Jerusalem Part I

Being in Jerusalem for two days is the equivalent of at least two weeks anywhere else. Ari, a friend i met from my program, invited me to visit him in Jerusalem last weekend. He works at the Hebrew University for two (ultra-left) professors researching the war of 1948. In other words an ideal job for me - i am quite jealous.
I left Haifa Friday morning, arriving in Jerusalem bus station in the early afternoon. The thing about Israel, especially Jerusalem, is that you can feel the Shabbat approaching - even the shops at the station that remained opened Friday afternoon radiated the expectation of a holiday. In Boston i never experienced such a public embrace of the weekend. In America, the pace that goes on during the week does not let up during the Saturday and Sunday - practically everything remains open and the weekend is usually designated as a time to catch up on all the crap you couldn't get done during the rest of the week. In Israel it's different - families allow themselves to bond, relax, and really enjoy one another.
First we went to the beautiful Hebrew University campus on Mt. Scopus - from where one can see the Old City and the hazy outlines of Judean Dessert and the Dead Sea. The air in Israel is not the best, especially in the afternoon, so one is never sure what one is really seeing. Being in Jerusalem is a singular experience - i can never fully believe that i am actually seeing the golden steeples or the Wailing Wall. The campus was deserted (because of Shabbat) and it felt like our own private playground.
From there we caught one of the last working buses and headed to the West Jerusalem center (the New City). Jerusalem is divided into East and West. The Western part is thought of as more cosmopolitan and modern. The East contains the Old City, Mount of Olives, and and mixed Arab and Jewish neighborhoods. We walked around Ben Yehuda Street, eating one most incredible falafals i have tasted in my life - flafal balls mixed with thina, humus, salad, pickles, and warm pita (basically too delicious for words) - followed by the very soothing banana milk from a plastic packet. We then proceeded to walk towards the President's house, where a soldier was taking her security duties very seriously by talking on her cell phone and looking very annoyed when we walked by. I've gotten so used people checking my bag, that when the security personnel doesn't, it almost offends me! Strange.
Then, from the modern downtown we walked to the Old City, where i would be spending the night at the Heritage Hostel in the Jewish Quarter. I couldn't stay with Ari at his absorption center because of some stupid rule not allowing women to stay overnight in men's apartments (what business is it of theirs - godammit?!). Ari, being Canadian and hence law abiding and proper, refused to covertly sneak me in. However, this proved to be blessing in disguise because to be at the the Kotel (Wailing Wall or as the French call it - Wall of Lamentations) on Shabbat is an incredible affair. Even before you see anything you can hear the men singing and praying. There is electricity and happiness in the air. Then when you actually see the spectacle it blows your mind. Imagine a sea of black and white swaying and chanting. The women's side is also beautiful - more varied in colors but also subdued in the level of praying. It feels quite magical to be there - however, i felt more like an on looker then a participant. I strongly identify myself as a cultural Jew - i love the traditions and the morality that comes out the religion- but in moments like this i'm both attracted and repelled by the idea of being more religious. I always feel like crying at the Wall and i can't explain it.
One image that stands out is of a religious women descending the stairs towards the Wall, struggling to get the stroller with a child in it down the stairs. At the same time, Hassidic men, instead of helping the woman, actually moving as far away as possible from her as though she was the plague. Quite sad. But then in the same instant seeing a modern - Orthodox family descending the same stairs where the mother and the father carrying the stroller and smiling. Made me happy.
The hostel that i stayed in also arranges for you to be hosted for Shabbat dinner at one of the families in the neighborhood. I was invited to eat with Michael and Jackie - a couple in their late 50's from Miami. I have to be honest at first they seemed like the typical privileged, self-satisfied, Jews. From the Kotel we walked just outside of the Old City to their gated community apartment. There were about eight other guests beside me - all modern - Orthodox - i felt a bit out of place. I won't bore you with the details of the night but here are some high lights:
- the house was filled with pictures of a 20-something man (probably their son) holding a baby/cat - turns out they have a son and a daughter - where are the photos of her?
- Jackie showed us (by us i mean the women) a tall tree in their tiny back yard - that was supposed grow a few feet, but "Hashem" decided that it should grow much higher - it's not the fertilizer it's "Hashem"
- some how the first conversation was about not "judging a book by it's cover" in which the table was informed of the time Jackie learned a valuable lesson in toleration. When after a hurricane in Miami she learned that good people come in all shades and tattoos. It seems that their roofer was one of these" punk people" (oh the horror, the horror) dressed all in black, with lots of tattoos, and piercing in the wrong places. Who turned out to be a really soft spoken and descent guy. This story was followed by similar stories of realizing that people who don't dress or act like you can be good too. (I needed a barf bag right about then.)
In the end there were things i found i admired about them and things i could have done without. They seemed really pleased with themselves for making Aliah, for being observant Jews, and living in (near) the Old City. The lacked certain prospective and were a bit too snobbish. (I also didn't like that all the men were doctors and the women all stayed home - there was actually a painting of a black women with a yellow background drawn by Jackie - i shit you not - the typical painting of a soulful native done by the benevolent rich mistress). Yet at the same time they were warm and welcoming. Some of them visited the Soviet Union to help refusniks in the 70's and later in the 80's. Quite admirable. So overall it was good night - only in Jerusalem.