During Iftach Leibovich’s childhood in Jerusalem, the family would play a board game called Havila Higiya (“A Package Arrived”). The premise was this: You receive a letter stating that something reached the post office and to come pick it up. Along the way, you confront obstacles to attaining the package: missing identification papers, needing a new photo for the ID and so on.
The game was all too realistic for Israelis used to the daily struggles of accomplishing basic tasks in a bureaucracy-laden society.
“It was the stupidest game and the most brilliant game,” said Leibovich.
Havila Higiya was created by Ephraim Kishon, still acclaimed as the greatest humorist, satirist and social commentator in Israel’s history. Kishon, who died in 2005, was born 100 years ago this month.
Ephraim Kishon in 1966, photo by Boris Karmi, the Meitar Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel
One of his legacies is that Leibovich is the artistic director of the Israel Comedy Festival in Honor of Ephraim Kishon, a week-long celebration held each August at Jerusalem’s Incubator Theater.
The event includes lectures and stagings of Kishon’s work, along with contemporary comedic plays and stand-up appearances.
Experts tie Kishon’s keen observations of society, from the perspective of an average Israeli, to his being an outsider. Kishon was a Holocaust survivor from Hungary whose name — he was born Ferenc Hoffmann — was Hebraicized by a port official upon immigrating in 1949.
Chaim Topol and Esther Greenberg in the film Sallah Shabati, written and directed by Ephraim Kishon. From the Chaim Topol Archive, courtesy of the family and with the cooperation of the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage, the National Library of Israel and the University of Haifa (colorization by MyHeritage)
He quickly learned and mastered Hebrew and soon was penning columns in the language in local newspapers. He went on to write books and screenplays and make films. Two of the five movies he directed, Sallah Shabati (1964) and The Policeman (1971), which he also wrote and co-produced, earned Academy Award nominations as best foreign-language films.
A promotional poster for the 1971 Oscar-nominated Hebrew film The Policeman, written and directed by Ephraim Kishon and starring Shaike Ophir, the Jerusalem Cinematheque – Israel Film Archive Collection, available online via the NLI digital collection
Ephraim Kishon pictured with Shaike Ophir and wife at the premiere of the film The Fox in the Chicken Coop, May, 1978. Photo by Danny Gotfried, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel
The Family Book (titled in its English translations as My Family, Right or Wrong), Kishon’s 1977 collection of essays and fiction stories about home life during his early years in Israel, is said to be the second-most-purchased book in Hebrew after the Bible.
Topol and Kishon with the Golden Globe, Maariv, February 19, 1965, the Historical Jewish Press Collection at the National Library of Israel
Both Leibovich and Ziv Hermelin-Shadar — who at the festival hosted podcasts discussing each of the films screened daily, dubbed “Kishoncasts” — cited The Family Book as a key influence.
It was the first book Leibovich’s father gave him — the boy was about 13 — and, “from that, I became a big fan of Kishon,” he said.
Hermelin-Shadar was about 10 when he first read it. “It’s a book that’s very Jewish and very family-oriented,” he said. “It makes me laugh. Kishon, in his stories, is trying to live life, and other people are ruining it for him. He succeeds in capturing the wackiness … of Israeli society.”
Ephraim Kishon with Menachem Begin, Israel’s Prime Minister at the time, at the premiere of the film The Fox in the Chicken Coop, May, 1978. Photo by Danny Gotfried, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel
Such wackiness arose recently over a play scheduled for this summer’s festival. The play’s promotional poster unintentionally sparked a controversy Kishon might’ve enjoyed.
The poster shows the faces of three men and the play’s title, Naked. The word is meant as a metaphor for the show’s theme as a behind-the-scenes look at how a circus operates. No one is nude. But some Jerusalem residents presumed indecency and pressured the mayor’s office to withdraw its funding for the festival and to shut down the show. Leibovich wrote a long letter defending the work and stressing that no one appeared naked.
“It’s poetic that this happened at a Kishon festival,” he said. “To make a big deal about it was a farce. There was nothing for me to fight against because there was nothing to censor.”
The show’s three performances proceeded as scheduled.
Ephraim Kishon with Yitzhak and Leah Rabin, at the premiere of the film The Fox in the Chicken Coop, May, 1978. Photo by Danny Gotfried, the Dan Hadani Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israely
Kishon’s accomplishments went hand-in-hand with insecurity. Alongside placards of his films and plays on his office’s walls appeared articles written by critics.
Ephraim Kishon in his office, 1973. Photo by IPPA staff photgrapher, the Dan Hadani Archive, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel
“He felt he wasn’t appreciated. He wanted more love from critics,” said Hermelin-Shadar. “He was a great success, but felt that he wasn’t accepted here as [such].”
