Photos: Aharon Krohn

E
ight in the morning, I dial Yoni Gerstein’s number. No, he’s not available to talk now. These are the hours when he manages the public reception for Rav Yitzchak Silberstein, the rav of Ramat Elchanan, Bnei Brak.

10:00 a.m. Yoni apologizes but he still can’t talk. He’s working on an urgent political cartoon.

12:00 p.m. I’m sure he’s done with his work by now. Again, he apologizes.

6:00 p.m. Yoni calls me. He tells me about the cartoon he’s been busy with since the morning. “I haven’t even had a chance to eat,” he admits.

And with the Israeli elections just a few weeks away, I begin to understand the urgency. “It’s a cartoon about the unification between Lapid and Gantz,” Yoni tells me. “I chose to address the ridiculous list they presented for the Knesset — a hodgepodge list of people from all directions: Meretz, the right wing, leftists, generals. They have no agenda, only slogans, which don’t connect one to the other.”

It’s Political

While the English-speaking world may primarily know the name Yoni Gerstein because of his illustrations in Rabbi Baruch Chait’s groundbreaking The 39 Avoth Melacha of Shabbath, in Israel his name is synonymous with his political cartoons. On Erev Purim, ahead of the release of Yoni’s new book Pnei Hador 2, a compilation of hundreds of cartoons that reflect the face of chareidi Jewry, we met with him to discuss his cartoons, his messages, and his emunah.

But before that meeting there was the telephone call when Yoni gave us a glimpse into how a political cartoon evolves from idea to final product:

“I knew from the first minute that to draw a cartoon that expresses this message of a hodgepodge political list, I needed to create something that is comprised of many components that are all different styles. At first I thought of dressing Gantz in different kinds of clothes in a patchwork style: a long-sleeve and a short-sleeve shirt, colorful and white, nothing matching. But it didn’t come out good. Afterward, I had an idea of drawing an animal comprised of parts of numerous other animals, like a monkey’s legs, an elephant’s head, a horn, a tail, and wings. In the end, I decided it was too monstrous.

“Only after a few hours of thinking did the idea pop into my head — to make a vehicle out of pieces of different kinds of vehicles. That appealed to me, because a car connotes moving forward. So I drew a car that was half a boat, half a bus, with a motor and tire of a tractor — like a big conglomeration of junk. It had no shape and no direction. Next to this car, I drew Gantz. On the car itself I drew a note that says: “I’m for sale.” Across from Gantz you see an Israeli standing and ostensibly expressing interest in buying the car and Gantz tells him, ‘Don’t say Arab work, say Blue and White.’”

Yoni is speaking in a measured tone, but when you listen closely, you can hear the humor with which his words are laced, the wink and the smile that come through. That’s what makes him “Yoni.”

Expert Advice

Heading into Yoni’s basement studio, I know what not to expect: paints, paintbrushes, and the normal mess usually generated by an artist at work. Yoni does all his work on a sophisticated work surface that’s actually a huge computer screen. At 74, he’s not young anymore, but he still keeps abreast of digital technologies that can help him upgrade his creations and make them more professional.

Yoni presses on the screen and a string of cartoons he has drawn in recent years flash by with dizzying speed. Among them are images depicting Yitzchak Herzog presented as a vainglorious rooster believing he can replace Bibi Netanyahu; the visit of President Trump to Jerusalem; the Kosel plan presented as a snake frozen in a box; the migrants and refugees being pushed by the High Court judge’s gavel towards Southern Tel Aviv; the beginning of the new school year (with a new, ironed suit) contrasted to the end of the year (with a crumbling, torn suit); the grocery law; Trump’s recognition of Jerusalem as Israel’s capital; and so many more. All of Israel’s recent history seems to be encapsulated on this screen.

