Original subtitles

-I want to come home. -If that was him, I'd hang up in his face.

PREVIOUSLY ON SHTISEL

Don't you dare.

-He deserves it, he left us. -Stop it.

Lippe, all I want to do is cry.

I want to cry while you listen, okay?

Nice to meet you, I'm Adi.

Six months ago, I started finding my religion.

Rabbi, I'd be happy to give you a lift.

If you want to stay on as a volunteer teacher,

I can only bless you for that.

Perhaps the time has come to rest.

-Do you have plans for today? -What am I, senile?

It's just that Eliezer, may he rest in peace,

was devastated when he retired.

Someone suggested that I meet a divorced American.

-Why not? -You won't mind if I do?

We like this one.

I thought I would keep this painting.

This is from me, a bonus.

My friend is performing tonight. I thought that maybe you'd like to go.

-Are you going? -That's why I'm asking you.

Will you come?

Are you going to meet a man?

Abot Barkai Productions

Talisma Productions

Created by Ori Elon and Yehonatan Indursky

Dov Glickman

Michael Aloni

Ayelet Zurer

Neta Riskin

Shira Hass

Casting Hila Yuval

Executive Producer Eitan Abot

Line Producer Isca Gur-Luzon

Art Director Tamar Gadish

Music Avi Belleli

Cinematography Roey Roth

Editor Tamar Ben Baruch

Screenplay Ori Elon and Yehonatan Indursky

Executive Producer Dikla Barkai

Executive Producer Jonathan Aroch

Director Alon Zingman

SHTISEL

Do you have one that's...

taller?

More striking?

Brandolino hats are taller, but they cost a lot.

Almost double the price.

Let's see the Brandolino.

It's perfect on you.

-How much is it? -It's 890 shekels.

How much is it after a discount? I'm taking the suit too.

I'm sorry, no discounts on the Brandolino.

Fine, I'll take it.

It makes you look like a million dollars.

A million dollars, huh?

A million dollars.

Give it to me, I'll pack it up for you.

No, I'm keeping it on. Put the old one in a box.

-Is it for your son's wedding? -No, no.

You can't be marrying off your grandchildren.

I'm not marrying anyone off.

Can't a Jew just dress nicely?

Of course, of course.

What does it all come to?

Seven hundred and sixty shekels for the suit,

eight hundred and ninety for the Brandolino,

two hundred for the Springfield shirt.

So, it's 1,850 shekels altogether.

Sometimes a Jew just wakes up one morning

and feels like he's got his life back.

You know what I mean?

Are you all right? Are you all right?

I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

Maybe it's time my wife stopped driving.

Yes.

Maybe it's time.

What an accident, may God have mercy.

What happened?

On Yeshayahu Street.

This feeble minded American drove right onto the curb

and ran this young man over.

Poor thing, he died on the spot.

I thought we might go for a walk.

Find some nice place to eat, a restaurant maybe.

How about it?

I'd love to, but I don't have time.

I promised myself

that I would organize my photo albums this week.

Look, they're hardly recognizable.

-Is that Brandolino? -It's my late husband!

-I meant the hat. -Oh...

I wouldn't know about that.

Have you ever been to Nahariya, Edna?

No.

I was there two weeks ago for the first time.

There are many places I haven't seen in this country.

How about organizing your albums tomorrow

and joining me on a trip today?

We can go up north if you like.

Yes?

-Hello, Rabbi Shtisel? -Shulem Shtisel.

-May I speak to Akiva? -No, this isn't his home number,

you reached my cellphone.

May I ask who's calling?

Have you spoken to Akiva in the last few minutes?

No, why?

Never mind, I'll call later.

Thank you.

That was odd.

So, what do you say, Edna?

I'm not the adventurous type.

Look.

Here's Eliezer, of blessed memory, at the Biblical Zoo with the boys.

He loved going there.

Good day, Edna. I'm moving on.

-You're leaving already? -Absolutely.

And by the way,

this is a Brandolino.

Elisheva?

I'm so happy to see that you're safe and sound.

Why? What happened?

A young man was killed in a car accident this morning.

I had a bad feeling, I thought it was you.

Never mind.

Hold on, Elisheva, wait.

-How did you know? -Know what?

That the American almost ran over me.

So it wasn't just a feeling.

If it got you so worried then...

it was worth it.

