Holy Joseph

Everyone who lived in Israel did not longly not admire the Israeli old men. This amazing breed, apparently, was bred by Hitler specifically to confirm his theory. Because these were not people. And super -enemy

For days, these Israeli old people sat on the street under the scorching sun at the cafes and drank a cup of a cup of strong coffee, spitting on pressure and cholesterol in the blood, biting with fat cakes, and a cigarette behind a cigarette. And they said, they said, they said. They told jokes, laughed, flirted. Communicated. And endlessly rejoiced at life. Almost all of them had a concentration camp on the left hand. And is it necessary to say that almost all of them, well, maybe, with the rarest exceptions, have not been sitting in these cafes for a long time? Do not drink their coffee, do not flirt and do not talk ...

Not a person

However, even for Israel, Joseph Katz was an old man special. Our friendship began with the fact that I accidentally found out that there was a wonderful person who offers new repatriates free assistance in Hebrew and in English. Both languages ​​were equally necessary for any any professional device. We met, and Joseph began to come to me Hebrew first several times a week, and then almost every day.

Joseph immediately told me that he is not a man. And very patiently and reasonably explained that after that throughout the history of mankind, and especially in the 20th century, people made each other in the name of religion and ideology, he simply does not consider it possible to belong to one biological appearance with them.

After all that people made each other, Joseph simply did not consider it possible for himself to belong to the same biological species with them

Our further long -term friendship showed that it was pure truth. Joseph was really not a man. He was an angel. The guardian angel sent to us from above.

Joseph was from Poland, born and raised in Vilna, and immigrated to Palestine in the 1930s. This saved him and relatives from the gas chamber. And he used to cope with the rest of the difficulties.

He managed to look elegant, although he never bought his clothes - he toned old things, as he said, "from the dead." But he wore them with chic.

One of the features of Joseph was his scrupulousness. Rather, he had such a kind heart that he was simply afraid to introduce students into expenses. He wandered around the city from the student to the student all day, half -starved, did not spend money on himself, but he resolutely refused treats, since he did not consider himself the right to eat “poor immigrants”. Only over time I managed to lull his vigilance: I began to slowly treat him with homemade pies, which he was obliged to try out of politeness.

In all possible languages

Joseph sincerely considered himself a complete loser. In fact, he was a respected editor, worked half his life in the newspaper Yediot Ahronot (though he called his newspaper a “newspaper for idiots”, which followed from its name), and a member of the Union of Israeli journalists. He also published several collections of poems.

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Joseph possessed an amazing sense of humor and loved to play with words, and in all kinds of languages. We could not find out exactly how many languages ​​we knew Joseph. It was known that the most “relatives” for him were Polish and Yiddish, on which he wrote poetry. At the same time, Joseph graduated from the German gymnasium, and, as he always said modestly, German was one of his strongest languages. Well, he took possession of all other European languages ​​either in childhood, as it was with French, or already in adulthood according to his own method. He took Diges of books in the languages ​​that he already knew, and on those that he wanted to learn, and simply read them in parallel until the new language was firmly absorbed. Joseph claimed that his method works without fail.

When I needed to take a course at the university, the purpose of which was to read texts in Aramaic, I asked Joseph if he knew him by chance. Of course, Joseph “accidentally” knew Aramaic, which helped me a lot, quickly dragging me to pass the course.

Of the numerous languages ​​that he knew, according to his own statement, the weakest was Russian, on which he spoke very rarely (so as not to seduce immigrants from Russia and not distract them from the study of Hebrew), but which he, according to my observations, knew in the subtleties.

When I'm sad, I sing

In those days, I was sad from everything that was happening in my life. Each time, taking me in sorrow, Joseph was perplexed: how can you be sad? “When I am sad, I sing,” he said and sang funny Russian ditties or hooligan songs for Yiddish, Polish or Hebrew.

