When I moved to my charming little garden apartment in Jerusalem, ready to forge a new life in the Holy City, it was my friend Hillel Neuer who introduced me, so to speak, to my new neighborhood.
He walked me through the streets and alleyways, teaching me about the history of the street I was now going to be calling home. He shared the tale of why Ussishkin St. was changed from Yehuda Halevi St., as I wrote to you in this very column a few years back.
For pleasure, Hillel would read about Jerusalem and her alleyways in the library of Achad Ha’am across from where I lived. It was he who introduced me to the book Yerushalayim u-Netivotehah, getting me more intimately acquainted with that city that I love so much.
Aside from the historical and geographic dimensions of my new neighborhood, Hillel introduced me to its gastronomic dimension.
I hadn’t realized I was living in classic Jerusalem food territory until Hillel explained:
“You know, you live down the street from the best falafel place in Israel.”
I had no idea!
Hillel walked me to Shalom Falafel and explained the true and famous test for a good falafel — buying the falafel balls on their own, seeing how they fare without the warm pita and all the extra fixins.
And so, he purchased a little brown bag stained by the grease of the falafel fritters. We squeezed into the literal hole in the wall that Shalom Falafel is, and tasted. And tested.
Oh my, did these chickpea concoctions pass the test. Oh yes. And with flying colors. This was a falafel purist’s heaven. Classic, crispy falafel balls, soft and just the right amount of spicy on the inside. Mmmmm — yum!
We walked on our way, munching these crisp little Middle Eastern treats, this time around the corner to a little grape arbor, a covered porch with terra cotta tiles. This, he informed me, is the best Italian restaurant in Jerusalem. Literally, another hole in the wall.
But what a hole and what a wall!
I remember the copper coffee machine preparing the cappucinos we ordered was so loud we could hardly hear each other’s words. In his usual way, Hillel made some kind of witty joke about it.
We continued to walk around, Hillel with his running commentary. Hillel made sure I knew about Marzipan rugelach — the yeastiest, warmest, chocolotiest little sugary rolled pastries — also found nearby at the Machane Yehuda souk.
On this walk Hillel told me about Haim Sabbato, his former yeshiva dean, who authored a best selling novel with the double entendre title of Tium Kavanot — since translated into English as “Adjusting Sights.” Since then, I have read a few of Sabbato’s moving and evocative novels.
Hillel teases me. That’s just what he does. When he sees me holding my siddur, he jokes how it’s my favorite prop. When he hears of another newly married couple moving to a heavily populated Orthodox suburb, he jokes how they are making aliyah to T-Neck.
It’s always fun with Hillel around, a volley of keen, witty and sparkling repartee that puts a smile on your face. He is incisive, savvy and sharp — but with a softness. He calls himself “Hilster” and “Uncle Hillel.” He has nick names for everyone. I’m T-La.
On 9/11, it was Hillel who called me and told me about the Twin Towers about 20 minutes after they were attacked . . . collapsed. If I remember correctly, he was at The Hebrew University when he called me.
Aside from sharing his vast knowledge about Jerusalem, literature, good food — and giving tours of their new neighborhood to friends — Hillel was working as a corporate lawyer at a prestigious firm in New York City, at the time.
But he was searching for more. For his true calling. At one point Hillel considered becoming a scholar and pursuing a career in academia.
We joke that he still owes me dinner for me picking up a letter of recommendation on his behalf from Israeli Supreme Court Justice Menachem Elon, sending it out just in the nick of time from Israel to the US, for an academia-related application Hillel was under deadline for at the time.
Well, my dear reader, Hillel has found his calling. You may not have known it, but all this time, Hillel has been out there, a voice in the crowd for you, for me, for all of us.
Director of an organization called UNWatch, Hillel works tirelessly on behalf of human rights victims, on behalf of the Jewish people, on behalf of Israel.
I remember when the opportunity arose. Initially, Hillel was going to be moving to Geneva for just two years. At the time, I had not heard of this important, but young, organization.
Today, UNWatch is everywhere.
Hillel has grown this important organization’s reputation around the world, a living conscience for our society.
A hall of mirrors of sorts, if you will.
An organization that makes it difficult for evil or misguidedness or empty political platitudes to hide, by holding up a mirror, reflecting the hypocrisy and then the reality, of organizations, such as the UN.
Under provocation by Iranian delegations, and other representatives of various dictatorships, Hillel, dignified, stands his ground, unflinching, all the while with composure, patience, grace and aplomb — exposing the evil and hypocrisy of these respective regimes.
Yes, Hillel is the lawyer turned diplomat. As it turns out, the ultimate diplomat. A diplomat among dictators, but a diplomat with a twist. Hillel speaks his mind. Exactly.
Under pressure, Hillel remains the man with a mission. He has become an effective messenger, with his words, in his way, moored by the truth of his mission and his message to the world.
He is constantly working on seeking answers to hard, complex questions. All the while — working on behalf of the lives of the victim.
Last week many of you may have “met” Hillel by following the events of Durban II.
As this hypocritical and hate-filled assembly convened, all too ironically and symbolically, on Holocaust Memorial Day, Hillel of UNWatch, together with other NGOs, got together hosting a counter-conference, the Geneva Summit of Human Rights, Tolerance, and Democracy, giving a platform to human rights victims from around the world.
I don’t remember exactly how it was born, me, in jest, nicknaming him “Hillel the Elder.” But maybe there is something to it after all, Hillel rising to the stature of our ancestor’s spirit and becoming a living “Hillel the Elder.”
So, thank you, Hillel, for being a voice for us all. You have my admiration and appreciation, so I wanted my readers to know. G-d bless you and may you go from strength to strength!
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