Following his father’s death at his summer home in Switzerland, Rafi Kishon was asked to develop a one-man show for Tel Aviv’s Cameri Theater. As a veterinarian, he’d spoken about animals on numerous television programs and was comfortable appearing before the camera. But writing and performing in the show, Ten Things You Didn’t Know About Ephraim Kishon, was extra-gratifying, he said.
He performs it monthly at the Cameri — it’s now titled Ephraim Kishon: Humor, Life and Films — and accepts private bookings from groups. The appearances involve screening movie clips and telling stories about his father.
“What I say is unique about Ephraim Kishon’s humor is that it unites Israelis of all types,” he explained.
“I take it as a compliment when I perform and people say, ‘The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.’ It’s a good feeling to walk in my father’s shoes.”
Ephraim Kishon in his office, 1971, photo by Boris Karmi, the Meitar Collection, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel
Leibovich, too, has walking in mind. For a Kishon festival, he’d like to organize an interactive version of Havila Higiya, with participants following the game’s instructions to traipse around Jerusalem in an effort, challenging as it promises to be, to pick up a package at the post office.
“I’ve dreamt of it,” he said, “since the first festival.”
Writer-editor Hillel Kuttler can be reached at hk@HillelTheScribeCommunications.com
From “Bourekas Films” to the Israel Prize: Menahem Golan’s Israeli Hollywood Story
It's been a decade since the passing of legendary film producer Menahem Golan. His remarkable career began with films poking fun at Israel's unique social fabric, but he would go on to work with the likes of Chuck Norris, Sylvester Stallone and Meryl Streep.
In 2005–06, Menahem Golan, a film mogul in Israel and later in the United States, sat down for a series of lengthy interviews.
“Once he started talking about cinema, his eyes lit up,” said Shmulik Duvdevani, a film professor who with a student conducted the interviews at Golan’s office in Tel Aviv and home in Jaffa.
The conversations totaled 15 hours and are part of a project, the Israeli Cinema Testimonial Database, documenting the early decades of the country’s film industry.
“You can call him the father of popular Israeli cinema, films meant for mass audiences: comedies, melodrama, action,” said Duvdevani, who teaches at Tel Aviv University and Jerusalem’s Sam Spiegel Film and Television School. “He helped to build the Israeli film industry.”
Menahem Golan directing the classic Israeli film Kazablan, 1973, photo by IPPA staff, the Dan Hadani Archive, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel
Golan began his career in Israeli theater, but discovered his calling as a movie director and producer in the 1960s and ‘70s in a genre known as “bourekas films” that depicted Ashkenazi and Sephardi characters engaged in ethnicity-based misunderstandings and conflict.
Few Israelis made any styles of movies then, and little appreciation — let alone funds — existed for high production values. Sound quality was so poor that subtitles were sometimes a necessity. Shots that belonged on the cutting-room floor remained in the film.
But the genre was “an important stage” in Israeli cinema’s development, said Rami Kimche, a professor at Ariel University and author of a 2023 English-language book, Israeli Bourekas Film: Their Origins and Legacy.
And while Golan, the son of immigrant parents from Poland, might not have intended to break social barriers with films portraying Mizrachi Jews, he recognized them as part of his ticket-buying audience.
“He was a businessman, a theater man, a producer. He was important because he was the first,” Kimche said.
Yehoram Gaon and other actors in character on the set of Kazablan, 1973, photo by IPPA staff, the Dan Hadani Archive, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel
Kazablan, a 1973 bourekas musical Golan directed based on a play and a previous film, was “a major, major production, definitely was groundbreaking and was the peak of his work,” said Isaac Zablocki, director of the New York-based Israel Film Center. Golan directed three other bourekas films: Fortuna, Aliza Mizrachi and Katz V’Carasso.
Golan’s best-known movie in the genre was one he produced: Sallah Shabati, starring Chaim Topol and directed by Ephraim Kishon. It garnered Israel’s first nomination for an Academy Award, in 1964, in the foreign-film category.
A Hebrew promotional poster for the film Sallah Shabati, produced by Menahem Golan, from the Avraham Deshe (Pashanel) Archive which is made accessible courtesy of the family and as part of a collaborative initiative between the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage, the National Library of Israel and the University of Haifa.
Three other Golan works earned foreign-film Oscar nominations: I Love You Rosa (1972), The House on Chelouche Street (1973) and Operation Thunderbolt (1977), which told of the previous year’s rescue by the Israel Defense Forces of hostages held in Entebbe, Uganda.
