Posted on Facebook 24 July 2024
Whoever Yoni got into a conversation with, no matter what it was about, by the end of the conversation he was convinced by their argument. Whether it was a brief small talk with a taxi driver about potholes and the physical state of the roads or an intense political conversation regarding the future of the Middle East, he always walked away with a new perspective and a new conviction. He was a hitchhiker of ideas, picking them up at every corner and every encounter of his life.
Yoni is not a stupid guy; on the contrary, he is an accomplished man, a trained lawyer, a desired keynote speaker, and a successful international businessman. Nor is he naive; he was unfallible and undeceivable. No matter how many people tried to cheat him in business, and how many friends tried to scam him for fun, he always picked it up in advance. Surprise birthday parties were always a failure, like the time he scheduled a surprise board meeting on his 40th birthday and handed out dividends to all attendees in appreciation for skipping his own surprise party. Or the time he was already sitting at the restaurant table when his family members arrived at his surprise 50th birthday.
Yoni is a likable guy, with good manners and great listening capabilities that did not go unnoticed by anyone. His convictions came due to his fundamental belief that every person genuinely wants good. He was also a man of action, as he believed ideology without action is merely an embitterment, and for Jews to complain they don’t need an ideology. When Yoni identified positive action, he would jump on the wagon; when he identified negative actions, he would jump off. This made all the difference and led to many strange situations in his life.
Once, during a stroll with his family in the Ben Shemen forest, he came across a group of foragers cooking their morning treasures. Not only did it charm him, but it also hit him in the stomach – literally, as they fed him to satisfaction. They turned out to be a group of vegan activists, and Yoni, listening, was entranced, and signed up for the next meeting. A meeting that led to a donation, which led to a board member position, which led to him lobbying for animal rights. And yet, this did not stop him from supporting the livestock association in their campaign to save natural pastures, nor the dairy farmers and poultry agricultural industry in their endeavors to make ends meet.
He listened to the bus driver complaining about the too many vehicles on the bad roads, to the Rabbi that convinced him for the first time in his life at the age of fifty-four to wrap tefillin, about the importance of learning Torah, to his gay partner about the need for the law to approve surrogacy for gay couples, to his neighbor about the need for an efficient police force to keep their streets safe, and to the General of the Army who time and again highlighted the acute need for more soldiers.
He listened to his friends during their weekly outing, discussing the need for affordable housing for their kids, to the owner of his favorite restaurant complaining about the cost of products, rent, and labor, while behind his back he overheard a social worker advocating for the hard-working class and a unicorn business owner thrashing out the need for non-regulated free trade.
He tuned into late-night programs debating the settler about the importance of settling the entire land and the peacenik about the need to withdraw Israeli presence from the occupied territories.
One late August, when the country was in turmoil regarding the possibility that the school year would not open, walking past the protesters on both sides of the street, he couldn’t help but overhear the parents voicing their frustrations about the myriad problems plaguing the educational system. Their complaints were incessant, ranging from outdated curricula to overcrowded classrooms. On the other hand, teachers were striking, loudly decrying their disgraceful, humiliating, and shameful working conditions. They spoke passionately about inadequate compensation, the lack of resources, and the immense hardship they faced daily in trying to provide quality education under such dire circumstances.
Everyone had his ear, and everyone walked away with the sense that he was listening and was on their side. And as we already mentioned, he was not just a listener; he was a man of action – and he acted, even on conflicting issues.
Yoni became well-known, not in the sense of having his face plastered on billboards and bus stops, nor through interviews on prime-time TV and radio shows. His popularity was of a different sort – the kind that made him known by the people wherever he went.
One day, following a series of indecisive national elections that had dominated the country for over two years, a black car pulled up to his home. Two members of the secret service, dressed in black suits and equipped with personal weapons and earpieces, knocked on his door. They requested to have a conversation focused solely on getting to know him. They delved into every aspect of his life, from family and professional background to financial statements, health status, military history, friends and acquaintances, interests, hobbies, political and social involvement. Not a single detail escaped their scrutiny.
After a brief whispered phone call in another room, there was a knock on the door. They opened it, and the supreme court justice, responsible for the national voting committee, entered and took a seat. Without waiting for any response, he looked Yoni in the eyes and said, “Shalom, Yoni. I hope you recognize me. We have a bit of a situation – you have been elected Prime Minister.”
It may have come as a shock, considering he hadn’t run for office. However, after thorough verification, it was confirmed that every ballot cast had his name on it – 100% consensus. Democracy had spoken; he had been chosen by the people.
After two four-year terms of tirelessly saying yes to every cause, in keeping with his nature as a man of conviction and action, he gracefully retired. With a smile on his face, he returned to his private home, changed into pajamas, climbed into bed, and peacefully passed away.
A month later, in the old cemetery in Tel Aviv, his tombstone was erected, bearing the inscription: “Here lies Yoni.” And from that day on, the country fell back into chaos. No one remembered Yoni, nor his term, nor his actions.
