Religious mustard and other Hebrew acronyms
In the U.S. and most western countries, Jews tend to identify their religious affiliation through one of the major Jewish movements, be it Conservative, Reform, Orthodox, Reconstructionist, Jewish Renewal, and even Secular Humanistic Judaism. Not so in Israel, where one’s religious standing is far more nuanced. In a country that loves army-influenced acronyms, a whole school of literary shortcuts and word play have sprung up.
The two simplest and most frequent appellations are “dati” and “hiloni” – “religious” and “secular” respectively. Within the religious category, however, there is “haredi” (“ultra-Orthodox”); “dati leumi” (“national religious” also known as “modern Orthodox”); “dati lite” (religious but not too stringent, as in “I’ll kiss you and still put on tefilin in the morning”); “masorti” (“conservative” but with a lower case “c” – as in, “we keep kosher but watch a movie after Shabbat dinner”); and a pejorative label used by haredim to describe anyone less frum than them: “reformim” (no translation required).
The strangest? “Hardal” (an acronym for “haredi leumi” – for those ultra-Orthodox who also serve in the army). The funny part is that the word in modern Hebrew also means “mustard.” Does that mean that they prefer spicy condiments on their glatt kosher army rations?
Where it gets really interesting is that there is a whole new emerging lexicon of terms for religion “in transition” that I haven’t seen anywhere else in the Jewish world. For the formerly religious, there’s “datlash” (“dati l’sheavar,” literally “religious in the past”) and its parallel “hozer b’shealah” (“return to questioning”). Going in the other direction and becoming religious, you can say “hozer b’tshuva” (“returning to repentance”) or “ba’al tshuva” (a true “master” of repentance).
A religious person who believes men and women should receive equal rights to be called up to the Torah would be a “datash” (for “dati l’shivyoni,” a religious egalitarianist), while someone who thinks he or she might become religious down the road (maybe after marrying a religious person – these kinds of “mixed marriages” are becoming increasingly common in Israel – would be a “datla” for “dati l’etid” (literally “religious in the future”).
My favorite of all is a new one I just heard from an Israeli friend: “Hashash” (for “hiloni shomer Shabbat” – apparently someone who is entirely secular but also keeps the Sabbath). The word in modern Hebrew also means “fear” or “apprehension” which led my friend to say to me “I have a hashash that you are really a hashash.” Perhaps she would prefer that I was a “hozer b’shealah l’sheavar” – a religious person who becomes non-religious and then becomes religious again.
Confused? Just invent one of your own!
But is that McFalafel kosher?
David wrote yesterday on Israelity about the introduction to the Israeli market of the McFalafel. While I’m not running out to make McDonald’s my new falafel joint (Falafel Oved in Jerusalem is the best in the country – and I’ve written about it before, so it must be true, right?), there were a few interesting tidbits in this article on YNET about the new McCulinary offering.
Specifically, did you know that 30% of all McDonald’s in Israel are kosher? That number was quite surprising. When McDonald’s first opened, there were exactly three kosher branches – in Ra’anana, Beit Shean and Meveseret Zion. The big restaurant in the center of Jerusalem, with the hulking Ronald McDonald statue – treife.
At the time, McDonald’s Israel CEO Omri Padan was quite outspoken about his anti-religious opinions; opening even those three McDonald’s was a concession to coercive market forces, he hinted at the time.
And then when he wanted to actually open a kosher McDonald’s in Jerusalem after all, the Rabbinate refused, saying that all outlets of the same chain in the city needed to be kosher. And so, the McDonald’s in the Central Bus Station served only kosher meat, no cheeseburgers and was closed on Shabbat – but without kashrut certification.
In the last couple of years, McDonald’s has figured out how to get around the Rabbinate’s injunction, by opening a sub-brand which replaces the red background on which “McDonald’s” is written with a blue strip, along with prominent text in English and Hebrew reading “Kosher.” The fabled arches remain their traditional yellow.
The truth is, I’ve long since stopped caring about being able to get my hands on a Big Mac. What was once a delicacy in my youth (I lived in a suburb where McDonald’s only arrived when I graduated high school) is now just a source of unnecessary weight gain (although, as David points out in his post, McDonald’s claims the new McFalafel only has 499 calories – not 500, mind you – and a moderate 6.7% fat.
Padan also shared the results of a McDonald’s survey which found that “the majority of the secular public, 70%, wants kosher meat, 15% says it doesn’t matter, and only 5% want non-kosher meat.”
Does that mean that, if you squint your eyes really tight, McDonald’s is actually kosher? Not so fast. While McDonald’s Israel won’t sell you anything with bacon (there goes my old favorite, the Egg McMuffin), there are still cheeseburgers available. But, as “only 0.25% of adults ask for it,” Padan says, “we’ve slowly lowered its profile. Why should we openly display the cheeseburger if no child asks for it?”
For the kosher (and non-kosher) eating public, though, there’s another reason why McDonald’s might not be as attractive in Israel as overseas: the price. A Big Mac can easily set you back $10 or more. That’s certainly not what I’d call a happy meal.
From Sudan to Jerusalem
One of the hot topics in the news these past months has been the steady influx of refugees from Africa who have crossed the border between Egypt and Israel, and Israel’s subsequent response of building a fence to keep the Africans out.
With 1,000 refugees arriving every month now, the issue is not trivial. It’s further complicated by the historical Jewish imperative to treat the less fortunate with kindness and compassion and not close the floodgates.