He pauses for a minute and shows me a cartoon that was publicized on Erev Purim last year which looks like it’s taken from Megillas Esther. President Trump is depicted in the role of Mordechai HaYehudi, Ali Khamenei of Iran is Haman, and all the king’s servants in the king’s lands (Turkey, Russia, India, Lebanon, North Korea and, of course, the UN) are bowing to Khamenei. The only one who isn’t afraid to arouse Haman’s wrath is the American Trump, dressed in royal blue and with a large golden hairdo.

“Shelo asanu kegoyei ha’aratzos,” Yoni says, raising his eyes from the screen. “I’m a political cartoonist, so I’m very busy with the nations of the world. Every day, a question flashes in my mind — how is it possible to not give thanks for the fact that we are dwelling in our land, deeply planted close to our Source? We have to thank Him for this constantly.”

This gratitude, which comes from the deepest place in his heart, is not to be taken for granted. Yoni made his way back to his roots at the age of 38, after spending years on the other side of the religious divide. “In retrospect,” he says, “I see how HaKadosh Baruch Hu chose me to be His soldier, to do His will in this particular job.”

That’s today. But 40 years ago, when his journey to Torah began, things weren’t so clear.

“You could say that I happened upon the Torah world almost by chance,” he explains. “A relative of mine became a baalas teshuvah, and I began to argue with her, trying to prove how childish she was and how the wool was being pulled over her eyes. But those discussions ended up piquing my curiosity about religion. Suddenly I discovered a world that excited me, and I felt drawn to it.”

At the time, Yoni was at the pinnacle of his career, one of a handful of Israeli artists who was able to earn a living from art. “But when I look back, I can honestly say that throughout those years, I was looked for something more spiritual. I was considered a success in my field, but I had no fulfillment, no satisfaction. I felt an emptiness. I felt like I was just another artist out of hundreds in the world, even if I was talented and well known.

Yoni tried lots of things to fill the void: yoga, meditation, and vegetarianism, to name a few. “I read, I studied, and I waited for something, anything, to give me that sense of purpose and meaning. But it wasn’t until I discovered Yiddishkeit that I felt I had found something that contained everything.”

A short while after he became a baal teshuvah, Yoni married and established a Torah-true home. “I learned in kollel at the time because it was the only thing I wanted to do,” he recalls. “I got a monthly stipend which enabled me to learn all day. For two years, I was a full-time avreich, and I barely picked up a pencil to draw. Here and there, when I had some time, I would doodle a bit.”

It might sounds strange, but Yoni says he didn’t miss drawing. “Torah filled that hole within me,” he explains. “It gave me so much satisfaction. Moreover, I was sure the chareidi community wasn’t interested in this kind of thing. One of the people who was mekarev me at the beginning told me, ‘There’s no place for drawing in the chareidi sector. At most you’ll be able to be a sofer stam.’”

One day, Yoni visited the home of Rav Elazar Menachem Man Shach, ztz”l, to ask a question about a medical matter. “After I consulted with him, Rav Shach asked me what I did. I told him I was a baal teshuvah. He wanted to know what I had done before that, and I said I was an artist. ‘Were you a professional?’ he asked me. When I told him that I was, he said, ‘If that was your calling, then you have to continue.’”

When Yoni replied that he wasn’t doing any drawing because he didn’t need parnassah — he was making ends meet on his kollel stipend — Rav Shach said, “So don’t do it for parnassah. If you were an expert, continue.”

Yoni carried out the instructions; only years later did he understand how wise this advice was. “Today, this view is widely accepted,” he says. “People who become baalei teshuvah are told they shouldn’t abandon their prior pursuits — they should continue, but channel their talents toward a Torah framework. Because if a doctor or engineer or musician just drops his life’s passion cold turky, there’s a good chance he’ll crack. I can personally testify that it is only because I continued with my work that I became a vessel for Torah.”

