Yom HaAtzmaut Tables at Gan Sachar

We spent Yom HaAtzmaut (Israel Independence Day) at the biggest park in Jerusalem with thousands of other people.  The park is a 5 minute walk from our house.  We did what Israelis do on Yom Haatzmaut.  We had a picnic.  With a mangal (BBQ).  The food was great.  The energy was joyous. Politics were left aside for the day as people gathered to celebrate the miracle of the existence of this tiny, complicated, remarkable country.

The tables on this day were amazing. The park was full of tables that had been shlepped down to the park.  (We sat on a blanket.  We’re not “true” Israelis.) Here are some of the tables we saw.

 

It took a few people to move this table from one spot to another.

This is a typical “mangal.” This man was our “neighbor” at the park and he sat by his mangal, turning his meat, all day long.

This was the only woman we saw working the “mangal.” The “mangal” generally is man’s work. Note the table of shaving cream in the foreground.

Yom HaTzmaut praphanalia for sale. Including shaving cream to spray on people. And endless choices of plastic “tchotchkes.”

A t’fillin table too – of course.

Tables. And people. As far as the eye can see.

We didn’t have a table, but we brought 3 chairs. And a blanket!

 

 

The Seder Table – “This is the Table that Goes before HaShem” (Ez.)

The seder table at David’s sister’s home was filled with remarkable beauty and love.  David and I and our 3 girls joined Jeanne’s 5 children, 4 spouses of those children and 5 grandchildren.  In addition, Anna invited Neil, a friend from NYU who was visiting Israel.  Neil is teaching in Abu Dhabi this year.  Spending a year in Abu Dhabi has strengthened his Jewish identity.  There is nothing like being a minority to make one seek out one’s own roots.

Saturday night, the whole Seder group, with the table in the foreground

So, all in all, we were 21 souls at that table for the seder Friday night and 2 Shabbat meals the next day.  The seder itself was led by Shlomo, Jeanne’s second oldest, and the father of the only two children old enough to stay awake through the entire seder.  A first grader and a kindergartener, they were engaged and participating actively until the seder ended around 1:30 am.  Shlomo skillfully conducted the seder in Hebrew and English simultaneously, engaging all of us with his pleasant humor, deep knowledge and thoughtful questions.

I was moved by his ability to include everyone in the discussions.  The 5 siblings are all observant Jews, yet all living in various sectors of the observant world.  Within our own family of 5 there are varied levels of observance.  And Neil had not ever experienced a traditional seder.  The differences could have been divisive, but the non-judgmental openness of each person at the table allowed for emotional, educational and spiritual space everyone.  The table was witness to an atmosphere of significant learning and of true joy.

During Shabbat lunch, Moshe, Jeanne’s oldest, gave a beautiful d’var Torah about the meaning of slavery.  Moshe spoke in the name of Rav Kook, but it was clear from his face, from his words and from his very essence that he had internalized this teaching and had, in fact, made it his own.  He spoke of the worst form of slavery as the slavery of one’s true self.  This is the slavery in which we no longer know who we are.  When our very essence is taken from us and we don’t even know it is lost.  The worst slavery, in other words, is not external slavery, but, rather, internal slavery.  The people of Israel in Egypt had forgotten that their true essence – the true essence of Abraham their ancestor – is the essence of hesed (kindness).

David with Moshe and his family

It would be hard for me to fully summarize his entire teaching this blog post, but suffice it to say that the table stood witness to a truly significant form of hesed as Moshe taught.  He moved between English and Hebrew, translating so that everyone could be included.  He could have taught about many things on that Shabbat/Pesach day, but he chose to teach about hesed as the essence of the true meaning of being a free Jew.

As he taught, I couldn’t help but think about many of my previous blog entries.  About the arguments on my bus ride just a few days earlier.  And about the headlines in the paper which report on the seemingly endless sinat hinam (senseless hatred) throughout the world.  And about the divisions between Jews on so many levels that seem to inform so much of Jewish life.  Of the assumptions and stereotypes we make about each other, putting each other in boxes without knowing anything about the other person except what we see on the outside.

