One of the most spectacular expressions in contemporary Hebrew is the word "in the passage".
No matter what you said up to the point.
You can always add "in the good section" or "in the bad section" after it, and turn everything upside down in a retroactive section.
"In the passage" is a superhero of the language.
There is no limit to the reversal ability of the "segment".
We have all heard of "unbearable, in the good section", "genius, in the bad section", "hate you, in the good section" and also "quality in the disgusting section".
The superpower of the "segment" allows for a quick and elegant retreat from embarrassing situations that were previously considered hopeless.
In my childhood, what a pity, we did not have this great option.
If you sat on the rails with Moshiko, say, and spewed something miserable and unforgivable like "I'm a rough piece of beast, I tell you," you had no escape solution in the form of the addendum "in a good section, yes?", Which could have saved the situation once it turned out In the same sister, mother or hidden love of the same Moshiko.
I mention this for several reasons: A - Excessive use of the trick in the "section" may evoke nostalgia for the simple and direct language of yesteryear.
B - because the Knesset of Israel is convening again, and all the signs indicate that this time, too, it will not be boring.
The question is in what section.
Of course, none of the Knesset members returning from vacation asked me.
Still, I would like to advise, perhaps even wish everyone who aspires to be parliamentarians of the kind of the late Ilan Gilon, who passed away just before the end of the holiday. Or of the kind of the late Uri Orbach, who was a friend in Gilon's heart and soul, despite the controversy and all that.
Unlike some MKs who manage to move from party to party and still not be popular with either of them, Auerbach and Gilon have worn the media of the same group throughout their political careers, and yet, and perhaps precisely because of that, have left deep sympathy in the hearts of their bitter rivals.
In some cases even love.
And I know a lot of smart people try to argue that sympathy is neither a serious sign nor a value, and we never came to like it.
But it must be remarked that the literature of Jewish wisdom has always deeply valued what it called "to find favor and common sense in the eyes of God and man" or to be "kind to human beings."
In a good section, of course.
These versions appear in the sources too many times for us to underestimate this feature, which allows people to like and dislike even those who disagree with their opinions.
Before I say a little about the late Ilan Gilon, I must say a word about the reactions to the announcement of his death. Beautiful in the Yiddish language: “manch.” A word that if we do not recover soon, we will very soon find ourselves trying to translate it into a generation that did not know.
And if we do not rush to recover, they will not only know the worn-out vocabulary that smells of old age, but also the simple values behind it.
Values that must preserve eternal youth.
Because it seems to me that with all the acrobatic flexibility in the world, it is impossible to say "man, in a bad section".
The reactions with Gilon's death, I would say, were painful.
Because in a corrected Israeli world, this is exactly how we were supposed to say goodbye to every personality that colored our lives.
It is a rainbow of emotions that the loss of a colleague, friend or character was supposed to extract from us.
The fact that Gilon was such a rare phenomenon is painful and unfortunate.
And no, it's not a fate.
People buy in their lives and choices the place they will be captured in hearts.
Or as they say in Judith: "A good name is better than good oil."
The beloved and endearing Gilon honestly won the wonderful words and sincerity showered on him upon his departure (he, presumably, would make a sarcastic and very politically incorrect remark about the choice to use the word "his departure" regarding a man who had suffered all his life from this matter).
• • •
And now to our inevitable corner of "The Deceased and I": Years ago, when Gilon was a fairly new MK, I hosted an educational program on educational television called "Someone Spoken." And guests in the studio.
If I remember correctly, Gilon was a guest on the show where we dealt with "Know Where You Came From."
And maybe we just slipped into the eternal question of how a person, and precisely the one who gains success and status, keeps himself, the compass and the conscience.
Right towards the end of the show I asked him, how can he be sure that over the years he will not grow thick skin and become a cynical and corrupt politician as happens to many.
Gilon did not think twice, forcibly pulled up his trousers and showed us, and the spectators, that the two socks he was wearing were a different color.
But really different.
In the section of red and green.
Gilon celebrated the moment.
"That's what I do," he cheered with his half-hoarse, charming smile.
"Whenever it comes to my mind you know what, I'll pull on my pants a bit, see the socks and say to myself, do not forget who you are. You are the little Ilan and the slumber from Ashdod."
Needless to say, we were all captivated by his charm.
Needless to say, years later it did not pass us by.
Of course, as someone who has already seen a thing or two, something inside me suspected that there was a politician here who was giving us a gimmick.
But time and time again over the years I had to admit no, and that it was his most real.
That the story of the socks is Ilan Gilon in his own right.
The man who, along with being a key activist in the scene of the new Israeli left, is also a kind of character in an old Hasidic story.
What strengthened the image were the homemade jam jars that he would lovingly cook and distribute as friendly gifts to anyone who won his affection.
There was a sticker on the jar I was once given, with the most unsophisticated words in the world in handwriting: "Jam that is good."
An original and heartbreaking phrase, which again pinched me with the news of his death.
Two comments
A.
For a long time there has not been a ridiculous, paranoid and distorted campaign here like the attempt to claim that giving up the fireworks show on the eve of Independence Day damaged the joy of the holiday, and even deliberately sought to damage it.
True, we used to enjoy fireworks a lot.
But once we realized how much sorrow it causes, the pleasure itself was eroded.
By the way, once upon a time we also really enjoyed burning asbestos in Lag B'Omer bonfires. We enjoyed seeing lions and elephants in the circus, and my elementary teachers really enjoyed smoking during class and ashing their stinking "Ascot" cigarettes in the chalk gutter at the bottom of the board. Mass longing for this whole package.
B.
A few weeks ago, a video was published on the networks in which a group of young Arabs raged on the paths of Kibbutz Kfar Masaryk.
They did not come well and did not come to be hosted.
They galloped their horse-drawn carriages onto the lawns, with the open intention of stirring up a rage, putting a finger in the eye, and making it clear that crooked local coexistence, respect, and consideration were a one-way street.
Experience shows that whenever such "small" events pass with restraint and silence, blood is shed the next day.
But we continue to ignore the experience.
One day we will have to understand that in our neighborhood, whoever is applied for his honor is not considered a nobleman but a poor soul.
The only question is how high the tuition fee will be on this late understanding.
shishabat@israelhayom.co.il
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