A Caricaturist Is Born

When Yoni tried to enter the art field in the chareidi world, he didn’t know who to turn to. Fortunately, at the time, the Israeli edition of Yated Ne’eman was just getting started, and he was hired to design the newspaper’s logo. When the Hebrew-language Mishpacha was established a short time later, he was asked to design the magazine’s first logo too. Over the years, he did others, including the logos for Mayanei Hayeshuah Medical Center and Ezer Mizion. “I did it by hand, with rulers,” he recalls, “in the most primitive way possible.”

Later, when people saw his creations, they asked him to illustrate children’s columns in the newspapers, and that’s how he started his illustrating career — on a small scale.

The first person to commission a political cartoon was Mishpacha’s editor in chief Rabbi Moshe Grylak. “At first, I was nervous,” Yoni admits. “But Rabbi Grylak suggested I do one cartoon as a test, so I tried. I don’t even remember what it was about, but it had something to do with Shamir and Peres. I don’t think the piece was fully developed, but it went to print. And from that week on, there is a hardly a week when I don’t draw a political cartoon.”

You have to see Yoni’s face to realize how much he enjoys every minute of his work, which he says came as an interesting surprise. “Before I became a baal teshuvah, I had lots of friends who complimented my work and suggested I do political cartoons. I met with the editors of the largest papers in the country, including Ha’aretz, and I showed them samples, but there were no takers. They didn’t even give me a reason for the rejections. Today I feel that HaKadosh Baruch Hu protected me from joining them and getting swept up with them. I might have stayed there.”

Several decades of drawing later, Yoni says he still can’t predict which cartoons will be successful and which will miss the mark.

“When I finish drawing, I always feel like I gave it my all. But the reaction from the public isn’t always what you expect. Sometimes people really like the ones I thought were less exciting. But it also happens that I publish a cartoon that I’m sure the readers will love, and there isn’t much feedback.”

He comments that some things are very hard to convey in cartoon style. “How do you convey a complex message — that Shabbos desecration holds back rain, parnassah, and peace?” he asks, to give an example. “That was actually my assignment once, and I was flummoxed. I finally decided to use a train, which has recently become very associated with this idea because of the constant malfunctions and glitches that plague the construction of the new train route. I drew the train speeding along the tracks, and in the middle of the tracks there’s a large pit where the train gets stuck. In the pit it says: ‘Shabbos desecration.’ Emblazoned on the train are the words ‘Rain, Parnassah, and Peace.’ It is clear in the drawing what needs to be done if you want to reach the destination and reap those blessings.”

In other cases, the cartoon is simpler, but still powerful. For instance, there was the time he was asked to draw a cartoon conveying the message that a court is supposed to use the tools and the laws that the Knesset gives it, but instead decides that it has to fix the laws. “For that, I drew a crane that takes over its operator. The creativity is in using a typical situation, but distorting it in order to convey a message.”

A Long Process

Yoni’s creative process doesn’t involve a single spark of brilliance or a euphoric aha! moment. It’s a long, sometimes painful process that stretches throughout the week.

“Throughout the week, from Sunday on, I go through the newspapers, and I mark down which subjects might be ripe for a cartoon. By the time Tuesday comes, I usually know what idea I want to convey. Then comes the most challenging stage: I sit, without a pencil, and I just think about how I can convey this.

“Literally hundreds of situations go through my head. I keep trying to envision what the final product will be, in its most abstract form — whether I want to condemn, to attack, or to bring people to tears. I go into this knowing my goal, but it takes a long time to figure out the best options to convey it.

“After about three hours of thinking, I get a general direction, and then I take a paper and pencil and begin to draw. At this point, the image isn’t completely clear. I sketch, and as I do, things get clearer in my mind, until all of a sudden I get this clear picture in my mind and I sketch it.

“After the first draft comes the second, which I send to the rabbanim I consult with to get their approval. If they give me the okay, there are two more drafts, then I finalize the linework, and then I put in color. The whole process takes an entire day of work. So when I show you these pictures from years past, I feel like I’m showing you a part of my life. These are not just random drawings; a lot of thought is invested in them.”