What was worth it? The young man who got killed?

Maybe it means something.

Don't be silly, Akiva. Goodbye.

What if it had been me?

What if I had been killed? Then you'd want me, wouldn't you?

Why are you saying this?

Because I'm alive, Elisheva, and you're alive.

Maybe you only love dead people.

Shulem.

What a surprise.

I was pouring myself a cup of tea.

-Do you want some? -Why not? Gladly.

I like your hat and suit. They look good on you.

Thank you.

Where's Wasserstein?

Didn't Akiva tell you?

-He hasn't been here all week. -Where did he go?

He was kicked out. Rabbi Elyashiv's orders.

-Really? -He tried to introduce secular subjects.

I warned him that no good would come of that.

I warned him too.

Well, he'll be replaced by a new putz.

That's for sure.

So how are you, Mrs. Gvili?

What can I say? I missed your tea.

When do you get off work?

Shulem, I...

I'm no longer Mrs. Gvili.

I'm Mrs. Gerlik now.

I thought you knew.

Really?

Congratulations.

I didn't want to make a big fuss.

Want some biscuits? I have biscuits.

Well, I wish you all the best.

Many happy years.

Hello, Mother.

I have to sew this onto one of my school shirts.

Why?

For a play about the girls in the Holocaust. I told you.

Right.

I don't understand why they poisoned themselves.

They should have poisoned the Nazis' food.

-Ruchami, I have something to tell you. -What happened?

Don't worry, it's good news.

I spoke to your father today.

He's coming home next week.

This is a good thing, Ruchami.

-We'll be a normal family again. -Yeah right, normal...

-Yes, normal. -Whatever.

You'll have to move back to the children's room, okay?

Are you listening, Ruchami?

Why should I give up my bed for him?

He can sleep on the street with his shiksa.

Ruchami, that's no way to speak, he's your father.

Sweetheart, please try.

For me, okay?

I need you on my side.

Wake up, Jerusalem! Cry out!

A prayer and protest rally

against the desecration of our holy forefathers' graves!

We gather tomorrow at seven at Zupnik Square.

Let no man be absent!

LIPPE WEISS

Hello, Giti.

It's not Giti, it's her daughter.

Ruchami, sweetheart, how are you? It's been ages since I heard your voice.

Don't call me sweetheart.

You're right, you're a big girl. I just...

You listen to me, Lippe Weiss.

Don't you dare come back here, you hear me?

I swear to you,

if you come back, the whole town will know what you did, do you understand?

-Ruchami, listen, your father can... -Did you hear me?

Don't you come near here, Nazi!

There's no more room.

Shove it in there somewhere.

Good morning, Rabbi Konigsberg.

Oh, Rabbi Shulem. "It is he, not an angel."

Can you spare me a minute? In private?

Speak, Farschlufen signed a confidentiality agreement.

Still, please respect me and give me a minute, okay?

I want you to find me a match.

You surprise me, Shulem. This is wonderful.

But I want a woman with spirit, with verve, not an old bag.

Of course, with plenty of verve.

Let me go through my notebook and see who I've got that's your age.

She can be younger than me.

Hold on... I have it!

Here, the wife of your former colleague, Cheshin.

-No. -Don't say no.

She's just right for you, Shulem. I'll talk to her.

Not on your life!

Don't talk to anyone.

I'm looking for something else, a younger woman maybe.

You know what? I'll manage on my own.

Forget I ever mentioned it.

Hello?

Hello? Who is this?

Oh, hello! What a nice surprise.

With whom do I have the honor?

Adi.

Yes, Adi, but...

-Which Adi? -Adi Levi.

Hello, Adi, do I know you?

Yes, we met on the train to Nahariya.

I drove you to Agnon Street.

Oh, yes, of course, Adi!

How are you?

-Adi, of course I remember. -Thank God.

How are you, Rabbi Shalom?

-Please call me Shulem. -All right, Rabbi Shulem.

So, you called me, didn't you?

Oh, yes, I apologize.

It's just that your number was in my contacts list

and I didn't know whose number it was.

That's quite all right.

It was nice to hear your voice.

But, as long as we're talking,

-I just had a thought. -Yes?

-You come to Jerusalem sometimes, right? -Yes.

Perhaps we could meet?

That is, if you're in Jerusalem and you have some free time...

Yes, I'd like that very much. Any particular reason?

