
1.
A lot of people ask me: What does your wife actually do? Is she a news anchor? Writes books? Gives workshops on Zoom?
That's a good question, because thank God she does a lot of things in all sorts of fields, but if I were to define her profession by what she works on most of the time, the answer is simple: she films blessing videos for coronations and Purim performances.
And no, it's not her business just in the month of Adar. Why not? The coronations are not a matter for the month of Adar. They are held this month, true, but they are worked on a long time in advance. I see how Ulpan girls or high school yeshiva students approach her backstage at events held in the month of Iyar, for example, and politely ask to film her for the video of the coronation that will take place in more than six months.
Once, a teacher even approached her, two days after Purim, and asked for a video for next year's coronation. Well, at least it wasn't a leap year.
I'm always amazed by the amount. Don't you work on it? Are you sure there's a high school like that? Are you sure there's a community like that? Wow, I didn't know there were so many educational institutions in the sector. It just doesn't end. And it's hard to refuse when you see how happy it fills them. They stand in front of it with a cell phone and take pictures with a victorious smile. They already have Akiva, Miriam Feierberg, Aviv Alush, two of Andrades, Dodi Amsalem, Momo Filber and now Sivan Rahav-Meir.
It's a bit strange for me to look at the situation from the sidelines, because it always seems to me that my wife, who didn't grow up with a religious education, doesn't fully understand the concept. The Queen of Coronations has never been to a coronation. And so, instead of saying some funny and short sentence, she takes the opportunity, of course not, to beat the Torah at the young people, quoting Purim midrashim and even involving them in this week's parasha.
I always wonder what of all the material filmed will eventually make it to the big screen at the Coronation.
The photo shoot is over. My wife goes about her business, the students move on to the next celebrity, and I am left with lots of thoughts and memories from Purim and the coronation videos.
2.
There were no good days for mediocre students like me, like Purim and the Shavuot before it. After all, what did they keep saying about me? "Not realizing his full potential." Year after year, certificate after certificate, parent meeting after parent meeting, the motif of potential repeated itself over and over again.
And now, for a few days a year, I do realize my full potential. Suddenly my talents are expressed in writing, humor, editing, and music selection. Oh, what satisfaction. Suddenly the desk in the classroom is not just that green thing on which you place the book 'Geometry of the Plane' by Aharon Aspis. A desk is something that can be connected to another one, then mounted on them and starred in a play that makes the entire meeting laugh.
I remember that in the days after the Purim events, I was so high from the success of the plays that it even made me study better for a few days (the Passover vacation, which always came within two weeks, interrupted the success).
3.
A week before my 11th grade Purim, that is, a week before the most elaborate Purim production I was involved in (so elaborate that I no longer studied at the yeshiva the following Purim. Apparently the administration decided to keep my artistic career at its peak), I was driving through the Ben Shemen Forest area, on my way home from the yeshiva, and I saw an amazing spectacle.
The road was blocked to vehicle traffic on both sides and in the center was a car on the roof of which one of the most famous and funniest actors in the country at that time was dancing. Perhaps the most famous and funniest. A helicopter hovered above, filming the entire scene from the air. It turned out that they were filming a particularly expensive commercial there that was intended for broadcast on television.
When I saw this, I immediately understood why God had called me to that place. I got out of the ride, which was stuck in traffic, and ran on foot through the fields home to bring the video camera to the location.
I'll pause for a moment for a little historical-technological explanation for the benefit of young readers: You need to understand that in those days of the 1990s, video cameras were a rare and expensive commodity. Not every cell phone had them, because there were no cell phones. Personally, I never even dreamed of a video camera. Its price was beyond my wildest dreams.
But in our yeshiva, a nice guy who came from a wealthy banking family from Switzerland was teaching. They said at the time that his grandfather had a private plane, but what was more exciting for me: my grandson had a Panasonic video camera, and in his generosity he lent it to me to film the material for the Purim presentation. Of course, I didn't just walk around the street with it unnecessarily, but hid it deep in a locked closet at home.
So I ran home, grabbed the Panasonic, quickly inserted a blank tape, and ran back panting through the fields to catch that actor and film him saying the sentence I had been formulating all along: "Happy Purim, sixth period from Marava!".
Luckily for me, when I arrived, not only was the entire production still there, but I happened to stumble upon a break in filming. I pulled out the camera, turned it on first so as not to waste time, and excitedly approached the actor.