Despite his vast reach, there are still some places Yoni won’t go and things he’ll never touch. “Before I was a cartoonist and an illustrator,” he says, “I was an artist, and when I was younger, I traveled to study in the largest academy in Paris. I studied under the greatest artists in France, who scorned cartoons and caricature art. It was considered something undignified. They saw painting as the higher form of art, and I connected to that. I became an artist who enjoyed drawing the sea and boats, scenery and old houses. I would go into nature with my paints and draw for hours.

“To this day, I am drawn to that kind of art and I miss it. But I suppress that desire because I know the gift I have received is for the sake of Torah, to express the world of Yiddishkeit. But sometimes, when I am on vacation and surrounded by nature, I allow myself to go back to that old hobby.”

Not About Revenge

Along with the successes, Yoni says there has been the occasional mishap. He recalls the time he had to make five different drafts for the people who had commissioned a cartoon. Finally, everyone was happy. But when he opened the newspaper, he saw, to his horror, that the graphic designer had put in the wrong version.

While that was uncomfortable, it’s not as bad as being sued — or transgressing a Torah commandment.

“I regularly consult with rabbanim before publishing a cartoon,” he says. “I leave the legal advice to the platforms on which my cartoons are published. When it comes to legal issues, I don’t want to be the final word.”

He adds that it sometimes happens that he’s told he has gone too far, and the paper can’t publish the cartoon. “Each time, I wonder — if you could write about it, and all the newspapers have been writing about it all week, why can’t it be drawn? But apparently, pictures have tremendous power, more than the written word. Also, in writing you can present the other side and explain the differences. But a cartoon has only one chance to make a single point in a sharp, piercing, and radical way; when a certain situation is cast in a strong negative light, it transcends words. That’s its power. And that’s why you have to be so careful.”

Yet no matter how careful he tries to be, Yoni realizes that he’ll probably offend someone.

“Every time I begin a new cartoon, I have to figure out exactly what the target is. In a way, a political cartoon is a visual attack. But the target doesn’t have to be a person. In most cases, actually, it’s a situation, or an idea, or a hashkafah of some kind. Even if the source behind it is a person, I don’t always bring him into the picture.

“Moreover, even when I draw a specific person, I don’t make it personal. I won’t draw a long nose or an ugly face. I try to keep my commentary focused on ideas or principles. So I will draw the actual face as moderately as possible, without the typical caricatured features that are the norm in this business. My goal is for the face to be identifiable and refined. I don’t want to offend anyone; the idea is to target the situation, through a parable or an exaggeration that will express our chareidi view. The goal isn’t to draw something that is infused with hatred, chalilah.”

In fact, sometimes Yoni’s most potent weapon is his trademark humor. But, he adds, “My goal is much deeper than just getting people to smile. I try to take a relevant subject and convey a message that reflects the Torah viewpoint on the subject. It’s not my personal hashkafah; I’m just the pipe that conveys the views of gedolei Yisrael.

“I feel this is the weapon we have against the ideals of the secular public. We live in isolation, but we still want to respond in some way to those who keep putting us down and questioning everything we stand for. My aspiration is to give our community pride in our ideals and our leaders. It’s true that I also evince smiles, but often it’s a pained smile. That’s why I called the first book of cartoons I published Painful Lines (Kavim Koavim), because I sometimes sketch them completely out of pain.”

“I’m Not a Moiser”

Though Yoni’s repertoire features a rich sampling of politicians and Knesset members, he doesn’t caricature the chareidi representatives. “That’s because I usually identify with them,” he explains. “Political cartoons are all about criticizing and attacking, and these are people I don’t want to attack.”

Yoni doesn’t caricature extremist fringe elements within the chareidi world, either, but that’s for a different reason.

“I think that in most cases the best tactic is to ignore them. The minute you address them, even through a cartoon, you feed the fringe trend. I had some very sharp ideas for cartoons about certain trends, but I didn’t draw them. A lot of times, they thrive on a sense of persecution — they revel in being attacked. Ignoring is sometimes the strongest response.”