But, as Moshe so beautifully and passionately articulated through his teaching, we do have one thing that could unite us – the hesed that is hidden within and that we could share with each other.  Moshe not only spoke of hesed, but he also showed it through the weekend.  As did everyone sitting around that table.  The “children” were our teachers.  The many conversations about Torah throughout the weekend raised the level of discourse to a level of holiness that moved me deeply.

Jeanne’s seder table will have much positive to report on High.  If asked about the seder and that Shabbat, it will report:  “Hinei ma tov u’ma na’im shevet achim gam yachad.  How good it is when brothers can sit together.”  (Psalms  133:1)

One day we will understand that we are all achim – we are all ‘brothers.’

 

The cousins -"How good it is for brothers to sit together"

“Ze hashulchan asher lifnai HaShem – This is the table that goes before HaShem. “ (Ezekiel  41:22)

May tables that witness such sincere love and respect multiply within Israel and throughout our beautiful yet broken world.  And may they go before HaShem as witnesses to the hesed that can – and, in special moments of true holiness, does – unite us.

More Pesach

Pesach is now over. I am a bit behind in my recording of the holiday.  Here are a few more pre-Pesach table pictures.

We’ll start with a walk through Machane Yehudah (the open air market near our home) as Pesach approached.

 

Macaroons by the kilo - Kosher for Pesach

 

Mountains of macaroons were available.  No more half-empty macaroon cans.  Of course, you can’t worry about the fact that 5 or 6 people have probably touched these macaroons before they are shoveled into a bag for you.  Who cares?  The price is right and the experience can’t be beat.

 

Fresh garlic tables

 

Pesach in Jerusalem means fresh garlic at the market.  In Seattle, Pesach means asparagus.  In Jerusalem, I haven’t seen asparagus.  Asparagus or garlic?  I think the answer is clear.  Who wouldn’t pick garlic?

 

 

Sign in the window: Kosher for Pesach! Don't bring in hametz!!!

 

This sign in the window of Rachmo’s restaurant reminded us of the year we spent here with the family.  Helen, who was in 4th-grade, saw a similar sign.  She silently read the sign, stood quietly for a moment, then turned to us and said with a smile, “They don’t make signs like this in Seattle.”

 

Naomi, Anna and Helen at our table two days before Pesach

 

Speaking of Helen, the highlight of Pesach has been that Helen and Anna joined us.  Here they are at our Jerusalem table with Naomi.

 

Pizza Sababa on Emek Refaim street, the night before the seder

 

The restaurants of Jerusalem were packed the night before the seder.  In front of this popular pizza place I overheard a young boy yell to his mother across the street:  “Eema, Pizza Sababa mitpotzetzet!  Mom – Pizza Sababa is exploding with people!”

 

A Pesach greeting on the bus: Hag Pesach Sameach

 

Even the buses are greeting people.  The reader board on the front of the bus reads:  “Hag Pesach Sameach.”  We aren’t in Kansas anymore.

 

Bedikat Hametz - searching for hametz

 

That night, we did the traditional search for hametz.  Of course, some of the hametz was “hidden” on the table.

 

Biur Hametz - burning the hametz the morning before the seder

 

The next morning, we went out to the street with our hametz, hoping to find a communal burning.   We saw a young man who told us we were welcome to join them in a few moments when they would begin their biur hametz.   They started a little fire in front of their apartment.  Nothing official.  People from the neighborhood dropped by and contributed their hametz.  Just another Jerusalem day.

 

overflowing garbage cans

 

We left Jerusalem, driving past the garbage cans overflowing with the last of the Pesach cleaning, on our way to Mercaz Shapira, where we had seder with David’s sister, Jeanne, and her 5 kids, their spouses and children.  It was a wonderful seder, but that story will have to wait for the next blog entry.  Dayenu for now.

Pre-Pesach Tables

There is something in the air here in the days preceding Pesach.  It isn’t like anyplace else in the world.  All the kids are out of school on vacation.  The sun is out. The streets are full of people.

