Haim Yavin passed away during a unique period in our lives. It is hard to ignore the symbolism
He was the voice of thunder from Jerusalem, the man who was the tribe at the tribe's campfire. He joined his God in heaven just as we finally understood: television is incapable of producing another 'Mr. Television', or one truth.
Remember how back then, when 'then' was 'then', Dad would hush the children and say to Mom, 'News! Shhh.' The digital clock of the Broadcasting Authority would point to 20:00, and at some point 21:00, and here is the opening theme, and here is the scrolling headline, and here he is — Haim Yavin. The one and only, the man who marked with stones for us the boundaries of the tribe's campfire. And it burned, the campfire. And the tribe was one. At least as far as 'Mabat' was concerned.
Days passed, time shortened, and times of embers, sparks, birds of prey, and explosions arrived. The tribe's campfire scattered in favor of countless small centers of combustion, social and television-based. In this era of fake news and AI, we have not found one like Haim Yavin, who would thunder with a voice of thunder from Jerusalem, and everyone would drink his words with thirst, eagerness, and out of trust and belief that his words are truth. Truth almost from the mouth of the Almighty.
War, peace, and 'Mahapach' (political upheaval): we are saying goodbye to Haim Yavin. On Wednesday, when 'Mr. Television' passed away, I thought to myself that it is symbolic that he joined his God in heaven just as television is unable to produce another 'Mr. Television', one truth, one convention, and one collective viewing experience.
Just as television shattered into a million channels and a billion applications, so too did truth and reality. The passing of Haim Yavin is also the departure of days that, from the distance of time, seem imaginary—perhaps even more so than these days. Than this life. Than these flickering screens, and what gazes at us from them. In 'Mabat'.