Menahem Golan (left) directs Yehoram Gaon, who again starred in one of his films, this time as Yoni Netanyahu in Operation Thunderbolt, based on the IDF’s daring hostage rescue mission in Entebbe, Uganda, 1976. Photo by Danny Gotfried, the Dan Hadani Archive, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel
In 1979, Golan moved to Hollywood, where he and his cousin, Yoram Globus, bought a studio, Cannon Films, and set out to make blockbusters on the world’s largest stage.
Their lead actors included Robert Mitchum, Sean Connery, Rock Hudson, Katharine Hepburn, Lauren Bacall, Faye Dunaway, Martin Sheen, Roger Moore, Rod Steiger, Donald Sutherland, Shelley Winters, Maximilian Schell, Jon Voight, Walter Matthau, Alan Bates, Isabella Rosselini, Sally Field, Michael Caine, Kim Basinger, Ellen Burstyn and a young Meryl Streep. Tough guys Charles Bronson and Chuck Norris performed in multiple Cannon films — and Sylvester Stallone and Jean-Claude Van Damme also starred. So did two global figures: opera singer Placido Domingo and ballet dancer Mikhail Baryshnikov.
A promotional poster for Over the Top, starring Sylvester Stallone and directed by Menahem Golan, courtesy of The Cannon Group, Inc.
Noted directors signed on, too: Lina Wertmuller, Robert Altman, John Frackenheimer, John Cassavetes and Roman Polanski.
Ruth Golan remembers buying a beautiful, long dress to attend a screening of her father’s 1984 film, Ordeal by Innocence. Not just any screening, but one held at a London theater, in the presence of Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip. Golan was seated beside the queen. He was instructed not to wear a wristwatch, lest it inadvertently tangle on the monarch’s dress, his daughter said.
As girls, Ruth and her two sisters hung around Golan’s movie sets. She met actress Gila Almagor — and Michal Bat-Adam, who played the title role in I Love You Rosa and with whom she’s remained friends. Later on, she met Stallone, Voight and some of the other American stars working for her father.
While Cannon didn’t release critically acclaimed films, many turned profits. The studio certainly was a sequel factory: Lemon Popsicle and its six sequels, four sequels to Death Wish, four Ninja films, Delta Force and two sequels, Emmanuelle VII, Superman IV, Missing in Action 3, Exterminator 2, Breakin’ 2, Missing in Action 2 and Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2.
“Sometimes there was money; sometimes, not. Sometimes we had a home; sometimes, not. It wasn’t stable, but it was wonderful — up to a point,” Ruth Golan said.
Golan, said Zablocki, made films on the cheap, what once were called B movies. As an example, Zablocki cited the “low production quality” of Superman IV, which included scenes of Superman flying that looked “so much more fake than” in the previous three films.
But Golan thought big. He even built a studio in Neve Ilan, west of Jerusalem, intending to draw international directors to make films in Israel. His own TheDelta Force, starring Norris, was filmed at the studio, but not its two sequels.
Menahem Golan (center) holds court with Chuck Norris (left) and Lee Marvin (right) on the set of The Delta Force, 1985, photo by IPPA staff, the Dan Hadani Archive, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel
“He was interested in making a Hollywood in Israel,” Duvdevani said.
The international film studio at Neve Ilan didn’t last, but a stronger Israeli film industry eventually emerged. “It feels like an important building block,” Zablocki said.
Israel itself was a sequel in Golan’s life. He returned to the country for good in the 1990s and was awarded the 1999 Israel Prize, given for lifetime achievement. Golan died in Jaffa 10 years ago this month. The National Library of Israel has an extensive photograph collection documenting Golan’s career.
“He was a loving father, but also was busy with his career,” Ruth Golan said. “He loved what he did.”
Menahem Golan on the set of Kazablan, 1973, photo by IPPA staff, the Dan Hadani Archive, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel
On Plants and Prejudice: Rachel Yanait and Aaron Aaronsohn
Ideological differences and raised eyebrows couldn’t get in the way of the personal and professional relationship between Aaron Aaronsohn and Rachel Yanait. While he was busy spying for the Nili underground network right in front of her, she focused on researching nature and became close with Aaron's sister and fellow spy Sarah. Her life was saved thanks to Avshalom Feinberg's coldness towards her, and she later became the wife of Israel’s second President.
Aaron Aaronsohn and Rachel Yanait Ben-Zvi. These photographs are part of the Archive Network Israel project and are made available thanks to the collaborative efforts of Yad Yitzhak Ben-Zvi, the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage, and the National Library of Israel.
In such a turbulent period as we are in the midst of now, it can be interesting to go back in time and observe a surprising personal and professional relationship that spanned an ideological divide during another tumultuous period in our history. This story took place about 110 years ago, when two people with serious ideological differences managed to connect with each other thanks to their shared love of nature.