Without too much commentary, I wanted to show you some of the tables of Jerusalem this week.  I wish I could also share with you the smells the the air – smells of springtime, cooking, cleaning, anticipation of redemption.   And if not redemption, then at least time with family and friends.  Yes, there is a smell for that.  I just can’t describe it in words.

Tables outside of the famous Rachmo restaurant

Machane Yehudah is full of special energy.  As we walked across Agrippas St. to enter the market yesterday, we heard live music.  We followed our ears and found a band playing and a table with people speaking into a microphone.  Is this a special radio show?  It was taking place at tables outside of the famous Rachmo restaurant, known for its amazing Yemenite food and for providing food for those who are hungry.

Sitting at a table in the Iraqi section of Machane Yehudah just a few days before Pesach. A plate of hummus and a great view of people passing, shopping, preparing for the holiday. Vendors yelling and the smell of fresh garlic in the stall across from us. The crush of people. The anticipation of the holiday. I love Machane Yehudah.

We decided it was a good time to sit and watch people.  We found a perfect table in the Iraqi shuk section of the market.

Public kashering pots are found throughout the city. With a table, of course.

Want to have someone else dip your metal dishes in hot water?  There are lots of opportunities on the streets of Jerusalem.  Just set your stuff on the table and they’ll take care of the rest.

Geniza container - overflowing

And do you have any old books or papers that have God’s name on them that you found during your cleaning?  You don’t want to throw away God’s name, so you put it in a geniza to be buried instead of thrown away.  In Seattle, many synagogues have a place to collect the books/papers and then buried.  In Jerusalem, you just drop off at your local geniza collection container on the corner.

Signs like this are everywhere. Mostly in Hebrew. But, there are neighborhoods in Jerusalem where you can find them in English too.

Are you feeling stressed about all the cleaning?  Flyers like this are everywhere.

On Ben Yehudah - an opportunity to sell your hametz. These guys (and their tables and/or clipboards) are everywhere.

What about selling your hametz?  In the market there are a couple of guys with clipboards yelling:  “Yeyudim yekarim – dear Jews – Who wants to sell hametz?”  They’ll sign you up.  Or you can go to this table on Ben Yehudah street.

This week I am continually drawn back to Machane Yehudah.  “Sof HaOnah shel  haugiot! – End of the season for cookies!” yells one vendor.  Another promises us:  “Hakol yored lichvod hachag! – all prices are lowered for the holiday!”  (Yeah, sure…)  Mountains of macaroons.  You get the idea.

Enjoying a snack in the "gruzeenee" (Georgian) section of Machane Yehudah as the bakery behind us was doing Pesach cleaning

We enjoyed watching it all today with our friends Eric and Tamar.  The table was a bit off-balance, but the view was great.  Sometimes Jerusalem can make me crazy.  But this week is one reason that I also love it passionately.

This is a new mural we stumbled upon close to our home in Nachlaot. Part of the Pesach preparation perhaps. An image of freedom? Darkness is in the background, but there is light and color in the foreground.

Hag Sameach.

The Bus Instead of the Table as Witness to our Behavior

Earlier this week, on a gloriously sunny day, David and I went to Jaffo.  It was 80 degrees on the coast.  I shed my fleece jacket and we wandered about, talked to people, enjoyed the scenery, ate at “Dr. Shaksuka” and basked in the sunshine.

Lunch at Dr. Shakshuka in Jaffo. A table in the sun for sun-deprived Jerusalemites.

I had an on-line mussar (Jewish ethics) class that evening, so, taking into consideration all the pre-Pesah traffic and long lines at the bus station, we left Jaffo with plenty of time to get back to Jerusalem.

We got on our bus and I sat in the second to the last row.  I found myself next to a young woman who spent the entire time on the phone talking first to the phone company and then to her mother about her phone bill, which she insisted was not correct.  She asked the same question and made the same point approximately 25 times.