“I know that my cartoons land up in the Knesset, and I’ve heard of MKs and ministers who clip them and hang them up at home or in the office. From time to time, I also send cartoons to a few people whom I know from the past and whom I’m in touch with; they react well, even though their hashkafah is different.”

But Yoni is careful about who sees his caricatures. “You will never find my cartoons publicized all over the world. It’s a conscious decision on my part. Today, cartoon artists have international associations called syndicates, and all cartoonists are members. They get their successful and famous cartoons published in thousands of newspapers. I once sent a cartoon of mine to a syndicate on an international subject, and they actually asked me for more. But I didn’t send more. I don’t see any purpose in spreading these kinds of internal attacks to a wider stage. Here in Israel, among our own people, it’s important to stand up for chareidi ideals, but I don’t see the point of airing that kind of dirty laundry in public. My objective is to foster change, not to cause damage.”

Two Worlds

While Yoni doesn’t have much contact with the secular world, there are ties a person can’t sever, like the one with his twin brother, Dudu Gerstein. “We’re identical twins,” Yoni explains. “When I look at our pictures from the army, I myself can’t tell who is who. We were both artistic wunderkinds. Today Dudu is also an artist, and he’s very famous worldwide. He has a studio in Beit Shemesh where he employs about 40 artists. He’s constantly abroad and travels all over the world. He’s far more successful than me, but my heart aches when I think about him. He has Olam Hazeh, but what about his Olam Haba?”

Although Yoni has tried to share his ideals with his brother, he sadly admits that his efforts haven’t yet met with success. Today, their connection is limited to meetings at simchahs and occasional discussions about art.

“Recently, the organizers of an exhibit set to take place in Jerusalem reached out to me and asked that we both participate and display our works together. At first I said, ‘Sure, why not?’ Then I rethought it. I consulted a prominent rav who advised me to allow them to display my work, but not more. He said we shouldn’t be interviewed together, and I shouldn’t even go to the opening. Displaying my work would be a kiddush Hashem, but I shouldn’t put myself in a situation where there will be talk against Yiddishkeit and the like.”

On the other hand, Yoni has had more success with some of his artist friends — such as artist Yaakov Kimchi and illustrator Reb Yaki Kaufman — whose teshuvah process he was able to foster. “I didn’t try to get them to do teshuvah,” he clarifies. “We talked and they made the path themselves. I believe that we have to make our hishtadlus, but it’s orchestrated Above what we will do.”

The Artist as Acrobat Yoni’s cartoons have connected him with gedolei Yisrael, including Rav Yitzchak Silberstein, shlita, the rav of Ramat Elchanan, Bnei Brak. “I’m very close to Rav Silberstein,” Yoni says. “For years, I was the main gabbai in charge of his reception times. I know that Rav Silberstein sees my cartoons. Every so often he compliments me and says, ‘You wrote good.’ He doesn’t say ‘drew,’ but ‘wrote’ — like writing that conveys a message. And the truth is, he is right.

“Right now, I’m working on illustrations for his set of seforim called Achas Sha’alti, edited by Rabbi Erez Chazani. Rav Silberstein thinks these seforim are the best thing I could be doing, because it means people will talk about them at the Shabbos table. I’ve merited to have my drawings bring the writing alive.”

Another project is teaching the next generation of cartoon artists, a task he says isn’t as easy as it might sound. “These are things that can be taught,” he explains, “such as how to do proportion and perspective, how to create a sense of movement, make a nice line, or light and shadow. But you can’t teach people how to be funny. Cartoon art is not easy at all. It demands the gift of talent, experience, and polish.”