He was a world-renowned agronomist who was involved in spying for the British against the Ottoman Empire, which was just about to lose its control over the Land of Israel.
She was a young agronomist, a member of HaShomer, a Jewish defense organization, and an activist in the Poale Zion party, who later became the wife of the second President of the State of Israel.
Driving along Israel’s coastal road today, you can see where this story unfolded. Near Atlit, just south of Haifa, you can spot the row of Washingtonia palm trees that led to the agricultural research station where this friendship was forged.
This is the story of Aaron Aaronsohn and Rachel Yanait. Their worldviews were radically different, but their shared love of nature and Israel connected them.
This was the period of the First World War. Aaron Aaronsohn, who lived in the little town of Zikhron Ya’akov, was already known around the globe for his discovery in 1906 of wild emmer, believed to be “the mother of wheat”. It was this discovery that led him to establish an agricultural experimentation station in Atlit, with funding from American donors. The station employed Jewish and Arab workers alike, triggering a charged ideological controversy within Zionist circles around what was known then as Kibbush HaAvoda – “the conquest of labor”: Should Arab laborers be hired to work on Zionist farms and factories? Or should the Zionist enterprise rely on Jewish labor only?
And if that wasn’t enough, at that same time, Aaron’s brother Alexander was establishing an organization by the name of HaGidonim, which was in competition with HaShomer. Aaron’s right-hand man in managing the station, the young Avshalom Feinberg, also belonged to HaGidonim.
And then there was Rachel Yanait, who was born in the Russian Empire as Golda Lishansky and adopted a Hebrew name. She was a member of HaShomer and the Poale Zion political party, which were dedicated advocates of Jewish labor. Later in life, she would play a critical role in helping Jews, especially women, immigrate to the Land of Israel from the Arab world.
Rachel Yanait in 1908, this item is part of the Archive Network Israel project and is made accessible thanks to the collaborative efforts of the Yad Yitzchak Ben-Zvi Archive, the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage and the National Library of Israel.
There is no doubt that Yanait and Aaronsohn belonged to opposing camps, separated by a tense and passionate political divide. Was it possible to bridge this gap?
“I’d even go to a remote monastery”
Yanait traveled to Nancy, France to study agronomy. When she returned, she wanted to continue her professional specialization. She quickly discovered that the best place for her to develop her expertise was Aaronsohn’s agricultural experimentation station in Atlit.
But could anyone conceive of Yanait going to work with Aaronsohn, the well-known agronomist from the opposite political camp?
Yanait traveled to Jerusalem to meet with Aaronsohn. She got there just as he was writing a letter to Djemal Pasha, the Ottoman Governor of the region, concerning locusts that were rampant in the land in those days. He handed her the letter. She read it and, to her astonishment, the document revealed that Aaronsohn was a proud nationalist Jew and an experienced farmer. From that moment on, she saw him in a new light, different from everything she had heard about him in her circles, where he was considered “a hater of the working man” and a boycotter of Jewish laborers. As for what Aaronsohn thought about Yanait, we’ll get to that soon.
Because of his reputation, the idea that Yanait would work for Aaronsohn was met with strong opposition from the majority of the Poale Zion movement. “Is it possible that a member of the merkaz [the party’s central committee] would go and work for…the hater of the laborer?” wrote one of the party members. On the other hand, people from HaShomer were quite open to the idea. But Yanait was determined and could not be swayed by what the party thought. She responded: “If the experimentation station were in a remote monastery, I would go there as well to study the nature of the soil and of the crops we cultivate.” The objections of her fellow party members had no effect. Yanait remained steadfast, convinced that the path she was headed on was the right one.
Yanait arrived in Zikhron Ya’akov and asked Aaronsohn if she could work as an unpaid intern in the laboratory and library, and for one day a week in the nursery and vegetable garden in the experimentation station in Atlit.
At first, Aaronsohn responded coldly, but when he remembered their previous conversation in Jerusalem, he softened and evenexpressed surprise: “Not many people come to me, not to the laboratory or the library. As far as I’m concerned, you can come to Atlit as well.”
Rachel Yanait in 1915, this item is part of the Archive Network Israel project and is made accessible thanks to the collaborative efforts of the Yad Yitzchak Ben-Zvi Archive, the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage and the National Library of Israel.
