Tag: humor

RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S RABBINICAL REFLECTION #151 (12/24/17): Jerusalem

(Aired Dec. 23, 2017 on Dave’s Gone By.  Youtube: https://youtu.be/nC3MIiTjsjo)

Shalom Dammit!  This is Rabbi Sol Solomon with a Rabbinical Reflection for the week of December 24, 2017.

When you think of Israel, what’s the first place that comes to mind? Haifa? Jaffa? Ramat Gan? No, shlemiel, we think of Jerusalem. The holy city. Home of the ancient temple and the Wailing Wall. The place Jews have lived and worshipped for centuries. The site of both the Israeli Parliament and the Holocaust Museum, not to mention the markets, the Old City, the zoo, and my retired gastroenterologist. All are part of the Jewish fabric of this Jewish city in the Jewish state of Israel.

Did I say Jewish? Goddamn right, I did. Israel, the itty-bitty country that has been the unofficial Jewish homeland for 5,000 years and the official one since 1948, has a capital, and that capital is Jerusalem. Bill Clinton said it, Dubya Bush said it, Obama said it. Donald Trump said it but, unlike the others, acted upon it. And of course, the left wing goes into an orgy of self-righteous, ignorant misery. Many among them are self-hating Jews who won’t be happy until the Arabs push us into the Dead Sea. Or, as I’m sure the Muslims would prefer, push us into the sea, dead.

But here’s an example. If the governor of New York State wants to move the capital from Albany to Rochester, is it a big deal? No. It’s still New York. If Colorado wants to move its capital from Denver to Fort Collins—big whoop. The same goes for Israel. If the United States wants to move its embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, why not? 

Jerusalem is not occupied, it’s not rented, it’s not on a 100-year lease; it’s a city in the Jewish homeland just like Paris is for France, like Rome is for Italy, like the Candy Kingdom was for the Land of Ooo. We can all despise Kim Jong Un and wish him dead and disarmed, but even then, we don’t tell him the capital of North Korea shouldn’t be in Pyongyang.

Hostile Arab nations and ignorant assuagers of terrorists have no business telling Eretz Yisroel what do with its own land. I can get along great with my next-door neighbor, but she better not tell me how to paint my living room. And she certainly can’t move into my bedroom . . . unless her tits are spectacular. And with all due respect to Mahmoud Abbas, his tits are unimpressive at best.

I have said time and time again on these Rabbinical Reflections, that Israel is a teeny-weeny country, the only land in the world that is specifically earmarked for the tormented Jewish nation. We are surrounded by enemies, and in world history, any place we’ve gone that has been nice to us can turn on a dime—look at Germany, Spain, Russia, CNN. Even the United States, the greatest country in the world and the best second home Jews have ever had, offers no guarantee. With Donald Trump and his half-Jewish family, we’ve got a friendly administration that puts its matzoh where its mouth is and will protect us against the Arafats and Bin Ladens and Al-Assads. But a president lasts four, maybe eight years. And who knows what comes after? Had Jimmy Carter been reelected, he would have cut Israel in half and let the PLO bomb us into Olam HaBah. We all know how well that peanut-picking putz dealt with Muslim extremists.

I have also explained in my sermons, and on my TV program, and in my highly acclaimed easily tour-able stage show that the Arabs own millions of miles of land spread out over 22 countries— not to mention countries in Africa and Asia whose populations are mostly Islamic. So when Palestinians say they have nowhere to go but Gaza or the West Bank or Jerusalem, they’re full of hummus. They could go anywhere if their Arab brothers and sisters would only let them. But no. Palestinians demand the one place they can’t have. And the Arabs send terrorists and lethal commercial airplanes into our country because we refuse to fall onto their carpets and bow before their shariah law.

And for those of you who say that Jerusalem should be an international city, a place for everyone because so many religions have sacred spaces there, I say, sure! Jerusalem already IS an international city. When has Israel prevented a Christian from stopping by to retrace Jesus’s mythical childhood and death march? And every year, millions of Muslims peacefully worship at the Dome of the Rock or the Al Aqsa Mosque, or the amazing falafel stand just outside Beit Hanina. And if Israeli police check the Mohammedans’ bags for explosives, wouldn’t you? Turn over Jerusalem, or half of Jerusalem, to the Palestinians, and within one generation, mark my word (or my many words), the place will be off-limits to outsiders, not to mention dangerous and probably mixed up in some Arab civil war.

So shut up, liberal lokshen heads, and up yours, United Nations. If calling Jerusalem Israel’s capital hurts the so-called peace process, well, the Arabs had 70 years to make nice. Instead they made trouble—all over the world and with no end in sight. 128 countries in the UN General Assembly think America has crossed a line simply by acting on the true, the fair, and the obvious? Fine, let them live without American money for awhile. Next time there’s famine in Bangladesh, or flooding in Indonesia, or a shortage of ladyboy hookers in Thailand, see how much aid they get from Lebanon or Sudan. Maybe they’ll airlift you a scorpion and a hundred Korans.

In the meantime, thank you, Donald Trump, for doing what’s right and what has been right from the beginning. And don’t let Roger Waters, Danny Glover, the aptly named Lupe Fiasco, Emma Thompson, Samantha Bee, and other celebrity know-nothings sway you with their blather. If these Hollywood types were so concerned about partitions, why didn’t they put one in front of Harvey Weinstein’s dick?

Oh, I know. Harvey Weinstein’s Jewish. And I’m not proud of that. But I am proud of our president, and considering that so many other things he and the Republicans have done are stupid, scary, and crazy, I’d call this oasis of sanity— you should pardon the expression—a Christmas miracle.

This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches, in Great Neck, New York, and maybe someday in Yerushalaim shel zahav.

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