Luke Ford

I took a vow about a year ago to stop writing about Danielle Berrin.

I can’t keep my promise.

Danielle blogs:

In the bible, the desert can be a frightening place.

It is redolent of wilderness and wandering, confusion and lack. The prophet Jeremiah calls it “a land of deserts and of pits… a land of drought and of the shadow of death… a land that no man passed through, and where no man dwelt.”

Hot and plagued by thirst, the desert was so hostile to human intention that it took the Israelites 40 years to journey a distance they might have traversed in a week.

The desert is akin to the realm of beasts and wild creatures, punishment and desolation. In his book Desert Solitaire, the naturalist Edward Abbey describes the desert as disconsolate, a place where man it utterly alone. He writes: “Alone in the silence, I understand for a moment the dread which many feel in the presence of primeval desert, the unconscious fear which compels them to tame, alter or destroy what they cannot understand, to reduce the wild and prehuman to human dimensions. Anything rather than confront directly the antehuman, that other world which frightens not through danger or hostility but in something far worse—its implacable indifference.”

The most frightening thing about the desert is that it does not care for human beings.

And yet, it is also the place where revelation occurs, where holy dwellings such as the Tabernacle are built, where God bestows culinary delight in the form of manna…

I’m speechless. I have nothing to say and yet I must blog. Emmanuel Levinas elucidated this dilemma in his classic work De l’Existence à l’Existant.

According to her self-description: “Danielle Berrin writes the Hollywood Jew blog, a cutting edge, values-based take on the entertainment industry for jewishjournal.com.”

I’m glad to see that Tel Aviv University is giving junkets to our best and brightest. Danielle blogs:

From the skies, only natural borders exist. After take off, California quickly became Canada which became the Hudson Bay and then Greenland and Europe and so on and so forth. In physical geography, water and land divide, not class or race or gender or politics. And well, ice; the seemingly endless sheets of white that separate much of Greenland from the rest of civilization is a different kind of border entirely, not something one can really cross but a boundary to be observed. Israel brings to mind both: indeed its very existence seems to hinge on the security of its borders and the sustainability of its internal boundaries.

All of this came to mind since visiting Israel usually entails some mental preparation. It’s not a place you just visit, it’s a place you journey. Time in Israel tends to involve emotion, psychology, ancestry, ideology. It requires travel and learning, and encompasses challenge and connection. It means too much to be treated as a casual visit. And yet, two days in, the experience of being here often feels contrary to that notion.

I was invited to Israel for ten days by Tel Aviv University (TAU) because they are coming upon the 40th anniversary of their film department which they want to show off—and raise $20 million to expand. TAU has graduated some of Israel’s leading entertainers, many of whom have had success in Hollywood including Gidi Raff, creator of “Hatufim” upon which the Showtime series “Homeland” is based, Hagai Levy, creator of “BeTipul” which became HBO’s “In Treatment” and Ari Folman, director of the Oscar-nominated “Waltz With Bashir”. The aim of the trip is to introduce American journalists to TAU’s film department as well as other aspects of Israel’s entertainment industry, and, since it is co-sponsored by the Israel Ministry of Tourism, to also ensure that we see the country’s essential sights, eat delicious food, and learn a little history.

There are six other journalists on the trip, all women, mostly New Yorkers, all of whom have been writing or broadcasting for as many decades as I’ve been alive. One woman, who is wrapping up her sixth novel, has a PhD in French Literature which I’m unashamed to say I envy; when I excitedly told her I had just read “Story of O”, she responded with a deep-throated laugh that gave away her opinion of its literary merit. I was comforted that Susan Sontag limned an essay to the contrary.

Danielle adds: “And then there is the sea. At night the wine dark sea, by day deep blue. It breathes behind me, beneath me, as the rolling crash of waves and carried voices of beachwalkers float up through the tower where I’m perched, sitting with the view and my laptop. The visage erases pain, the breeze obliterates heat.”

I have been stalwart in my desire to not write about Danielle Berrin. Not a word in six months. And that last blog post was complimentary. She can be good when she doesn’t try to write. On May 7, I received this provocation in Danielle’s blog post about Avivah Zornberg: “Both nights I weeped through her words.”

And I wrote nothing!

A month later, this sentence has not been touched.

Oy, do the editors at the Jewish Journal hate Danielle? Don’t they ever read her?

As a very naughty boy, I know what it is like to need frequent correction. Nothing wrong with a regular spanking. Gets the blood moving.

Today I can be strong no longer. I must blog about Danielle. I must admit I am powerless before this compulsion.

Sweet Jesus, I need to call my sponsor.