Until recently, the subject was mostly theoretical for me. I had never sat down and actually talked with someone who had made the long journey northward and slipped across the Sinai border.
So I was very intrigued when the opportunity arose to spend a Shabbat meal with a refugee from Darfur, now living in Jerusalem and working as a cleaner. “Jack” had earlier in the day given a talk at our synagogue. He joined us at the Shabbat table of our friends Bob and Ruth, accompanied by a volunteer from the U.S. who is helping him write and edit his speaking material.
Jack was quite articulate as he explained who was fighting whom, why, and for how long. We learned about peace agreements that have been broken, and the current struggles by southern Sudan to secede from the violent north.
Near the end of the conversation, I decided to ask a tough and potentially inflammatory question. What did Jack think of the fence Israel is building? He must be against something that would prevent his country-mates from finding safe haven in Israel, I imagined. His answer surprised me.
Jack was all for the fence, he said. He understood Israel’s dilemma and explained that, as a small country, Israel could not be expected to absorb refugees indefinitely. The fence should be built…but here was the kicker: all refugees already in Israel should receive legal resident status and be allowed to work and build their families here.
What would happen to other would-be asylum seekers, I asked? There were other countries in Africa that would take in the displaced Sudanese, Jack assured us. Once word filtered south that there was now a wall preventing entry into Israel, the flow would surely stop.
I’m not sure what to make of Jack’s response. Was he presenting a politically balanced position calculated to win Israeli favor, or was he thinking only about how to make the best of his own situation, while cynically turning a blind eye to others in a similar, bleak predicament?
The fence and the African migration test Israel’s conceptions about what kind of country we want to be. Should we be a refuge for at least some of the world’s most downtrodden? Or must we protect ourselves from the slippery slope of a demographic a danger.
I don’t have an easy answer. And neither, apparently, did our new friend Jack.
Shiner
My wife Jody and I were out for our morning run. We’d headed out from our home in Baka and were on the hill heading up towards the Ramat Rachel kibbutz. Normally I’m in front but I was feeling sluggish this morning and Jody was practically sprinting.
Our running order turned out to be a blessing when I saw Jody go down about 10 meters in front of me. She’d tripped and was now sprawled on the sidewalk. As I reached her, I could tell it was nothing too serious. She was alert, there was no blood, no shrieks of pain indicating a break of any sort. There was just a nasty scrape above her right eye that began to swell as we surveyed the damage; she’d obviously gone down face first.
Now I don’t want to make a big deal about Jody’s condition –she’s really fine, other than a few aches, pains, and a small dose of hurt pride. What was remarkable, however, was the response of the Israelis who drove by.
Car after car – including the learners and vehicles driven by Israeli Arabs on their way to nearby Sur Baher – pulled over and asked if they could help. One guy even jumped out of his car before we could send him back on his way, since Jody could (and did) walk home.
We’ve all heard comparisons between countries – those in which someone could be laying on the pavement and no one stops, and others where basic humanity trumps narcissistic indifference. Israel, I am proud to say, fits into the latter category.
There’s no dramatic surprise ending here. We didn’t get a ride to the hospital just in the nick of time to stop a catastrophic brain hemorrhage. As I write this, Jody is sitting talking to a girlfriend on the phone with a pack of frozen peas on her forehead. But I am happy to be surrounded by a community that really cares.
Peace or aliens: Israel in 2018 and 2111
Filed under: coexistence, Movies, Politics, War
How will Israel look in 2018 or 2111? Will there be peace…or aliens? Two ambitious projects culminated last week with a film and a Facebook campaign, both intended to drive home the future consequences of inattention to the problems of today.
Of the two, One Voice was the more serious. The non-profit organization, unabashedly in favor of a two-state solution to peace in the region, sent out messages via Facebook to politicians and media celebrities – from Defense Minister Ehud Barak to musician Yoni Bloch – informing them they would soon be receiving a package.
The package consisted of a fake newspaper called “Israel Tomorrow” (designed to look like the popular “Israel Today” publication), dated January 1, 2018 and proclaiming that the end of the conflict had finally been achieved.
Tal Harris, the director general of One Voice Israel, told Haaretz that the purpose of the campaign was two-fold: “To acknowledge and thank those who are really working toward a two-state solution (and) to remind…conservatives (that) they could one day get a prize for helping Israel achieve peace, if they only stood for what they know Israel needs.”
One Voice is now launching a film competition calling on movie makers to share their vision of the region on Israel’s 70th birthday in 2018. But cinematic depictions of the nation’s future have already been tackled, in particular, by the just concluded “Jerusalem 2111” project where the winning flick received a $10,000 prize.
The contest, which sported some big name judges including Avatar producer Jon Landau and German director Wim Wenders, awarded top honors to a two-minute film called “Secular Quarter” by U.S.-based cinema student David Gidali.
In his vision, Jerusalem is divided by huge cages sealing off neighborhoods with different political and religious worldviews. When UFOs arrive to remove the cages (which presumably these unexplained extraterrestrials put in place after some calamitous event), religious and secular meet for the first time in years. Cut to black.
It’s a cheeky approach, but ultimately optimistic. Compare that with two other entries, one of which shows a nuclear explosion set off in the city and rippling out to rupture the entire world, and another depicting a battle which unites Jewish and Arab forces against a horde of flesh eating zombies.
Good thing the delivery packages didn’t get mixed up. I’m not sure I want to know how Ehud Barak would react to the peace through zombie message.














