A friend tries to explain the sudden shift. No explanation is needed, I tell him. It seems just very Jewish. "Like the moment at Jewish weddings when the groom breaks the glass with his foot and shortly afterwards the singing breaks out," I say. "You know why he does that?" my friend says. "To commemorate the destruction of the Temple," I reply, slightly irked he thinks I don't know this. "No," he corrects me. "It's because it's the last time the groom can put his foot down."
No fear of this in the president's garden. In front of an audience including 140 young men and women of the IDF, the president, prime minister, defence minister and chief of the general staff are each invited to choose a song to sing. When someone told me this would happen I was sure I was having my leg pulled, but no.
First Peres, then Bibi Netanyahu, Bogie Ya'alon and Benny Gantz choose a song and sing it out, each helped by a chosen singer. They all turn out to have passably good voices, though I become distracted with trying to work out what the British equivalent of such a ceremony could possibly look like. But it is warm, self-deprecating and only faintly surreal. All part of a nation in the strangest surroundings enjoying itself.
***
At the airport back in England, as I wait by the luggage carousel, an elderly English lady asks if I'll help pull her bag off when the time comes. Of course, I say, and as we fall into conversation I see her watching me closely. At some stage I mention "schlepping" somewhere. "Are you Jewish?" she inquires carefully. I thought this had been what she was wondering. "No," I say. "I thought not," she replies. "It's just, when you said, ‘schlepping'." We discuss various other Jewish words that are useful in any language. But there is a sadness about it. Perhaps it's just in the diaspora, but Jews always seem on the lookout, like having one less layer of skin. Which is why Israel matters. As an Israeli friend says: "At least this is ours."
No fear of this in the president's garden. In front of an audience including 140 young men and women of the IDF, the president, prime minister, defence minister and chief of the general staff are each invited to choose a song to sing. When someone told me this would happen I was sure I was having my leg pulled, but no.
First Peres, then Bibi Netanyahu, Bogie Ya'alon and Benny Gantz choose a song and sing it out, each helped by a chosen singer. They all turn out to have passably good voices, though I become distracted with trying to work out what the British equivalent of such a ceremony could possibly look like. But it is warm, self-deprecating and only faintly surreal. All part of a nation in the strangest surroundings enjoying itself.
***
At the airport back in England, as I wait by the luggage carousel, an elderly English lady asks if I'll help pull her bag off when the time comes. Of course, I say, and as we fall into conversation I see her watching me closely. At some stage I mention "schlepping" somewhere. "Are you Jewish?" she inquires carefully. I thought this had been what she was wondering. "No," I say. "I thought not," she replies. "It's just, when you said, ‘schlepping'." We discuss various other Jewish words that are useful in any language. But there is a sadness about it. Perhaps it's just in the diaspora, but Jews always seem on the lookout, like having one less layer of skin. Which is why Israel matters. As an Israeli friend says: "At least this is ours."
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