Yanait visited Aaronsohn’s laboratory and library in Zikhron Ya’akov and was impressed by what she saw. She excitedly described the treasures she discovered there:
“…I look and read from the covers, and I catch my breath at the sight of this rare treasure – books about nature and agriculture in the Land of Israel, in foreign languages and in Hebrew. A devoted and experienced hand selected and collected every book dedicated to knowledge of the natural environment of our land – the living and the inanimate, archeological and historical studies, from everything written about our land, whether written impressions from the field or research papers. Among the books are ancient folios, in illustrated leather-bound volumes that bring to mind my grandfather’s Gemara books and inspire awe and respect. From the adjacent wing comes the gentle scent of the rich herbarium. Here is the rare collection that the agronomist Aaronsohn collected from the wild herbs of the land as well as the collection of wild plants from lands of similar climate to our own…”
That very night, Yanait wrote to her friends in HaShomer: “In Zikhron, I’ve found study materials to my heart’s content. I will stay here as long as I can, and I will not be removed except for urgent matters of HaShomer. All I want is to learn and teach nature and agriculture, and this is the place to do it.”
From a Professional Relationship to True Friendship
At first, the relationship was quite formal, but their shared love of nature, landscapes, and the flora of the Land of Israel brought them closer.
Aaronsohn’s assistants accompanied Yanait on field excursions and taught her to work with plants. Not long after, Aaronsohn opened his library and home to her and even introduced her to his family.
Yanait informed her friends that she was going to stay there as long as possible, not only to learn but also because tending to the plants gave her peace of mind. The longer they worked together, the closer they got despite their arguments. Aaronsohn let her read an article he wrote about forestation in Israel, and Yanait shared with him her dream of seeing forestation of the land’s mountainous regions.
She also showed him a paper she wrote during her agricultural studies, and Aaronsohn told her, “…If you seek knowledge, put down the books, walk the length and breadth of the land, observe nature…”
One of their biggest debates was over the subject of Jewish labor. Yanait wrote the following about this: “Apparently, he never considered the question of what the future of our land will be if labor remains in foreign hands. I was sorry for this because Aaronsohn was an outstanding man of nature.”
For his part, Aaronsohn revealed how disappointed and insulted he was that hardly anyone from the local Jewish community acknowledged his achievements. “’Out there in the world, I am recognized,’ and he gritted his teeth, ‘and only here, in my land -,’ and here, he stopped speaking and his hands trembled in anger.”
Aaron Aaronsohn, this item is part of the Archive Network Israel project and is made accessible thanks to the collaborative efforts of the Yad Yitzchak Ben-Zvi Archive, the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage and the National Library of Israel.
Their arguments continued, but they also continued to grow closer. The debates didn’t take away from their appreciation for one another. To the contrary, time and again Yanait was made aware of his positive opinion of her. Aaronsohn held no grudges over political differences, and Yanait enjoyed her time in Atlit. “Ever since I began my agricultural studies, I never had an agricultural experience like I had in Atlit.”
Many people from her own political camp in Zikhron didn’t approve of Yanait working at the experimentation station. She regretted that, and sadly stated: “What a great blessing it could have been for all of us, had we known how to forge direct ties with him, and what harm this feud between his people and ours has caused us all.”
Rachel Yanait agonized over the idea of sitting in a library and enjoying her time in the experimentation station while her friends in HaShomer faced various trials and tribulations. And yet, she kept returning to the station and immersing herself in the wonderful world of nature.
Rachel became friends with Aaron’s sister Sarah Aaronsohn, who had just returned home in 1915 after her failed marriage to a Jewish merchant who lived in Turkey. Aaron thought the two young women might realize they had a lot in common, and so he introduced them.
And that was further proof for Yanait that Aaronsohn thought well of her.
Sarah Aaronsohn, 1910-1912, this item is part of the Archive Network Israel project and is made accessible thanks to the collaborative efforts of the Yad Yitzchak Ben-Zvi Archive, the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage and the National Library of Israe
Indeed, the two forged a great friendship, so great in fact that Rachel was invited on the siblings’ tours of the Carmel region. Rachel offered an amusing description of their search for particular plant specimens during one of these trips: “A few days passed, and Sarah came to the laboratory. She found me bent over the microscope and asked if I wanted to come with her on a tour of the mountain range on horseback…” Rachel rented a horse and joined. “…Suddenly, Aaronsohn commented that among the rocks he noticed a rare and special plant. He suggested I try – if I was indeed so passionate about plants – to find it without his help…” Rachel wandered about, pointing at various specimens, and Aaronsohn merely shook his head, angry that she couldn’t find what he had easily spotted. She was offended but continued searching until her eyes suddenly grew wide: “The queen of the wild plants was there right before my eyes – the rare wild orchid appeared in all its glory! I forgot the affront and exhaustion and took it in both hands as if I was holding a great deal of treasure, and Aaronsohn laughed.”
