Each of us, at least it seems to me, has some kind of nightmare scenario in our heads. A pessimistic turn of events, which, even if it does not herald the end of the world, nevertheless expresses a fundamental fracture. And even if it's not so plausible, it's still a reasonable possibility.
Many of us, descendants of a post-traumatic and trigger-ridden people, roll these hypothetical scenarios among ourselves. Nightmare scenarios do ruin our mood, so we prefer to silence them, or at most whisper, with the addition of traditional spices such as "God forbid," "Allah will hide" and "Let us not know." On the one hand, we enjoy scratching the threat like a wound, and on the other hand, we hope with all our hearts that we will never get there. What are these nightmare scenarios about? - What not! Tell me what your scenarios are, and I'll tell you who you are.
Here, I once had a friend who was scared to death of the day cats would stop being afraid of us humans. It wasn't always clear if he was just toying with this story, or really horrified. But more than once, when we passed by a trash can, for example, he would get swept up in a detailed, and rather repulsive, description of "what would have happened if it had."
We haven't met in decades, and I pray that he doesn't deal with cinema, God forbid. I've seen a lot of movies that rummaged through their creators' nightmare scenarios, from Hitchcock's "Birds" to plague movies like "12 Monkeys" or "Infestation," and I don't want to see "Dung Cats." Thank you. I've always preferred movies where the popcorn manages to go down my throat. Here I said it.
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And what's my nightmare? Well, I'm pretty indifferent to zombie babble or alien attacks. I worry about the possibility that the people around me will lose their humor. And when I talk about humor, I don't mean the ability to tell a joke or tear someone up with laughter. Humor, for me, is the ability to look at yourself with irony. Laugh at the childish thought that you are the center of the world, and as if what concerns you right now should equally stir heaven and earth and all their army.
In humorless times in history, people often invited each other to duel. The solemn phrase "This world is too small for both of us" is the perfect expression of the lack of humor, and it contributed greatly to the arms industry, melodrama and undertaking. In other respects it was quite unfortunate, and also, come on, tends to be repetitive, worn out and boring.
I always feared that on the day humanity lost its humor, every disagreement would ring like an invitation to a duel, and every disagreement would turn into war. Therefore, in my opinion, one of the strongest lines of the late Meir Ariel describes a tense night at a reservist post on the border, and she says, "Whoever wants to stick a joke takes a risk." No kidding.
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A little story published this week, which I don't know how true or accurate it is, outlines what is happening to me. A café in a big city. A group of women enters and occupies a table. The owner recognizes someone from the gang. She is famous. "O'Shea" as they say. She participated in the protest. Or in protest against the protest.
The owner, however, decides on the spot that he doesn't want to sell coffee to this one. And no and no. Not coffee, nor the house pastry, which for me could be a phenomenal cross between brioche, Kaunas and Pavlova. It doesn't feel good to him, and he'll kick her out. It's his business, after all.
And even if the deportation scene muddies the atmosphere, which is not good for business, nor exactly legal, he doesn't care about the brioche. After all, she said so. And she supported those. And her, that is, those kinds of people, he doesn't want with him.
Like I said, I have no idea if that's how things actually happened (according to him, no). But even if it were close to that description, such scenarios are the epitome of nightmare. And on the face of it, it's strange, because I don't have the faintest idea who Natalie Dadon is (which is pretty much what the café owner claims in his defense as well). And I do like coffee shops, but I wouldn't go to war to grab a table in a trendy place.
Besides, I have no way of deciding the battle of versions. Was she expelled because of her opinions and support for the Netanyahu government (as Dadon claims), or because she behaved intolerably there (as the café owner claims)? But the fact that somehow this scenario no longer seems imaginary or far-fetched makes me shudder. Because it's a sign of something very sick and rotten, that looks like "someone stopped the flow in the central branch," as Tammuz once sang.
Last month, MK Boaz Bismuth was shouted at from a memorial ceremony in a synagogue. And no, no one even tried to claim that it was because of his behavior during the ceremony. Even before that, during the previous government, MK Smotrich called not to bring Naftali Bennett into synagogues. So everyone can claim that they didn't start. We recently heard about bills that would legalize non-provision of service to those who don't feel good in my eyes. And about the ugly events that desecrated the memory of the fallen much has already been written and needless to add.
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In short, these are no longer imaginary scenarios. Cafes, cemetery or synagogue. The nightmare is here. And well done to us that we managed to do it with our own hands. Through sustained effort, diligence and endless dedication, we have succeeded in paralyzing, almost to the core, two super-qualities of the Jewish people. Two qualities that should have starred in the list of human capital we boast so much:
A - Jewish humor. B - The Art of Controversy. The ability to disagree with any word you say, and still adamantly refuse to give up on you. Anyone who has studied a little Judaism is familiar with the impassioned announcement that even at the height of the disagreements between Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel, they did not refrain from marrying each other. They refused to let the controversy turn into personal animosity. It required a lot of effort and goodwill, and there is no doubt that Beit Hillel tried hard and wanted a little more. Or much more. And so they are the ones chosen to lead.
These two, the arts of humor and controversy, are interconnected and interdependent, and both are currently at historic lows. But there is no international rating agency to signal this to us. It's completely ours.
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I had happy and exciting days this week. On Sunday I was informed that I had been selected for the Uri Orbach Prize for Jewish Culture. Orbach himself was undoubtedly a superhero of the culture of humor and controversy. Since then, and until the moment I write these lines, I have done almost nothing but respond to greetings and congratulations, to regret that my dear parents are no longer around, and not to know my soul.
Over the years, I have met many older people who have come far in life, but will never forget the fool – uncle, neighbor or teacher – who a thousand years ago told them, "Nothing will come of you anymore." Some it stuck them, others it motivated and spurred.
I actually want to thank everyone who has ever encouraged me to tell my story and ours. He who believed and said a good word. To anyone who ever made me laugh or told me a story that made me go over "Thou Shalt Not Covet." And especially to those who come up at the end of the performance, say "you don't know this story" and tell you a story you've heard a thousand times, but they're still right, because you've never heard it exactly like that.
shishabat@israelhayom.co.il
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