We'll meet and discuss it, okay?

-Take care, Adi. -Goodbye.

Lippe, how are you?

Awful.

-Why, what happened? -Didn't Ruchami tell you?

No.

About what?

She called me last night.

I don't know how, but she knows.

That's right, she knows. I was going to tell you.

She's grown up, Lippe. She knows it's complicated.

No, she doesn't.

She said if I come back, she'll tell the entire city about me.

-Did she really say that? -She called me a Nazi.

-What? -Yes, she used those exact words.

Listen, Giti, I can't do this.

Maybe I should just stay here where I'm wanted.

I don't...

Maybe you should stay there, Lippe, I don't know.

I have to think about it.

I'll let you know. Goodbye.

Tell me,

why did you come all the way from Jerusalem to Rehovot?

I must consult a rabbi

but I want it to remain a secret.

You have nothing to worry about.

Please tell me the exact details.

My husband went abroad to work.

He had some kind of crisis.

He abandoned me.

Me and the children.

They say he was with a woman.

-With...? -A woman.

-A Gentile. -A Gentile?

Now he wants to come back.

My eldest daughter is the only one who knows the truth.

She doesn't want him to come back.

Do you want your husband to come back?

I want a husband, a father for my children.

But, if he really was with a woman...

then I don't know what I want.

Did you see this Gentile with your own eyes?

Me? No.

Did your daughter see this Gentile with her own eyes?

No, of course not.

Listen, my daughter,

as you yourself said,

your husband experienced a crisis.

An awful crisis.

That's right.

People who are in crisis tend to imagine things.

They can't tell the difference between reality and imagination.

-I don't understand. -I'll explain what I mean.

We only relate to facts.

-Things we know for sure, all right? -All right.

What do we know about your husband?

He went abroad to work

and now he is seeking to return.

That's all we know about him,

the rest is... conjecture.

We don't rely on conjecture.

I don't have to tell you

that life flies by like a dream.

When morning comes, dreams go away.

Well, well, this is nice. Very nice.

I hope you have something for me this time.

-Is that all you care about? -Sometimes.

What if I have something even better?

Fuchs, stop playing games.

I brought the paintings in on time. Now pay me on time.

Hold your horses, listen to what I have to say.

-Where did you get that? -Don't ask too many questions.

Do you want it? I'll give you a good price.

Give me your paintings and 500 shekels and this painting is yours.

-Where did you get it? -What's the difference?

The tourists that bought it got into some trouble and went back to Brooklyn.

So? Do you want it or not?

I'll give you one Wailing Wall for free.

You pay me for the other Wailing Wall and the Steipler Rabbi.

All right.

You... You're quite the hustler.

What's this?

Did you buy new clothes?

It's all I could find.

-What do you think? -It looks good on you.

Thank God.

-Goodbye. -Goodbye.

Kive, don't tell Zvi Arye.

-The truth is, I'm going to meet a woman. -You are?

I was against it at first, but Konigsberg insisted.

She's a young woman. She's supposed to be very nice.

-We'll see, "He created it", etcetera... -What?

"He created this world to be inhabited."

We must try our best.

-Right. Good luck, Father. -Thank you.

Kive, who knows?

You might not be my youngest forever.

Maybe in a year or two we will both be embracing a baby.

-Good evening. -Good evening.

I know it's late

but I'd like to speak to Elisheva, if I may.

She's not here, she's in Bnei Brak.

I'll tell her you were here.

-Forgive me, goodnight. -Goodnight.

-Hello. -Hello, Adi.

-Would you like to order? -Absolutely.

-The lady will have... -Caffe latte.

-Caffe latte. And I'll have tea. -Tea.

What kind of tea? I recommend the home brew.

As long as it tastes like tea, not hot juice.

Of course.

-Would you like something to eat? -No, thank you.

No, thank you.

-How are you, Adi? -Well, thank God.

You look different than how I remember.

-Is that good or bad? -It's very good.

Truth is, I'm very curious.

Curious about what?

-About what you wanted to discuss. -Of course, I...

I'll tell you.

It's just that...

I like you

and I wanted to ask you if you're interested.

Interested?

Interested in potential matches.

Thank you, how kind of you to think of me.

Yes.

I've thought about you a lot.

And...

Who do you have in mind?

He's... an Orthodox man.

-That's an interesting start. -Yes.

