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IT'S ONLY FEBRUARY, but already it seems the entire continent has been gripped by Millennium
Fever.
So, I decided to put my two cents in, in the faint hope of putting some perspective on this
whole mishegas (nuttiness). As I figure, by December most people will be too crazed to pay attention to other seemingly mundane matters, like real news or its opposite, this column.
Now, fear about
the approaching Millennium is anything but new. Aside from the guy on the street corner whose
signboard proclaims that the world will end tomorrow, most people really don't believe the world
will end in the year 2000 CE. Of course, there are a few people who claim to back this up
through biblical calculations (let's call them End of the World Types, or EWTs for short).
Funny, do you notice how EWTs never quite get around to telling you exactly how this End is
supposed to come about? For that, you have to buy the fourteen-part book subscription.
But before I totally dismiss the possibility of the world ending, it's hard to argue
with certain recent events leading to something, even if you're not a Lubavitcher. For instance, I
saw a recent news piece from Israel on a Hashomer Hatzair kibbutz actually making its kitchen
strictly kosher. To ardent secularists, this happening is about as likely as Gehennom (hell) freezing
over.
Now, there's a famous Talmudic passage that G-d provides the cure before He sends the affliction. First of
all, as many have noted, if the world would only convert to the Jewish Year 5760, then the
computer chachams (geniuses) will have another forty years to come up with a solution.
Secondly, history
has prepared the Jewish people all too well for survivalism. We're usually quite level-headed,
non-Sky-is-Falling types, at least when it's not Erev Yom Tov ("Passover is coming, Passover is
coming" I can hear the anxious housewife's cry). Despite the absence of pogroms and sudden
eviction, we can still experience a taste of survivalism. If you don't believe me, watch the
supermarket shopping hoarding for Kosher for Passover foods, which are available in the grocery
stores only while supplies last. Then again, the mad rush for challahs at the bakery on Rosh
Hashanah eve can be equally nerve-wracking. I still have the bruised ribs to show for it.
Thirdly, we have merited as a people to be blessed with the simple solution to the Y2K bug,
when airplanes won't fly and gas stations won't pump. In case you haven't looked that far ahead
in your calendar, December 31 1999 just so happens to fall out on a Friday night. Did Hillel the
Elder have this in mind when he set down the Jewish calendar about 2,100 years ago?
On
Shabbat, January 1, 2000, if we're where we're supposed to be, namely, in shul, (synagogue) there's no
problem with flying, driving, etc., as long as the shul has light, heat, a backup generator, and if
we're lucky, cholent stew for a thousand. Just in case, I think I'll be stocking up the freezer with
challahs. No wait, the freezer runs on electricity. Oh well, there's always matzah.
But, if the
world really does end on December 31, 1999, where will I get my challahs for the next Shabbat?
Jewish World Review Feb. 4, 1998 / 18 Shevat, 5759
Friday Night Millennium Fever
By Jordan Max
Speaking of freezing, up here in the Great White North, we have been blessed for two years in a
row with very impressive January winter storms. In 1998, the famous Ice Storm knocked out
electrical power in some areas for weeks on end. People discovered that just about everything
runs on electricity or computer systems powered by, you guessed it, electricity. And so, the story
goes, people had to actually learn to live without. This lesson has not gone unnoticed; in fact it
seems to have brought out the raw survivalist in some people. The possibility of electrical or
computer failure on the stroke of midnight 1999 in the depths of a Canadian winter has these
people in a tizzy, stockpiling food and supplies, buying generators, hiding cash under the
mattress, building underground bunkers, and learning obscure card games to pass the time.
New JWR contributor Jordan Max is a Toronto-based humorist.