Sarah came back again to speak with her, sharing details about her terrible time in Constantinople with her husband, about her childhood and about her dear friend Avshalom Feinberg. It was as if Sarah had been seeking someone she could pour her heart out to. Rachel learned that Avshalom was the star of every field trip and party, and that there wasn’t a spot on the mountain range he was unfamiliar with. “And his eyes,” Sarah added, “shine brighter than every precious stone – that’s Avshalom!”
Sarah Aaronsohn and Avshalom Feinberg in Damascus in 1916, this item is part of the Archive Network Israel project and is made accessible thanks to the collaborative efforts of the Yad Yitzchak Ben-Zvi Archive, the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage and the National Library of Israel.
Rachel thought to herself that Sarah was the same way. “Full of passion to do something even if there was nothing in return, no glory, and no boasting! And above all – Sarah is a country girl, a daughter of Zikhron Ya’akov, this is her home and her birthplace, she will never be taken away from this place ever again.”
A Final Conversation With Sarah and a Tragic Farewell
As is well documented, Avshalom, Aaron, and Sarah were the leaders of the Nili underground organization that spied on behalf of the British during World War I. The tragic developments that were to come heavily impacted the close relationships among this circle.
The rift began on the day that Avshalom Feinberg was released from prison, after the Ottomans caught and imprisoned him for a short period. He soon returned to the station in Atlit.
Rachel wouldn’t see Sarah again, except for one last time when Sarah came to visit her. Rachel would not forget their final conversation for the rest of her life. Sarah was surprised to see a book by Rabbi Nachman of Breslov on Rachel’s desk, which she had borrowed from Aaron’s library and hadn’t yet managed to read. Rachel told Sarah a legend about Rabbi Nachman of Breslov, and then Sarah asked her, “What do Hasidic legends have to do with nature research?” Rachel responded that “Rabbi Nachman, like the other great Hasidim, must have loved nature and understood the secrets of creation, and as far as I’m concerned, there is a connection between Hasidism and the nature of our land.” Afterwards, they spoke about suggesting to the newly formed Hebrew Language Committee that the title geveret (“missus”), which neither of them liked, be replaced with a more suitable title like adona for a married woman and adonit for an unmarried girl (feminine versions of the masculine Hebrew term for “master”). That was the last time they spoke.
Rachel worked at the experimentation station while the Aaronsohns were relaying reports to the British, as part of their work with Nili. She often came upon espionage material, but unlike the majority of the local Jewish community at the time, she apparently didn’t object to the idea of spying on the Ottomans, and in any case she truly loved working at the station and the people she met there.
Despite how much she enjoyed it, her work there came to a bitter end as soon as Aaron left for Europe, on his way to meet with the British. Aaron was replaced by his right-hand man and Sarah’s close friend Avshalom Feinberg. Despite his close friendship with Sarah, he managed the station with a firm hand and kicked Rachel out.
Rachel wrote about how he treated her: “The man who Sarah often described as chivalrous and benevolent seemed hostile and narrow-minded. It was clear that all he wanted was for me to disappear.”
Rachel left in distress and never set foot in Atlit again. It was only once the spy ring was discovered that Rachel understood the reasons for Feinberg’s behavior, but at the time, she felt badly hurt.
In January 1917, Avshalom was killed in the desert on his way to make contact with British forces and his body was only found decades later, following the Six-Day War. In October 1917, the Ottomans uncovered Nili. They arrested Sarah and subjected her to cruel torture. She eventually took her own life so as not to betray her friends.
After the spy ring was revealed and the station in Atlit was looted, Rachel’s sister thanked Avshalom, noting that his harsh treatment of Rachel had probably saved her life. In 1918, towards the end of the war, Rachel married Yitzhak Ben-Zvi, who was later elected the second President of the State of Israel.
Rachel Yanait Ben-Zvi later in life, photo: Nadav Mann, Bitmuna. From the Edgar Hirschbein collection. Collection source: Tamar Levy. The Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel
After the war, Rachel met Aaron at a meeting of the Zionist Commission, attended by Chaim Weizmann. Aaron turned to both Rachel and Weizmann at the same time and laughed, “I have never met as innocent a farmer as you. You were strange to the people of Atlit. Nothing mattered to you other than the plants and the field experiments. You didn’t understand a thing, you didn’t pay attention to anything other than the plants and fossils.”
He told Weizmann how he used to write Nili codes on the doorframe right in front of her and she’d buy his excuse that these markings were for meteorological purposes. Rachel admitted that nothing had interested her other than the plants in the station.
It’s interesting to imagine how their personal and professional friendship might have developed had Aaron Aaronsohn not died in 1919 in a mysterious plane crash on his way to the Paris Peace Conference.
