More than their desire to celebrate, Israelis want to feel like they belong. The context doesn't matter; the main thing is to feel like they're part of the world; not to get left behind. It's an urge to be in the middle of things, to feel the pulse, anything to keep from missing out on whatever is going on out there. We always need to find the Israeli and Jewish connection to the bigger world. And it's happening, again, at this very moment, on the eve of the secular New Year. As if we don't have enough holidays of our own, there are those who insist on celebrating Sylvester (what Israelis call New Year's Eve, named after Pope Sylvester I). Even though the party has nothing to do with us, we'll find the link. "A reason to party" isn't just the name of a Channel 1 TV show from those crazy '80s. This is our essence. We'll force ourselves into a party we have nothing to do with and weren't exactly invited to, just to feel part of the family of nations, part of the world anything not to miss out on a good time. After all, there's something going on right now; the same impulse that feeds our insatiable need for news is rearing its head. There is a "buzz" out there and we can't go to work the next day without knowing what all the fuss is about. Jokes will be told, discussions will be had, and I'm supposed to just sit on the outside looking in? Well, yes, you are. Personally, on principle, I'd rather go out on the town the night before and the night after Sylvester. It's less crowded, there's less mayhem, and more importantly it's easier on the wallet. Much easier. On Sylvester even the Bank of Israel Governor and Finance Minister together can't curb the out-of-control prices. Just the other day, our brightest pop stars ravaged our bank accounts with their Hanukkah performances, and now it's Sylvester's turn. This isn't a fair fight. The other religions are ganging up on us. Lucky for us, Ramadan doesn't cost any money. Every nightclub charges exorbitant prices just to get in the door, as if Beyonc and Rihanna were inside on the dance floor. Aside from that, the only way to pay for drinks is to sell your own kidney first and remortgage your house (assuming it's still standing after all the alcohol). The truth is that drinking alcohol can be very confusing. By midnight its effects are painfully apparent; every Ilana looks like Rihanna. The joke is on us. One doesn't need an imagination to see the grin plastered across the faces of the club owners. It's a grin reserved for the likes of [TV personality] Yigal Shilon after another successful candid camera prank. They actually can celebrate. By the end of the night, they'll have paid off their taxes for the entire year. They sold us this Sylvester and even got us to say thanks at the end. The only Sylvester I'm willing to spend money on is Stallone, and that, too, was only until Rocky 4. It's not about religion or the claim that Pope Sylvester hated Jews. It's about the insistence on celebrating something that we truly have no idea about. And even if we do have a clue, it should only serve to illuminate the point that there is no reason for us to jump up and dance about it. Celebrating Sylvester is like joining a victory parade for a team you don't root for. Meanwhile, nursing your hangover the next day, you realize the scope of the damage and that you have a whole year to fix it. That will be a real reason to celebrate.
