Ezzes of Estis: What does this mean for the Jews?

Are the Jews doing well? – This is bad for the Jews because no one wants them to do well. Are the Jews doing badly? – That would be good for the Jews if things weren’t so bad for them.

Beseder, all right, as far as I’m concerned. But isn’t it better in Germany than elsewhere? Hasn’t anyone been processed in Germany? Didn’t they clean up in Germany? Didn’t they stop in Germany?

»Fascism is being fought in Germany!«

“What does this mean for the Jews?”

»This is good for the Jews! Unless they’re no longer alive…”

Of course things are better in Germany than anywhere else. Except that things are no worse elsewhere than in Germany.

»We are working on a culture of remembrance in Germany!«

“What does this mean for the Jews?”

»This is good for the Jews! Unless they’re still alive…”

Oh, Germany! Of course it is better in Germany. In Germany, Israel’s existence is a reason of state! Although on deeper reflection it might of course seem stranger than it is strange on superficial inspection: Israel is the only state whose existence in another state requires its own reasoning. The other states simply exist.

But in Germany, Israel’s existence is not just a matter of state. It’s much more than that: in Germany, the existence of Israel is even a source of resentment towards the state! Israel is under attack? This is bad for the Jews. Israel defends itself? This is bad for the Jews. There is a right-wing government in Israel? This is bad for the Jews. There are protests against the right-wing government in Israel? This is bad for the Jews. In Israel, store clerk Tomer scratched his toches with his left index finger during his lunch break? This is particularly bad for the Jews.

And this is particularly worse for the Jews in Germany. Why? Because Tomer scratches himself where everyone in Germany itches the most, and I don’t mean in Toches – but in Israel.

I wish everyone would scratch their own toches. At second glance it may seem more contradictory than it is paradoxical at first glance. But if everyone scratches their own toches, the other people’s toches itch even less.

What does the Toches actually mean for the Jews? The Toches must mean something. Because everything means something, the Talmud already knows that and the Kabbalah knows that even more, and my uncle Shimon also knows that, even if he is actually my uncle Aaron or my aunt Riwa.

The stars mean something and the candles mean something, the mountains mean something, the streams mean something, the horses mean something and the snails mean something and the grasses mean something and the glasses also mean something – and especially everything that looks through the glasses penetrates, means something.

Most of the time everything means something different than what it is. The numbers mean words, the words mean numbers, the food means stories, stories mean warnings, the past means future, the future means worry.

Everything means something different. And as if that wasn’t confusing enough, everything not only means something different than what it is, but also something else again depending on where it is.

The flame of the candle above the pages of the book means the light of the teaching, but the flame in the pages of the book means the end of the teaching. The lenses on the nose mean reading, but the lenses under the feet mean running. The star in the evening sky means Shabbos, but star on your door means anything but Shabbos.

For us Jews, everything means something, and if something means nothing, then that means something.

Some people want us to believe that nothing means anything: what is said does not mean what is meant, what is meant does not mean what is understood. The words mean nothing, the numbers mean nothing, stories are not warnings, the past is past, pogrom does not mean pogrom. They don’t want to know what things mean, and they certainly don’t want to know what things mean for the Jews.

But for us Jews everything means something, my Uncle Shimon would know that even if he existed, and even my Schwipp sister-in-law would know that if the word meant something.

Ezzes von Was

Magnus Terhorst

Alexander Estis, a freelance Jew without a permanent address, writes so much schmontz in this column that it will make you sick to your stomach.

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