The quotes in this article and a significant portion of the information were taken from Rachel Yanait Ben-Zvi’s book Coming Home (published in Hebrew originally as Anu Olim – “We Ascend”), Massadah, 1963.
Feldenkrais: The Man Who Stood Ben-Gurion on His Head
He was an engineer and physicist who struggled with chronic physical pain, when he developed a unique theory of movement which attracted masses of practitioners and trainers around the world. One of these was Israel’s first Prime Minister, David Ben-Gurion, who succeeded in doing a headstand for the first time in his life, at the age of 70. This is the story of Moshe Feldenkrais.
Dr. Moshe Feldenkrais (photo courtesy of the Association of Licensed Feldenkrais Method Trainers in Israel) and David Ben-Gurion standing on his head at Herzliya Beach, 1957 (Photo: Paul Goldman courtesy of the Photohouse).
There was one man who was able to tell David Ben-Gurion what to do. He even told him to stand on his head, and Ben-Gurion obeyed. His name was Moshe Feldenkrais, a gifted teacher of movement who accumulated many students and patients, one of which was Israel’s first Prime Minister. When asked how often Ben-Gurion practiced with him, he responded: “Every day.” When asked “what hours,” he responded: “It depends. When I have free time.”
Article about Moshe Feldenkrais in Haaretz, November 1, 1957. From the Historical Jewish Press Collection, the National Library of Israel
The first connection formed between Moshe Feldenkrais and David Ben-Gurion was a little odd:
In the early 1950s, Ben-Gurion suffered from lumbago, meaning he had severe lower back pain problems. After reports were published in the press about the Prime Minister’s physical discomfort, Ben-Gurion received a letter from a citizen who claimed he could cure him. The Prime Minister’s doctors, who saw the letter from a man named Moshe Feldenkrais lacking any professional medical training, dismissed him as a con artist. It was only on the eve of the Sinai Campaign in 1956, when Ben-Gurion once again suffered from back spasms, that he was visited by Professor Aharon Katzir, one of Israel’s top scientists, who advised he meet with his colleague – a physicist and judo expert. The man was not a doctor but he did have some original ideas in the field of orthopedics. This time, Ben-Gurion did not refuse the strange proposal.
Feldenkrais arrived at Ben-Gurion’s home where the Prime Minister was overseeing the Sinai Campaign from his bed, and gave him a thorough physical examination. Once it was completed, he announced: “You will need seventy lessons.” He added that “If you have not already committed yourself to attending the last class, you’d better not start with the first.” Ben-Gurion agreed to the strict conditions laid down by Feldenkrais, and the daily treatment of the Prime Minister began.
Where did Moshe Feldenkrais get the gall and the confidence to personally attend to the health of one of the most important people in the country?
Moshe Feldenkrais was born in 1904. Already at the age of 13, as a bar mitzvah gift, he made a special request of his parents – to allow him make Aliyah from Ukraine to the Land of Israel. With a simple satchel on his back, he set out on his way. Once there, he first worked in construction, and at this stage in his life there was little to hint of what was to come. With great effort, Feldenkrais completed his high school matriculation exams, after which he travelled to the Sorbonne in Paris to study engineering and physics. There, he completed a doctorate in physics cum laude, and afterwards worked as an engineer and physicist in military industry.
Signed copy of the French version of Feldenkrais’ 1935 book on jiu-jitsu, dedicated to philosopher Samuel Hugo Bergman, who served as Director of the National Library of Israel. From the Samuel Hugo Bergman Archive, the National Library of Israel
In his youth, he took an interest in self-defense and read a book by Kanō Jigorō about the teaching of jiu-jitsu (Feldenkrais would later write the first book on the subject in Hebrew in 1930). As a youth growing up in Tel Aviv, he loved playing ball games with his friends, but in the last year of his studies in high school, he suffered a knee injury, causing him severe pains which kept him bedridden and limited his movement. Doctors at the time had no solution for him, and the only thing they could offer was a risky operation whose odds of recovery were only partial. Feldenkrais refused, and was determined to find another solution.
During his studies in France, he met Kanō, the author of the book he had read, who was impressed with this diligent and curious individual. Though he was an expert in jiu-jitsu as well, Kanō is famous today for having founded the martial art of judo, and Feldenkrais took advantage of his time in Paris to learn from him when he could. Feldenkrais would also later write the first Hebrew-language book on judo. In a letter from 1935 kept at the National Library of Israel, Feldenkrais tells of how Kanō was very impressed with his first book: “This is the best book written on this subject in a language which is not Japanese.” Kanō agreed to write an introduction to Feldenkrais’ book and even saw to it that the book be translated into Japanese.