There are times when I wish I didn’t understand Hebrew.  Maybe then I’d be spared the details of these conversations.  Still, I must admit that I found the whole experience quite entertaining.  I didn’t hear the other end of the conversation, but at one point she said:  “Eema – you’re giving me a headache!”  David, who was seated on the floor step next to me since they had let the two of us (and then another 5 or 6 people) onto the bus with only my one seat remaining, turned, smiled, and whispered to me:  “Who is giving a headache to whom?”

Suddenly, we heard some strange noises from the back of the bus.  We looked out the back window and saw billowing smoke.  The bus stopped.  The woman next to me kept talking.  It was clear that this bus would go no further. She was still talking. We were just outside Mevaseret (about 15 minutes from Jerusalem) and I figured I was going to miss class. Some things are just out of our control.  I’m learning that you have to embrace that fact.

We got off the bus (leaving my seatmate still on the phone) and figured we’d be waiting by the side of the road for a while, but then – good news – we were picked up by another bus almost immediately.

Picture of an Egged bus

David and I entered the new bus and I looked around.  Something was different.  I slowly realized that I was standing near the front of what was now a very crowded aisle. And the people seated in the front of the bus were all men in black. And the women seated in the back were all haredi (ultra-religious) as well.

We had stumbled upon the (famous?) voluntarily segregated B’nei Brak/Jerusalem bus. And it was no longer segregated.  And I couldn’t respectfully move to the back because the aisles were full of people. A few men were shielding their eyes from me and from the other women, but nobody said anything at all. The haredi folks were very gracious regarding seating. One haredi man asked another to move his shmura matzah boxes so they could sit together, thereby leaving adjoining seats for two women from our bus to sit down together.

All was quiet until one of the secular folks standing in the middle of the bus started asking (I think she started it – not 100% sure) one of the haredi men why the haredim don’t go in the army and why they are all parasites and why their yeshivot only teach “sh’tifat moach” (brainwashing).

Again, I wondered if it really was a good thing that I can understand Hebrew. Then the haredi guy told her he had been in the army and that many haredim go to the army and she said that wasn’t true and they started yelling at each other over whether or not the haredim are parasites.

The rest of the bus was quiet.  I think we had been marvelling at the fact that we were peacefully together on this bus.  There was a sense of: do we really need to have this argument here?  Now?

And then another guy who was seated near me turned around and asked them to stop yelling and, he added in frustration, pain and sorrow:  “Isn’t it possible for Jews to sit together in peace for just 10 minutes?”  Not a bad point, I thought.

Of course, the arguing continued. They couldn’t help themselves.  Perhaps they didn’t know how to extricate themselves from the argument.  Each needed to have the last word.  Each felt attacked and pained by the words and perhaps even the presence of the other.  But neither could see the pain of the other.  Nor could they see the pain of the man who begged for peace.  Or the discomfort of the rest of us sitting and standing quietly around them.  Ah…another day in Israel.

I found myself both saddened by the outburst and also grateful for the ride. I didn’t feel the need to solve all the problems of the modern state of Israel during that 10 minute bus ride.  I just hoped to get back to Jerusalem in time for my mussar class and this bus was making it possible.  I noted to myself the irony of riding this bus and hearing this conversation while on the way to attending a mussar (Jewish ethics) class.

And then when I got home my internet wasn’t working well and I missed half the class anyway.  Perhaps the mussar “lesson” for the day was meant to be on that bus.  Like I said, just another day in Israel.

Some traditional texts say that the Messiah will come when all the Jews in the world observe Shabbat together for just one week.  Others say it will require two weeks.  I say – ten minutes of peace amongst us on any day of the week would be a good start.  It may even be enough.  Isn’t it worth a try?

“Lo, I will send the prophet Elijah to you before the coming of the awesome, fearful day of the Lord.  He shall reconcile parents with children and children with their parents, so that, when I come, I do not strike the whole land with utter destruction.”  Malachi 3:23-24 (from the haftorah read on the Shabbat before Pesach)

Wishing everyone a Pesach in which we will be able to turn our hearts toward each other in understanding and compassion. A turning that will bring a true redemption to our entire pain-filled, gloriously diverse and exquisitely beautiful world.