His family is from Jerusalem, going back several generations.

What more can I say?

I just thought the two of you might take an interest in one another.

Okay, but...

How old is he?

Sixty, give or take.

Sixty?

Yes, but he has all his faculties, as they say.

Rabbi Shalom, I...

I'm only 37.

That's not such a big difference.

You think?

Sixty. That means that...

if we get married, how old will he be when our son has his Bar Mitzvah?

Seventy-five?

What's taking him so long?

I know that you view people who become religious differently,

but I was hoping that you might suggest your son.

The one who was on the train. Akiva, right?

Yes. No, I don't think he...

Truth is, I was referring to myself.

-You see, I'm a widower. -Oh, I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

I didn't know.

It's okay, no harm done.

Just tell me where that idiot is so I can cancel our order.

Waiter!

Rabbi Shulem, Shalom...

Shulem, forgive me, I...

You're one of the most impressive men I have ever met.

I'm not just saying that.

I wish you could be my rabbi, my father even,

but, I don't...

I don't know if it's befitting that you be my husband.

No harm done.

Waiter!

I haven't forgotten you. Just a second.

How about we sit and talk anyways. I feel so bad.

No harm done.

I don't know what I was thinking.

Take care.

Loser, idiot, bum...

Loser, bum, good for nothing!

Loser.

Ruchami, listen.

Yes?

I have workers coming tomorrow to put up a wall in the living room.

What for?

You're a young woman.

-You deserve a room of your own. -Really?

Thank you so much, Mother.

And Ruchami,

I have something else to tell you.

It's important. Are you listening?

Yes.

Everything I told you about your father,

it was all a dream.

None of it really happened.

-What? -That's right.

Father went abroad, sent us money, and he's coming home soon.

And Ruchami,

don't you dare use my phone anymore without my permission.

Good morning, children.

I'm Rabbi Shtisel, the father of your Rabbi Shtisel.

Your rabbi had to go away on an urgent matter.

He didn't even say where. Never you mind.

Open the Gemarah.

You know what?

Kiss the Gemarah and close it.

Instead of teaching you, I will tell you a story of suspense.

But not for the suspense.

For the moral.

Will you come in every day to tell us another chapter?

You cheeky boy, what's your name?

Yoel Kirshenboim.

Yoel, you don't address the rabbi in the first person.

As for your request,

if you listen nicely, I will consider it.

But this story is a little scary.

Are you brave enough?

-Yes! -Of course!

Okay.

Our story takes place in Jerusalem.

Not in modern-day Jerusalem,

but in Jerusalem in the days of austerity.

There was a Jew who lived in the Old City.

No one knew where he came from,

no one knew his real name.

Everyone called him "The White Man."

Why?

Because he always wore white.

-Good morning, Mrs. Gerlik. -Good morning, Rabbi Shtisel.

I'd like you to convey a message to the Board of Governors

or whomever you see fit,

that I, Shulem Shtisel,

having been a teacher in this school for forty years,

am proposing myself as principal of this school.

-Really? -Absolutely.

I'll pass it on and I'll...

even recommend you.

Thank you.

Take care.

Take care, Rabbi Shtisel.

Kive.

Kive?

I got here early this morning. I didn't want to wake you.

It's enough that I woke up your father.

-What? I don't understand. -Never mind.

I want to apologize for what I said yesterday.

I was out of line.

-Are you going out? -I'm going to the grocery store.

Can I wait here?

I'll recite the morning prayer, if you don't mind.

All right.

Do you need a tefillin? I have two pairs,

-but I don't know where... -I have my own.

"And I will betroth thee unto Me forever, in righteousness and in justice,

in loving kindness and in compassion,

and in faithfulness, and thou shalt know the Lord."

-Shall I make an omelet? -Yes, do.

Do you know what I said just now when I was praying?

"And I will betroth thee unto Me forever,

I will betroth thee unto Me in righteousness and in justice."

That's a nice verse.

-That's what we'll do, Elisheva. -What?

Let's get engaged.

We don't have to get married if you don't want to.

-That's a great idea. -I mean it.

Let's get engaged.

We'll have six months to be together as much as we want.

Quietly, peacefully, no need to hide.

And when the six months are over?

When they're over?

We'll see.

Six months!

That's a long time for someone who almost got run over.

Turn the omelet over before it burns.