Letter from Feldenkrais to Hugo Bergman about the jiu-jitsu book he wrote: “Here we see the first Hebrew book on physical culture which merited to be the first and only to be translated into the Japanese language in which the method was created”. From the Samuel Hugo Bergman Archive, the National Library of Israel
But that was just the beginning. Feldenkrais would later use all the knowledge he accumulated from his Japanese mentor, as well as his studies in engineering and physics, to invent a new theory of movement.
“I decided to see what action I took which led to my knee being strained,” he said an interview in 1957. When he began observing his body as a whole unit, he understood that he was not using it properly and that bad habits which he had accrued were causing him harm. Alongside his work as a physicist in military industry, Feldenkrais continued to develop his own unique theory in the field of movement, aimed at preventing pain and increasing acquaintance with the body. He devoted his scientific skills to try and understand his own physical condition: Why are there days where the knee hurts more than others? Does psychological stress affect it? He studied and investigated the matter but did not arrive at any new insights.
A young Moshe Feldenkrais. Picture from his first book Jiu-Jitsu and Self Defense (Hebrew), which came out in 1930, when he was just 26
One day, while hopping on his good leg, he slipped and injured it. Despairing and in pain, he lay in bed and fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke, he discovered that his “bad leg” had suddenly improved tremendously, and he was able to easily stand on it. He tried to understand what had happened, leading him to a revolutionary conclusion: in response to his second injury, his brain created new neural circuits, reorganizing his body’s response as a whole.
In the wake of these insights, Feldenkrais developed the ability to carefully observe physical phenomena and became highly sensitive to even the subtlest changes in his body. He created a series of sensory-kinetic experiments which usually took place when lying down on a mattress and which illuminated how the brain, body, and psyche all work together as a single unit. Following Feldenkrais’ discoveries, he adhered to self-healing, slowly improving his functioning to the point that he no longer needed surgery. He even taught himself to walk in a new and graceful manner, which served as the basis for the exercise method he developed, which is named after him – the Feldenkrais Method. His principles were found to be effective not only in solving common physical problems but also in helping those who suffered from developmental and neurological problems.
The use of non-invasive methods to improve the nervous system and individual awareness on how to properly use the body were among the principles of the new method, which quickly became popular in Israel.
Back to Feldenkrais’ most important patient. At Ben-Gurion’s request, his therapy sessions with Feldenkrais were kept secret, but at one of their meetings, the Prime Minister let slip that he had never been able to stand on his head, even as a child. Feldenkrais, who saw an indelible link between body and soul, understood that despite their daily sessions, Ben-Gurion still had the “body image of a nebech” (Yiddish for “weak/helpless/unfortunate person”).
Feldenkrais had his own definition of what health meant: “My first definition of a healthy person is someone who can realize their undeclared dreams.” If these dreams are abandoned or repressed, he explained, they will continue to immiserate their dreamers.
He could not ignore Ben-Gurion’s passing comment and went about formulating a plan, at the end of which the unthinkable would happen (as far as Ben-Gurion was concerned), and “the Old Man”, as he was affectionately known, would indeed stand on his head. For the next month, the two worked on strengthening the body of the 70-year-old Ben-Gurion, and learning the movements to prepare for the headstand became the focus of their work. The results became apparent during Ben-Gurion’s trip to Herzliya Beach, made immortal by Paul Goodman’s camera in 1957. That famous frame of the Prime Minister in a bathing suit, nonchalantly and proudly standing on his head, would become iconic.
Ben-Gurion, Prime Minister of Israel, in his 70s, with his bodyguard David Bashari. Herzliya Beach, 1957. Photo: Paul Goldman, courtesy of the Photohouse
It wasn’t just Ben-Gurion who came to Feldenkrais for help. So did the famous violinist Yehudi Menuhin, Nachum Goldman (president of the Zionist Congress), Meyer Weisgal (president of the Weizmann Institute), Levi Eshkol (Israel’s Finance Minister and later Prime Minister), Pinchas Sapir (Minister of Commerce and Industry), Moshe Dayan (Chief of Staff and later Defense Minister), and many more.
Feldenkrais passed away 40 years ago. This fascinating man who devoted his whole life to improving the quality of life of others, left behind a glorious legacy of students who continue to make the world a better place.
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In the preparation of this article, we made use of a Hebrew report from Maariv from September 20, 1957 (“B.G.’s Teacher”) and a Hebrew report from Haaretz from November 1, 1957 (“Moshe Feldenkrais and the Culture of the Body”), both of which can be found in the National Library’s Historical Jewish Press Collection. We also made use of Moshe Cohen-Gil’s book The Israelis Who Sought to Cure the World – Feldenkrais/Paula/Nezah/Hooppe [Hebrew].