Another obstacle for young artists, he says, is that today’s cartoons are drawn primarily for parnassah. Yoni says he no longer needs the parnassah — he comments that about half his cartoons are now done for free — but even during the days when he needed money, the paycheck was never what was most important for him. “When I drew, I never thought about the money. It’s like when you see an acrobat walking on a tightrope. It’s true that before the show he invites thousands of people to see it and thinks about the money they will pay him, but at the show itself, when he is on the rope, he doesn’t think about anything but his life. It’s the same when I draw.

“I love drawing and art so much. When I draw, I feel like I’m 30 years old, because art infuses me with life — it gives me joy and satisfaction. And when I sit down at the table, I forget about the whole world. I don’t feel the hours passing. I only draw. It’s like coming up with a chiddush — that joy, that pleasure, that sense of bringing something new to the world.”  —

Special thanks to Reb Shmuel Berkowitz, the editor of Pnei Hador 2, for his help in preparing this article.

Drawing on Sifrei Kodesh

Yoni has been creating cartoons for decades, but his pride and joy are actually the seforim that he publishes. Seforim and illustrations, you may ask? In Yoni’s eyes there is a direct connection between the two.

“It all began years ago, when I was learning in yeshivah,” he relates. “One day, my chavrusa asked me to explain to him something regarding tying tzitzis. I took a pen and paper and drew an illustration of it. He was excited and asked me for permission to photocopy the drawing and distribute it in shul. Then he said, ‘Listen, everyone’s grabbing your picture!’ And he printed even more. That’s when it occurred to me that I should use my artistic talents for something more serious. So we sat down and decided to publish an illustrated Mishnayos.”

Yoni went to Rav Silberstein and asked what subject they should start with. Rav Silberstein said to start with Maseches Shabbos.

“I sat down with my chavrusa to learn Maseches Shabbos, every day for half an hour. As we learned, I marked down each time there were hard or interesting things that required an illustration.”

They worked on Maseches Shabbos for three years before the sefer was published. Yoni admits that he wasn’t sure how it would be received. After all, he was a baal teshuvah. Who was he to be publishing Mishnayos?

“I was pretty apprehensive, but in the end, I gave the sefer to Feldheim Publishers. Within a month, the whole supply was sold out — 2,000 copies. I was dizzy. And to this day, they are the most widely sold Mishnayos.

After that successful beginning, someone reminded Yoni that shemittah was coming up soon and asked if he could illustrate Maseches Sheviis. So he started to learn Sheviis. “My goal for the illustrations was to make clear what was being learned.”

Next came Eilu Metzios. “To this day, whenever I draw study materials of any kind, I also learn it,” says Yoni. “There are some things that you have to learn very much in depth to know how to draw them.”

His latest project is a  on the halachos of ribbis (interest), which he wrote together with Rav Pinchas Vind. “At first, I didn’t understand what could be drawn on the subject of ribbis,” says Yoni. “But the more I drew the more I realized how ribbis affects every detail in life — especially in our generation, when money is so dominant, and we are so busy with loans, mortgages, and credit cards. I worked on this sefer for six years, and now I’m very excited that it is being published.”

In addition to the thrill of seeing a book of his sitting in a bookstore, Yoni sometimes also gets to see the impact his seforim are having firsthand. For instance, there was the time that he and his family were traveling to Telshe Stone and on the way, they went to see the 39 Melachos farm. When the tour ended, the owner said to Yoni, “You should know it’s all because of you.”

“I was puzzled,” says Yoni. “Then the owner explained that he and his family made the farm because of a sefer I illustrated, The 39 Avoth Melachah of Shabbath.”

Another project that “I have the privilege of learning bechavrusa with Rav Meir Steinman, Rav Chaim’s grandson and the son of the Rebbetzin a”h,” says Yoni. “Recently we attended a huge siyum in Yad Eliyahu in Tel Aviv for 12,000 students, all of whom learned the masechtos that I illustrated. I don’t remember such a moving event in my whole life — thousands of children finishing together, all in the merit of my sefer. There are no words that can describe that wonderful feeling.”

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 754)