'Yeah, but what about isru hag?'

So Passover - as endless as it seemed - has ended, unfortunately. And so has the Mimouna. Even the Saharana. So now it's already "after the holidays" and the time has come to respond to the Americans/Palestinians/Syrians/Saudis, and to inform the public of our intentions. But wait a minute: What about Yom Hashoah, Yom Hazikaron and Yom Ha'atzmaut? Are those just pimples on the calendar? We were referring to them, too, when we said "after the holidays."

So let's talk about the month of May. Around May, we'll recover, pull ourselves together, and then ... But wait: What about Lag Ba'omer and Shavuot? Just how is someone supposed to make important decisions while busy counting the Omer? By the way, it's no coincidence that weddings are not conducted during this period. So, come on: Weddings - no, and important diplomatic decisions - yes?

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That brings us to June. From June on there are no holidays, no festivals, nothing. Alrighty, it's a date then: June it is. But ... hang on! In June the 40th anniversary of the Six-Day War will be upon us, and all the soul-searching that goes with it. So there's really no point. And we almost forgot the most important thing: the findings of the Winograd Committee! Until then there's really nothing to talk about, and not afterward either, what with the heat and the vacations of July and August, and after that you've got your High Holy Days, so ...

It's too bad, really a shame. Because we really wanted to make progress.

'Didn't arrive'/'Wasn't received'/'We'll respond when we see it'

Even in the age of instant electronic communication, it's amazing how things can go awry when it comes to diplomatic, political or legal correspondence. A proposal for advancing the diplomatic process was put forward; a paper was formulated containing an outline for peace talks; the U.S. secretary of state or the speaker of the House sent a message; the Saudis put forward a plan; a lawsuit was filed containing serious accusations. A response is expected - immediately.

Yet, by some mysterious twist of physics, the moment any message gets past Sha'ar Hagai, it slows down: Electronic bytes become parchment scrolls, computer keyboards turn into quill pens, e-mail into a team of horses that has to pull over for a rest stop at the old caravansary.

A dispatch has arrived, you say? We'll get right on it: Hmmm ... My, what a mess there is on this desk ... No, I don't see any telegram from America here ... but we'll look into it. Summon the supervisor of the satraps and ask him if a panting sprinter has arrived.

'An interesting proposal'/'We're studying the matter'

If it were a boring proposal - say, like the one submitted by Javier Solana or any pale imitation of such from the European Union - we would have rejected it outright: What, again with the negotiations-shmegotiations? Again with withdrawals? Again with the conferences? The jaw gets worn out from yawning. But since the proposal came from the White House - it stirs our interest. We are studying it from every angle, going over and over it: Hmmm ... interesting ... peace, withdrawals, conferences ... very interesting! Really interesting ... so very interesting, that we ask: Give us some time to study it in a little more depth. It won't take long. Five years max.

'We'll be happy to come if invited, and we'll state our view'/'The Saudi king will be very surprised by what I have to say'

For so many years, Israel's leaders were habituated to reciting that "our hand is outstretched in peace" and proclaiming our dream "of sitting and talking with our neighbors," and also accustomed to being answered with total rejection - that such a recitation became a sort of ritual. And the ritual became a fixation; and the fixation became a kind of inert blindness so self-absorbed that this very "readiness" to "sit and talk" has become a kind of stubborn refusal. Because in the meantime - between an initiated war and a rolling operation - two parallel types of universe have materialized, and never the twain shall meet.

One is a grandiose vision in which we sit on carpets in opulent tents, gorging on meat and rice balls and hugging sheikhs in silk robes (The Saudi sheikh is surprised by a joke told to him by the prime minister, who holds him by the elbow). In the second - down-to-earth - version, we assume the role of indignant prosecutors and pick apart all the reasons for dialogue one by one: What about eradicating terror, and what about them acquiring arms, and what about recognition of Israel, and what about those whiskers, and what about the glasses for the abducted soldier? And now: What about the glasses case, and a cloth for wiping the lenses, and disarming Iran?

In short: We shall not allow negotiations with the Arabs to destroy our dream of a dialogue with our neighbors. The founder of this heritage, the one who took it to true comic heights, was Yitzhak Shamir ("Mr. Not One Inch") the most rigid and dogmatic of Israel's prime ministers, who always used to say, while pounding a table with his fist: "We will sit and talk! We will sit and talk!" When asked what there was to talk about when he had already declared that there was nothing to talk about, he would reply: "About everything! About everything!" It's no wonder that every prime minister from that time on has relied on this tradition: We'll talk about everything, as soon as you stop talking about the territories.

'Awaiting further clarification'

When the time for saying "after the holidays" has come to an end, and so have all the excuses and delays, and in the absence of any military escalation to save the day - Israel's leaders may resort to one last line of defense: the "Mrs. Richards Strategy." Mrs. Richards - as fans of television's "Fawlty Towers" will remember - is a gangly, bad-tempered old lady, supposedly deaf as a doorknob, who stays in the hotel and drives everyone mad with the communication difficulties caused by the capricious - deliberate or otherwise - functioning of her hearing aid. Her selective hearing is especially disconcerting when she ignores things that are shouted directly into her ear ("What? What?!"), but picks up with bat-like acuity every little whisper that she isn't meant to hear.

It's the same with Israel's leaders: No one's hearing is sharper when it comes to a malicious murmuring or even a thought that's just flitting through the mind of some Jihad activist in the alleyways of the casbah: That's enough of a pretext to say "That does it, game over." But when talk of peace is shouted straight into their ears, they are beset by sudden deafness: "What? What's that you say? Peas? Bees? Trees? Fleas? What? What?!"