2001 - United Synagogue Youth

ShalhevetMore Pressing Concernsby Josh KipneesPhoto by Josh Rudawitz.There were more pressing concerns thanthe threat of scorpions, he said, than the dust cloggingmy nostrils or the blood oozing down myelbow. There was no time now to contemplatethese matters. There would be time, as there is atime for everything, but now nightfall threatenedthe sun-dazzled sky with twilight. “Follow me,”commanded the cloaked figure, a silhouette amidstthe technicolored backdrop, as he led us to a plateauin the hilly sands. The shadow turned andspoke, his voice echoing against the emptiness.“One thing you all must promise me is that youwill not speak. It is most important that you remainsilent, so that you may hear the desert.”Hear the desert? What a joke, I thought.This guy was a few cards short of a full deck. Thesnickering I heard behind me assured me I wasnot alone in my beliefs. After all, what was I toexpect from a guy named “Sum-Sum” who livedas a recluse in the Negev, the driest section ofIsrael; a guy who boasted of having improvised ona lack of toilet paper in the desert, who inspectedanimal droppings for a living. And the incessantlyblinking light of a cell phone emanating from hispants pocket really added to his credibility. Whata phony. This guy had no more business leading usthrough a desert than would Bill Gates. Filled withcynicism, I shuffled across the desert plain whilethe mountain of sand that had collected in myshoes continued to scrape against my aching feet.When we approached the clearing, theguide assembled us in a circle, then insisted we sitdown. Reluctantly, we all squatted or kneeled onthe ground, unwilling to have sand amass in thefew crevices where it had not already. Amidst aquiet hum of pessimistic chatter, the guide beganhis soliloquy, cool and collected, as if he had spokento us thousands of times before.“Welcome to my home,” he announced ina heavy Mid-Eastern accent. “I feel as though Ihave been a kind host, as I have prepared yourmeals for you and shared my home with you. Butnow, it is your turn. You must show respect toboth me and to my home, the desert, for the desertis where my Lord resides.”Almost all of the whispers had quieted,except for the soft whisper of wind twirling sandinto the air. Sum-Sum continued, speaking of theimportance of respecting one’s surroundings. Thewords of this gruff man, whose body was now indistinguishablefrom the darkness, struck a chordin my mind. I found myself beginning to understandwhat he was trying to say, until he added,“My god’s name is Fee-di-dee. This is how I honorhim.” He proceeded to perform for us a ridiculousdance, complete with twirls and grunts. Heimplored us to follow. Seeing as how my grouphad just been transformed into idiotic monkeys, Iwould have thought we were on Candid Camerahad I not known better. Where there had been asense of deep spirituality and quiet harmony withnature just a few minutes ago, now all that remainedwere laughing, raving primates.I lost it then. The prospect of me listeningto this nonsense any further sickened me. I felt34