I think we all remember our very first experience. The pain, choking down the urge to vomit and the pleas to God to make it end because we’ll never, ever do it again. You know what I’m talking about: your very first hangover. I broke my hangover cherry in Jerusalem. The one in Israel… or the occupied territories… or Jordan, depending on your politics.
But I’m not about to talk about politics. I’m talking beer. Which, let’s face it, often leads to politics. And if this the beer of Israel, you can see why things are the way they are over there.
Let me set the scene: I was 16. I was in grade 11. It was 1982. It was the first time the Edmonton public school board sanctioned a school trip to the Middle East. Our destination: Israel. The holy land.
I was pretty clean-living kid then. No booze, no drugs. I was a competitive swimmer, which meant training five hours a day. No time for parties or much of a social life. I had sipped a beer and maybe drank one full glass of wine at that point in my life. Booze and me just didn’t mix.
My dad, in his official capacity as a communications officer for the government, gave me a couple hundred Canada flag pins to give away – to spread a little Canadian goodwill.
I don’t know if Israel has a minimum drinking age or not. But as soon as my fellow students found out that they wouldn’t get kicked out of the bar, it became our first stop after a day of touring. Trying to fit in, I hung out at the bar.
I’d never ordered a drink in my life, so I followed the leader and ordered a draft beer. I was about to pay for it when the bartender noticed my Canada flag pin.
“I’ll trade you the beer for your pin,” he said.
“Okay,” I said, and I bought my first ever beer with the Canadian flag.
My fellow pilgrims gave me a look. They knew I had hundreds of these pins in my luggage – I had tried to pawn them off on them. I couldn’t give them away. Until now. My roommates pawed through my luggage and returned to the bar with a handful of pins.Several Canadian flag s later and we were hammered – on Maccabee beer.
Aaaaah Maccabee beer… how can I describe the taste? I haven’t actually tasted formaldehyde, but Maccabee is what I imaged it would taste like… only colder and with bubbles.
The root word for Maccabee is Aramaic for hammer, which is entirely appropriate, because after a few of these, you feel like you’ve been hit with a bag of them. But Maccabees are better known as ancient Judean fighters with a reputation for circumcising children.
No, this is not an army bringing democracy, or liberating a repressed people, or just out to loot and pillage – they’re out to circumcise the boys! Those must’ve been some strange recruiting posters. And imagine the panic they caused when they showed up at the city gates? Any man who’s had his junk caught in his zipper knows how sensitive that region is. A forced circumcision would be… I just don’t want to think about it…
I know, I keep saying “forced circumcision”… but is there any other kind? Who willingly gets circumcised? It’s done to infants because they can’t fight back.
Here’s the twist – in the bible, these were the “good” guys! The Maccabeean martyrs are celebrated in both Christianity and Judaism. But no one feels the least bit sorry for the poor bastards who had the tips of their johnnies lopped off. The only way I can imagine anyone surrendering to these maniacs is if they didn’t know what a circumcision was. And don’t expect any kind of anaesthesia. Unless it was beer. Maccabee beer. If you could handle drinking Maccabee beer, then you could handle a forced circumcision.
Maccabee soldier: Just drink the beer.
Prisoner: Ewww!… that burns the nostrils man. Why would I drink that?
Maccabee soldier: Well, you’re gonna want to be really numb for what’s gonna happen next.
Prisoner: What’s gonna happen next?
Maccabee soldier: You’re getting circumcised.
Prisoner: What’s that? Like a piercing or something?
Maccabee soldier: Yeeeaaah, something like that. And you’ll wanna sleep on your back for the next couple of weeks.
Remember, they didn’t have surgical scalpels. I know they had sharp knives and swords but, according to the bible anyway, they mostly used a “sharp stone.” Yeah… that’s totally reasonable. No chance of anything going wrong there.
But after drinking Maccabee, you’d want anything to take your mind off the taste. Well, almost anything… Now, I’ve done some crazy things when I’m drunk, but never that crazy. It would beat any morning after claim to craziness. The ones that usually begin with, “I’m never getting that drunk again” and end with strange tattoos, cop chases, and waking up with ugly women. Well that’s nothing fellas. I drank this rank Israeli beer and I got circumcised! Had to sleep on my back for two weeks.
Naaaah. I don’t think I’d ever admit that. Even if it happened twice.
Just stay away from Maccabee beer. That’s all I can say.