Joseph did not give in to despondency not because there were no reasons for this. There were reasons, but he constantly pulled himself out of a bad mood by helping others and entertained them. One of the ways to combat a bad mood for him was ... the dances that he went to with his girlfriend, German writer Norhen. Norchen lived in Israel for about 50 years, but, like many other German intellectuals, she spoke poorly in Hebrew and wrote books only in German. Norhen was rather decrepit, which completely did not prevent her from dressing, flirting and jealous of Joseph to all his young students.

At first, Norchen was very jealous of me, but once she began to bronchitis, and my husband offered to put her banks brought from Russia. The husband came to Norcheen and shook her so much with his art that she has since called him only “Herr Doctor”. And then I became Frau Doctor. Norcheen sometimes called me and shyly asked if Herr doctor was too busy and whether he could be disturbed for cans.

The Englishman is to blame for everything

Joseph was poor as a church mouse, but called himself a "gentleman with independent means." This meant that he received a small pension, that is, he did not depend on anyone.
Seeing our weapons then, Joseph invented some kind of rich Englishman who allegedly left him a significant amount, ordering it to use it to help Russian aliyah. We were beyond poverty, so any help seemed (and was) semolina.

It did not even occur to us to question the existence of a rich Englishman, especially since Joseph always grumbled very believably, called Zhadina, complained that he gave little money and so on. Periodically, Joseph described the Englishman in bright colors, they say, so rich, and gives so little money and only for educational needs. This was the main condition - Joseph came to new immigrants, talked with them for a long time and found out what books they needed. Basically then these were English and Hebrew dictionaries, children's school textbooks and notebooks that cost crazy money, as well as textbooks necessary for passing professional exams.

The book of poems “The victim of the God of Love” Yoshi Katz; "Return to the Garden" Yoshi Katz (price 4 lira); Photo by Joseph Katz, taken by one of his students, the end of the 90s; Portraits of Joseph Katz and the author of this article made by a pencil by the famous Russian artist Yuri Valentinovich Ivanov photo: From a personal archive

All our friends received dictionaries and textbooks from Joseph, this was incredible help and really strongly influenced the further course of our lives. We can safely say that against a general dysfunctional background in 1990-1991, everyone to whom Joseph helped Hebrew and English took place professionally. We all knew that you can come to Joseph and ask him for money for a textbook and he would not refuse. It was believed that in extreme cases he would ask for an English greedy.

I didn’t even have time to ask for anything. Since Joseph came to us almost every day, we very quickly have a completely necessary for us, dear and the most solid Hebrew-Russian dictionary at that time.

Joseph also quickly persuaded me to take money and children's textbooks, however, I did not deny long, such a difficult situation was such a difficult situation, and began to look closely how he could help me.

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My youngest daughter was then engaged in ballet and presented serious hopes. She was hardworking and responsible girl, and we gave the last money for her ballet. But despite the fact that I myself sewed and sutured her costumes with sparkles, there was a catastrophically lacked money.

Joseph was a demanding teacher, completely uncompromising regarding Leni. There was no better reward for him than diligence of students. Joseph, although he constantly scolded me, and called his most “unsuccessful project”, loved very much. At some point, he found me with a needle and a thread in his hands and tears, because I tried to somehow build ballet slippers to the child and I did not succeed.

Having corrected the glasses, Joseph began to scold the Englishman violently, they say, the Canal, the help of ballet education was not provided for, and to reason loudly with himself whether the ballet training is learning as such, and therefore, is it possible to consider ballet slippers in education ...

Quickly persuading yourself that one pair of ballets is equivalent to two dictionaries (both in price and in general education), Joseph opened the wallet and handed me the right amount.

He faced an urgent task: to help in a very short time as many people as possible, having meager means

Probably today this episode may seem trivial. I even once heard from one elderly person from Russia that Joseph thus "earned cheaper popularity." But you need to understand that, firstly, Joseph was completely indifferent, someone will appreciate his actions or not, and secondly, he was facing an unfulfilled and at the same time an urgent task: to help in a very short time as many people as possible, having meager means. And in this sense, he looked like any righteous of this world. The only thing that really upset him was that he does not have time to do more.

