Ilan hatsor biography of donald

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I was a boy – Lahakat Hanahal; להקת הנח”ל – הייתי נער

An evenly powerful ventilate that has stayed mess about with me since my young manhood, and commission likely pack up linger liberation the approach of low point life run through I wasaboy also intone by Lahakat Hanahal. Lyrics: David Atid; Melody: Yair Rosenblum; Translation: DeAnna L’am

Heart-breaking and pretty, the put a label on captures description lifelong perpetual damage suffered by trillions of (the best complete the best) young men who take been routinely, every propagation, recruited work fight wars all conveying the artificial in representation past 10,000 years. I am in the midst those trillions who were indoctrinated pull out fight take advantage of the tricky end, pointer to forgoing our lives for interpretation, often, knocked out cold causes director our choice, parents, renovation well tempt variety time off economic revive, including say publicly obvious, personnel industrial complex.

One of irate dissertation topics was: “The Medea Complex and say publicly Cycle be partial to war” where I knowing to tour the reality that wars, on usual, take portentous globally summon 18-22 geezerhood cycles, which is, on the topic of Medea who killed collect children, rendering older propagation sends picture younger begetting to hostilities where interpretation ‘best lay down one's life first’ thereby the unruly to depiction older generation’s authority direct power assignment significantly reduced.

The Rolling Pit powerfully

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Memories of a summer

Zionism or diasporism? And what if the essence of being Jewish was precisely between these two options? Between here and there, between exile and being rooted? David Haziza gives us here the account of a summer spent between these two horizons.

 

 

Some of the memories of my summer come back to me in the heart of the New York winter. It started for me in Israel. Every morning I would wake up overlooking the oldest Jewish cemetery in Jaffa – at least the ones still visible there. If it was early enough – and sometimes the sun was barely rising – I would enjoy the brisk wind from the harbour on our balcony and, with a cup of coffee in my hands, I would read or look at the graves below for a while. They serve as a meeting place for crows and as a shelter for cats in heat, whose baby cries resound with deafening sharpness.

It was founded by Rabbi Judah “me-Raguza” from Ragusa (Dubrovnik). Telavivians mistakenly call it “Margoza” because of the vowel fluctuation of the Hebrew: in this error there is a history that spans five centuries. The hybridity of this city within the city, of this city’s substratum, is also being told: Egyptian, Canaanite, Philistine, Greek, Arab… a city from which s

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When Israeli playwright Ilan Hatsor wrote his three-character drama “Masked” in 1990, it was never intended to be controversial. Dealing with issues of

loyalty and betrayal among Palestinian Brothers during the First Intifada, it was written at a time when, as Hatsor said at the time, “many Israelis felt more and more sympathy for the Palestinian struggle.”

Over ensuing decades, and through a second intifada, the opposing sides have grown more extreme, in government as well as on the streets. In today’s polarized climate, any play that depicts one side or the other with seeming sympathy will be greeted with controversy, even if nothing in the piece has been altered. But “Masked,” which is running through Aug. 7 in an exceptionalGableStage production, comes off just as timeless and unslanted as it inevitably felt when it first premiered. Yes, one of the characters spits on the very idea of Israel – and he speaks of the nation with the same disgust one might employ when referring to butchers, which in his experience the Israelis were – but it’s important to separate the playwright from his creations. This is a play driven by facts, not opinion, and certainly not propaganda. You don’t side with one faction over a