Several years ago, I spent a week with a friend who had come to Israel to visit me. We spent one day with relatives of mine who live in a small town in the north of Israel. My relatives graciously showed us various points of interest in the area, and hosted us for the night. The next day, my friend and I woke early, had breakfast, said goodbye to my relatives, and took a bus to Jerusalem.
Still groggy, my friend and I boarded the Jerusalem-bound bus, took two seats at the back of the bus, and settled in, hoping to catch a bit more shut-eye.
A few minutes into the trip, still very much in a sleepy-headed state, I opened my eyes for a moment. My friend was still happily asleep. But I now saw something which caught my attention. Seated directly in front of us was a young Arab couple, in their early- or mid-twenties. Although they were not touching each other, their body language and the fond gaze in their eyes indicated that they were very much in love with each other.
I glanced down and saw that I was wrong about their not touching each other at all. For I noticed that they were holding hands.
Actually, that's not exactly true. It would be more accurate to say that they were hand talking. Their fingers alternatively intertwined and then pulled apart. The fingers of one hand would flitter gently all over the other's fingers and palms. Their fingers and hands were graceful ballet dancers, engaged in a lively, loving performance, expressing their obvious affection for each other, through an intricate series of circular motions, figure eights, pirouettes and adagios. And there was a subtle but definite suggestiveness in certain of the repetitive motions which their hands made together. So much expressiveness, and all of it non-verbal!
I watched this beautiful display of finger love for only a minute or two, but it was the most romantic, intimate, erotic vision I have ever seen in my life.
I had originally planned to conclude this post with the above sentence, but as so often happens when I write, the act of writing brings to the fore of my mind previously forgotten details. In this case, not a detail, but another, earlier incident.
One of the institutions of traditional Judaism is the Friday evening Sabbath meal. And writing down the above episode triggered in my mind a memory of one such Sabbath meal which transpired a few years earlier. The participants were mostly young men and women in their twenties and thirties, about a dozen or so of us.
In point of fact, I remember absolutely nothing of the meal itself. What I do remember is that after the meal, we were all sitting around in the host's living room, which, due to the late hour, was dimly lit. Two of the people spread around the room, on various chairs, couches, and window sills, were the son of a Rabbi and his girlfriend, who were seated next to each other.
For just a very brief moment, they rubbed their hands against each other. And in that don't-blink-or-you'll-miss-it intense pressing of sweaty hand against sweaty hand, which lasted literally no more than a fraction of a second, there was an expression of such raw, harsh urgency, that a more vulgar, pornographic vision I have never seen in my life. So unexpected was the, yes, fierceness reflected in that momentary gesture that my mind was almost as taken aback as it would have been if they had had the poor taste and judgement to perform the most intimate conjugal act imaginable in public!
If the above characterization sounds critical on my part, then I sincerely apologize, for it is not at all meant to be so. These two young lovers were innocently and un-self-consciously (behold, a doubly hyphenated word!) expressing the heady spell of passion which engulfed them both. Little did they know that their brief exchange had come within the radar of a hand reader!
The philosopher asks: What is the sound of one hand clapping? I know not, but I have seen the dialog of two hands clasping, and I know that hands are abundantly capable of expressing the most intimate aspects of human emotion, from the most fierce to the most tender.