Look, I don't want to judge anyone. Maybe a second ago someone annoyed him. Maybe he was hot after hours of filming. Maybe he heard someone on the radio that day speaking against yeshiva students. Or maybe he simply didn't understand what this snoozer wanted from him.
Bottom line: He didn't appear in our Purim movie that year. But it's not just that. It's also how he told me the no.
I returned home with the camera, through the fields that seemed less green to me, heartbroken and hurt. How hurt? To such a degree that almost twenty years later, when all the media channels reported that that famous actor had passed away, I said three times out loud, "Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me.".
4.
And back to those Purim days. This week I received a festive invitation that at first seemed strange to me. "Machzor Ad at Midrasheith Noam Magish: The performance in their memory.".
This is an event that will take place on Monday in a week and a half, two days before Purim, on the campus of the Noam Ort Midrashite in Kfar Saba, and in which a Torah scroll will be presented to honor the souls of the graduates of the midrashite who were martyred in the Israeli military and victims of hostilities. Wait, but what does the words "the performance in their memory" written in large letters at the top of the invitation have to do with it?
Well, at the bottom of the invitation appears an explanation: "This year, this event will replace the mythological play that was performed in the midrashiya throughout its decades!".
Wow. Something has happened in Israel. You don't have to be a Midrashite to know how central the Purim presentation was in the lives of thousands of its students and graduates. And now the Midrash students are canceling it and deciding to devote their time, energy, and creativity in the month of Adar to something completely different.
The exciting invitation was accompanied by a letter received by the students' parents, explaining the background to the matter: "Dear parents, God bless you, peace and light, and peace be upon you. The 'show' – a midrashic concept like 'Rabbi Yogel', may he be remembered for good, and 'the fellowship' – is deeply rooted in the tradition of the midrash. There were years when it was a magnificent show, funny, creative, and enjoyable, but there were also other years... Despite everything, the activity continued every year. And suddenly, this year, a significant idealistic group of twelfth grade students decided that this was enough. This year, they are working differently, creating something different, new.
""When they approached us, we rubbed our eyes. Bringing in a Torah scroll instead of a show? Surely this is a Purim stretch for the month of Tevet. It would be socially difficult for them to pass such a decision. And the money, from Len?
""But they were very serious. When they informed us that the book would be included in honor of the midrashiya graduates who fell in the Israeli wars, we cried. Thus, slowly the idea progressed and matured, and here we are approaching glorious days when the students will begin raising money, contacting the bereaved families, and making logistical preparations for the event.".
""As educators, we look at these wonderful students from the sidelines and say to ourselves: What levels is a student capable of reaching? What eternal decisions to sanctify the name of heaven, to gladden the heart of an orphan and a widow. How much we must believe in each and every student, that they have high souls, a part of God from above, that they are a ladder placed on earth and their head reaches heaven.".
""What is your role these days, dear parents? A. A big hug for your son. He will change the world. B. Be a partner in donations. We will update you about the fundraising. C. Come to the event with joy. With greetings, Rabbi Zvi Ezrachi (Rosh Yeshiva), Elad Shoval (CEO), Elyakim Shiovitz (School Principal).".
5.
The truth is that the invitation caused me mixed emotions. First of all, it is clear that the idea of introducing a Torah scroll organized by yeshiva students in memory of the students who fell in the service of God is an incredibly moving thing. Especially the fact that the idea came from the students. This shows a deep connection to the yeshiva, a connection to the first generations who studied there, a gratitude for the fallen, and of course a connection to the Torah. What is there to talk about.
I'm just wondering if this should come at the expense of the Purim presentation. Because in my personal experience, as mentioned, the Purim presentation has an important educational role in empowering students who are not at the center of activity and learning throughout the year.
But what, tell me, are the Purim plays in today's reality, as the midrashiya directors also hint at in their letter to parents, a complicated event whose educational harm probably outweighs its benefit? I've heard from quite a few institutions in recent years about the atmosphere, the language, the music, and especially the deep harm to staff members and students during the plays and skits. So, okay, fine, I understand. Cancel them. But I allow myself to hope that one day the world will be better.
What did the Sages say? "All the festivals will be canceled, but the days of Purim will never be canceled.".
Then, in the future, the students will produce both educational and creative Purim plays and Torah scrolls. And when that happens, I promise, without a vow, to organize a blessing video for you from Celeb, so that you can tie both events together and even connect them to this week's parasha.
• The column is published in the newspaper 'Bisheva''