to our house by mistake.. i walked up to the security dudes outside and said, umm i think this is yours, they delivered it to the wrong address.
They started to get all "where do you live?" on me but I think they considered that maybe it'd be better if no one mentioned that a sensitive screw up like that took place.
No matter how many times the interview goes down, they're forever asking me what i'm doing there etc. — whatever you do don't wait outside there for more than a minute in a parked car (especially don't do that while talking on a phone)
They hassle everyone including delivery guys, (you thought sometimes your pizza delivery guy takes a long time?) phillipino care workers, etc, but I think they are hyper sensitive to americans or settler looking types, for some reason they really fear Jewish terrorism (i guess maybe because the most notable assassination in israel was carried out by a Jewish hitman?)
Sorry, Benji, but I think it's the haircut…
Yitz, wow, that is ridiculous. I was tempted to walk by on the way home and stare at them aggressively. Which would of course been both manly and dumb.
Raizy, I don't know what you're talking about, I have dreads now.
Riasy…What hair???
OK, chabibi. Spill the beans on the "Melrose Place" incident…
BTW, I don't think it's a coincidence that the CAPTCHA word for posting this comment is "mullet".
OK, this is the wake up call to grow your hair baacckk! You don't want to look, A. desperate, b. man from the future, c. crazy American.
Maybe they actually knew who you are, read your blog, and this was their chance to get you back for all the fun you've made of arsim.
Just 'cause we find it hysterical, doesn't mean those guys don't have feelings, too.
In other news – that pic from 2007 has so much more meaning to me now. When I first saw it, I didn't know what the Ayalon was. Now I live here; now I can feel the full impact of that photo. Cool.
What language did you speak? I must ask one of the guards if he was there.
You want to know what the statute of limitations is for YK? 1 minute after the end of YK. That is when my neighbours started hammering their succa together. They obviously cheated and had no meal to eat.
Regarding the "million questions game", we in Netanya understand. The mafioso bodyguards do it to anyone who approaches our local Mr. Big's apt building. Fun neighbourhood to live in.
Benji: You can always use me as a reference with the Bibi Security people.
Just say you're good friends with Jameel Rashid from the Muqata
Word verification: Sewer
Hmmm.
Arsim have feelings?
I spoke a mix of English and Hebrew.
First of all, your story is clearly not true: I've learned from CNN, The New York Times and Ha'aretz that the Zionist security apparatus only harasses innocent Palestinians, and does it for no reason.
Secondly, if it did happen, I'm pretty sure here's how it actually went down:
SHABAK GEVER #1 (SG1): Azeh boring, this Kol Nidre. I can't believe I got to work on Yom Kippur!
SHABAK GEVER #2 (SG2): Barur! Hey, look at dat guy who just turned down the alley — betchu 10 shecks we can have some fun with him.
SG1: Meyah ahuz, ahi. Dees guy has freir written all over him. … Uh, slicha adoni, "teudat zehut?" (whispering to SG2:) Holy sheet! Dis is Bahn-gee, the funny man.
SG2: B'ima sheli! Dees will be great. I saw him at a show. All he did was make fun of security. I still can't ask my kids what they packed for lunch without being laughed at.
SG1: Eh, so Bahn-gee, tagidi, what you are doing here?
Ben: Calling my friend Moti to get some chummus.
SG2 to SG1: Always with the Chummus. I was stuck guarding a convention and he kept talking about the chummus. I was so hungry!
SG2 to Ben: Eh, so who is dis Moti?
Ben: Just my friend who lives down the street.
SG1 to SG2: No way! I was in tzahal with Moti. I've been meaning to go by and say hello. Let's keep this going for awhile…
SG2: Eh, so Bahn, you are international terrorist, yes?
Ben: No, that's ridiculous.
SG1: But you try to blow up train station, yes?
Ben: What?!
SG1: Just keeding! You make fun of our president, though?
Ben: Um, am I on candid camera?
SG2: Meester, we ask the questions here. Let's go see Moti.
[everyone goes inside, SG1 catches up with Moti, explains the whole joke, decides to let Benji sweat awhile longer, then comes out, slaps Benji on the chest and lets out a big....]
SG1: YIYEH BESEDER!!! So, you want do break fast at my place?
B"H
1. You probably had a much more meaningful Yom Kippur than if you were at that place, pretending to be a Jewish religious enter.
2. Regarding your being detained,… welcome to the fascist state.
They obviously read you blog, see that I comment on it occassionally, and are trying to get to me through you.
;-}
Look at it this way, YK is partly about self-examination. Seems like HaShem wanting to find a way to get you to do just that…
"what in G-d's name just happened"
"it wasn't so clear to me, being in the middle of it."
What post is riddled with [unconscious] references to introspection.
3. Please call the "West Bank" {even though it's an accurate term,and the East Bank belongs to us, too.} Judea and Samaria, at least. Better to refer to tribal areas by name: Yehudah, Binyamin, Efraim, Menashe.
I'll get you a map, hopefully next week.
I have to say that one a few occasions, I have thought to myself, "Self, that Benji sure does look suspicious. Playing the innocent, introspective guy on Yom Kippur. Just who do you think you are kidding?"
'Course, if you would have gotten out of it in 5 minutes, then you wouldn't have this amazing story to tell.
And, you could have called me. I know one of the guards for the PM's house. Believe me. It's a small world.
And thanks for the pre-Chag post. Now I can start cooking…
I'm new around here, and haven't seen you in person, but if that picture is accurate, the hair does make a difference.
I kept a super short haircut for years after the Marines, and always wondered why people either acted intimidated by me, or gave me attitude as if they were trying to intimidate me.
Grew the hair out, bought a comb, no troubles now.
Also, Phoenix is a long way from Bibi's house, but I also avoid suspicious behavior where it might be noticed i.e. airports and such.
Your Moroccan comment reminded me of this golden oldie: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qXrGtLEmW-Y
I suppose the guards at the President's house are much more רגוע than the PM's… they've never interrogated me like that. I also live next door and don't make suspicious phone calls. Sometimes I do wonder when I'm watching an action movie a full volume…
Then again I tend to ride my bike through the security gates at the PM's house and usually get a halfhearted "Do you have a gun?" as I'm whizzing through with at full backpack.
I meant your Beitar fund. They could use the video as a campaign fundraiser…
And you should check out a Mizrachi synagogue on Yom Kippur, all the sins without the pain…. I always feel uplifted rather than wrung out at the end. It's more like 'ok, we screwed up, we know it and we'll try and do better even though we'll probably screw up just as bad again.' Unlike the Ashkenazi self flagellation.
Something to do with the surrounding society begrudgingly according you second class citizen status vs. wanting to kill you for killing their god.
I know the Melrose Place story, and it's tough to decide which is funnier. I'd say the MP story is more ridiculous though.