Dateline Jerusalem — Never ah uninteresting day living in Israel. I am totally amazed at the friendliness, helpfulness and generosity of the people here, how accommodating they can be. Yet often they have a reputation for being rude. Perhaps that is why native born Israelis are called sabras. A sabra fruit is a prickly pear. Both the fruit and the people are known to be sweet on the inside, tough outside.
Israelis seem to be proud of their reputation of being macho, their rudeness, their audacity and their chutzpah. Chutzpah cannot be described by a one- or two-word definition. Close your eyes. Imagine the following: A child murders his parents and then begs the court for mercy and leniency because he is now an orphan. Now that is chutzpah!
When I made aliyah, there was an advertisement for someone who provided instructions on how to become Israeli. The course included “heightened aggressiveness” and “getting around without feeling sorry for yourself.” No one in Israel wants to be known as a fryer, a naïve person, a sucker, a patsy, a fool. It often refers to new immigrants who fall victim to situations a native sabra would instinctively avoid. A fryer is so naive that paying double for something is often taken for granted or even expected. Therefore, Israelis go out of their way to portray themselves as prickly so that no one would ever consider them a fryer.
Most of the time, though, Israelis go out of their way to be helpful. For example, last Friday when the markets were crowded with people preparing for Shabbat and buying Passover items, I had a shopping cart full of groceries at the checkout stand. I planned on doing a mishloach, a home delivery. I told a couple people with few items to go ahead of me in line. But when it was my turn to check out and I requested mishloach, I was informed that I was two minutes too late and there would no longer be delivery. I did not know what to do since I do not have a car and had too many groceries to carry them home. A complete stranger in the market overheard me. He offered to drive me home. When I got home, I was unloading my groceries from the elevator. A neighbor I did not know from another floor helped carry my packages to my apartment. Where else in the world would a person feel safe enough to get into a stranger’s car or let a stranger carry packages into his/her apartment but in Israel? I have met strangers on buses and in stores who have often invited me to have a Shabbat meal at their homes. And I did not think twice about accepting their invitation.
Who Is Calling?
Another time, I lost my cell phone. The local florist saw my distress. He stepped out of his shop and offered me his cell phone to call my phone. A woman answered. She said she had found it and sent her brother on his bicycle to deliver my phone to me. I have since used the florist and he has been more than helpful by leaving his shop open and unattended to carry plants to my apartment. He has never experienced any thefts or vandalism in doing so. Once I bought a large screen digital television at the pharmacy. During his lunch hour, the pharmacist delivered it to my apartment and set it up for me free of charge.
A taxi driver picked me up from the hospital late one night when I broke my foot. He drove all over town looking for an open pharmacy or medical equipment rental place so I could get crutches. He did not even charge me extra to do so.
When I first came to Israel I asked a taxi driver if he knew where I could buy furniture. He drove me to a store, parked his taxi, and helped me negotiate a deal with the store manager. He did not charge me for the time spent shopping for furniture with me.
How We Are Different
Other things are uniquely Israel. IKEA has a model dining room in their store with the table set up for a Passover seder. The TicTac breath mints in Israel come in a hummus flavor, there are shakshuka-flavored Doritos. Even Easter bunny chocolate candies are kosher for Passover. During Sukkot, Xmas lights and tree tinsels are sold as sukkah decorations. Oy!
What is uniquely Israel is the need for Israelis to be matchmakers. It is a Biblical mitzvah of V’ahavta L’ravacha Kamocha, to attempt to make a shidduch, a match between husband and wife. The person making it is called a shadchan (matchmaker). There is a common saying that making three shidduchim guarantees the matchmaker a place in olam haba, the World to Come. Yet this three-match mitzvah does not seem to have a particular source. It is considered by some to be an old wives tale. Although a shidduch is common in Orthodox Jewish communities, in Israel it is common among Israelis in general. A single person in Israel becomes the object of everyone’s good intentions to perform a mitzvah by finding the single person a spouse. Some take it upon themselves to find the perfect mate for friends and relatives, others use the services of a shadchan, and even strangers get into the act.
When I arrived in Israel a security guard at the market asked me if I were married. When I advised him I was not, he took out a piece of paper and wrote the name and phone number of the cousin of his cousin who was looking for a wife. Needless to say, I did not call. Once I was even stopped on the street by a man looking for a wife. But some of the “best” shidduchim have been from friends who have set me up with a man who only wanted to date me when he was out of work, an alleged great intellectual conversationalist who would not speak because he had no teeth, and a man 17 years younger who was “looking for action” instead of a wife. Then a friend was promised a job if he could find a wife for the father of his friend who was divorced several times, had a six-year-old daughter who needed someone to care for her, and who spoke no English and I spoke no Hebrew. My friend was angry when I said “no” because he did not get the job.
Everyone in Israel has an Only-in-Israel story to tell. Some are funny, some bittersweet, and some harrowing. Whatever they may be, those of us who decided to come to Israel are happy we did so
L’hitraot. Shachar