A Reason to Party

IN the late nineties, when I was newly married and living in Yerushalayim, I would walk home from the Mir through the Arzei HaBira park. These were the headiest days of the Shas party, as upstart Sephardim shook off decades of oppression and inequity, and their political party won too many seats and too much power for anyone to ignore it.

One night during election season, there was a Shas rally in that park, and the vibe and atmosphere was like nothing I had ever seen, pounding music and leaping bodies and full-throated cheers and a hysterical frenzy as Maran — Chacham Ovadiah Yosef — approached. When he took the mic to speak, there was a physical wave of reverence and loyalty, Maran’s army ready to do whatever it takes.

A yungerman came out of the Arzei shul as I walked by, a crusty litvishe type who had no use for any of it, the theatrics, the commotion, the holy-war tone of the whole rally.

He saw my wide eyes and told me, “Listen, heim osim hakol chagigot, they make everything into parties, and who doesn’t love a party?” He muttered a few more things and went back in to learn.