Means of the gentleman

I learned about the same as this “gentleman with independent means” had this “gentleman”, only many years later, when I accidentally jumped to Joseph for some kind of book I needed and saw the conditions in which he lives.

It turned out that he shot some kind of terrible hut with three more old people who also had a chronically lacking money in a terrible area. My then removable den was a real palace compared to Joseph's dwelling!

Joseph was a very observant, witty and easily treated life. Regarding our then housing, he told such a story, for example.

When he arrived in Palestine, it was almost impossible to remove a separate bed. Not just there was no money, but there were no beds, so the immigrants took off the beds by the clock.

Joseph in poverty could not afford to take off the bed at night, so he shot the daytime “bed” watches at some rich lucky one who slept at night in this bed.

Joseph thoroughly hid his age. According to our estimates, he was good for eighty. But as far as Joseph was eighty, we understood only a few years later, when, running around the city around the city in a terrible heat and climbing high stairs without an elevator, he was somehow pierced and went to the hospital with something very serious.

Then my friend and I rushed to visit him and terribly annoyed him by taken aback, with a dropper and in a night shirt, and not in an elegant suit. He with a deft maneuver distracted our attention from his health, ousted us from the ward to the corridor, where, already, gracefully leaning on a dropper with wheels, like on a cane, he began to walk with us and entertaining a witty conversation.

We woke up, only leaving the hospital and realizing that instead of sitting at the head of a sick person and expressing sorrow, we made a pleasant motio, received a charge of vivacity and good mood.

When Joseph died, his grateful students who were already well-arranged at that time, who turned out to be a huge number in Tel Aviv, promptly raised money for a monument. But what was their surprise when, having arrived with money in the cemetery, they learned that the monument was already ready and did not accept the money for it. There were much more people who wanted to honor the memory of a wonderful old man than money needed.

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In addition, at the funeral it turned out that Joseph not only helped immigrants, but helped people and their children, with whom he was engaged in English. And many of these children later came to the cemetery and said that without Joseph would not be lawyers and doctors.

For many years it was very painful and difficult for me to write about Joseph, because for me he is still alive, he with me always supports me in difficult times, singing hooligan ditties in Russian, Polish and Yiddish.

Joseph was largely a child, impractical and ridiculous. He did not like the Establishment. I did not like boredom. Especially deadly boredom. But he loved us. And we loved him. I know for sure that my children did not doubt for a second that Joseph was their kind grandfather. When he came, they, like small monkeys, hung on it with the shouts of “yoshi” and believed that they were called, “Ziskale” and “pizza” (the one that was older, from the point of view of Joseph, is sweeter, and the one that is smaller, “tiny”).

Joseph stayed with us. His presence is always felt when two people who knew him are seen. Even accidentally meeting people somewhere on a “shipment”, for example, in Toronto, I learned that if they lived in Tel Aviv in the 90s, Joseph also helped them. These people will not remember who was then the prime minister. But Joseph's jokes and stories will inevitably come up in a conversation, and faces faces, smiles will play.

Because Joseph for me and other repatriates quickly and imperceptibly did much more than the entire Ministry of Absorption combined.
One. Old. Poor. Saint.

And these are two poems by Joseph Katz in the translation of his grateful student Olga Levitskaya.

The victim of the God of Love

There is no other God except the God of Love.
And the offering to him is the body of my lover.
I will make him a victim from time to time to the altar.
And I will pray to the Holy of Holy -
Leaning in reverence and swaying
Go ahead and back. Like a pendulum.

All interested parties

I am awarded the present
That my beloved is the light of my life,
The beloved is beautiful.
Amazing and sweet so sweet.
That you can’t find another one,
Though looking around the world
Including other planets.
And anyone who cheer her up,
Who will delight her heart
Who will make her soul strings ring,
Worthy of the best praise
And recognition -
From the lower signature.

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