The Final Word?

Seth and I have just put Zoe into the car taking her to Ben Gurion Airport, final destination, JFK.  She joins seven other Israelis on this flight who will be attending the Drisha summer learning program for high school girls.  At the end of July, the other 7 will fly back to Ben Gurion and Zoe will fly to Detroit.

Seth and I leave in two days, so this will be the final blog.

Seth here with a short Torah interlude.  In this week’s parsha, for reasons not made explicit, Moshe is told that he will not enter the Land of Israel.  A midrash (Devarim Rabbah 2:8) offers a reason. Carrying Joseph’s bones to be buried in the Land of Israel, Moshe asks why his bones can’t have the same merit.  God explains to Moshe that in contrast to Joseph, who always identified to the Egyptians where he was born, Moshe let people think of him as an Egyptian.  הוּא מִי שֶׁהוֹדָה בְּאַרְצוֹ נִקְבַּר בְּאַרְצוֹ וּמִי שֶׁלֹא הוֹדָה בְּאַרְצוֹ אֵינוֹ נִקְבַּר בְּאַרְצוֹ. He who acknowledged his native land is to be buried in that land but he who did not acknowledge his native land does not merit to be buried in his land.    Back to your regularly scheduled blog.

It is hard to sum up the year at this point without any distance.  I think that the three of us will be realizing its impact for years to come. But maybe it is appropriate to start with the things I will miss.  Actually, first I will tell you the things I will not miss:  our mattress, excessive and unnecessary use of the car horn and the smoking.

But the things I will miss are numerous and fall into different categories.

First, there are the simple pleasures of living in the city, pleasures not unique to Jerusalem -- being able to walk everywhere, the energy, the mix of people, the culture.

Next, there are the special Jerusalem things:  the magnificent weather -- including the crazy winds, the sky and the hilltop landscape that surrounds you.  It is a treat to be walking in the city and make a turn to be faced with a gorgeous vista that had been hiding just minutes before.

And then there are the great Jewish things that I get here that I do not get at home:  of course, the food, which includes restaurants, grocery stores and gourmet shops, my fabulous butcher, the magnificent shuk, the anticipated foods that accompany the seasons and holidays, the Middle Eastern diet which incorporates so many tastes and spices and ethnicities, the ten outstanding bakeries within a few blocks of our apartment, the smell of cheese Danish that I catch some mornings on the street (I am not kidding) and the overall joy and indulgence that comes with eating here; to eat here is to experience one of the great pleasures of life.

I will miss the Jewish intellectual energy of Jerusalem.  The sheer brain power here and the number of people engaged in serious Jewish learning at all times is inspiring, overwhelming and exciting. To be here is to be at the center of the Jewish world.

The dozens and dozens of synagogues within walking distance of our apartment, each a little different.

Friday night services of which I never partake at home.  They are the most beautiful services and are often the highlight of my week. To not have experienced a Friday night davening here, is to miss a powerful element of what makes Shabbat so special and essential.

My Shabbat walks with Allison.  One, it is because it is Allison. Two, it never gets old to see those ancient city walls at sunset; they really are bathed in gold and, if you let them, they take your breath away.  Often our walks would take us there.  Imagine walking along and then history hits you in the face.  2500 years of it.  This city really messes with your sense of time.

The chagim (holidays) of which we have spoken all year.

I will miss speaking another language, no matter how weakly I do it. Learning another language with others is such a satisfying and enjoyable experience and I will miss my core chevruta:  Chuck, Marion and John (whose son is completing his army service this same week as our ulpan ends; and this non-Jewish Brit who has chosen to make his home here told us he was filled with much “ga’ava” or pride.) And l will miss hearing many languages during my day as a matter of course.  On any given day, I am almost guaranteed to at least hear Hebrew, English, French, Russian, Arabic and Amharic on the street.

Then there is the multi-varied global Jewish population of Israel. When I was commuting to Tel Aviv every week I loved arriving early in Arlozorov Station to catch the morning rush of soldiers reporting for duty.  The main army base is currently in Tel Aviv and I would see hundreds of soldiers sometimes.  While I know that not everyone in the army is Jewish, most are.  I was constantly awed by the physical mix of these soldiers from the fairest of skin to the darkest complexions, crazy tall to crazy short, red heads, blondes and all the brunettes, some who look like Nordic heroes and some who look like Arab princesses.

When I was growing up at Hillel Day School I remember thinking that Jews came from Russia and Poland.  That’s it.  And while my grown up self has learned otherwise over the years, it is still something to see this reality in the flesh.  This year I have been surrounded most by the Anglos who hail from the Mother Land and her colonies -- England, Canada, Australia, The United States, and, less commonly, South Africa.  But I am aware of meeting Jews from the following countries:  Argentina, France, Germany, Belgium, Austria, Italy, Spain (Can you believe a 60 Year Spanish Jew?), Holland, Hungary, most of the countries of the former Soviet Union,  Yugoslavia (now Serbia), Sweden, Morocco, Egypt, Iran, Iraq, Yemen, Ethiopia, India and Zimbabwe.  And I wasn’t trying.  Meeting these fellow Jews has given me a greater perspective on the world and life in general and my sense of peoplehood has grown immensely.  When our friends the Kashuks lived in the Old City on their first Aliyah here, they used to host Friday night dinners for travelers and lone soldiers in their home and could have representatives from six continents simultaneously at their table on occasion.  Aviva loved experiencing this power of coming together.

If my sense of peoplehood has grown, my understanding of Jewish history has swelled.  Sometimes you think you know things just from what you absorb casually through the news or conversations or who knows what, but I am so grateful for the time I had this year to read and go to lectures and classes.  I have learned so much including how much more there is to learn.  While some might find the heaviness of the history here too much, I find the weight of it uplifting.  As an example, one of the things I will greatly miss is the approach to Jerusalem on my weekly bus rides to and from Tel Aviv.  The buses take Highway 1 which actually follows the ancient road between Yafo and Jerusalem.  There is a lot of history there.  Along the road you can see the remnants of the armored vehicles used by Jewish fighters in their desperate attempts to break the Siege of Jerusalem during the War of Independence.  But my favorite part of the trip is always the final ascent to the city which is spectacularly beautiful in landscape and awe inspiring.

Jerusalem is basically a fortress and the elevation gets intense as you approach.  The final rise of around 2 kilometers is called the Roman Ascent and takes you past the cemetery at Har HaMenuchot and then you are officially greeted by the municipality with a sign saying, Baruchim Habaim (“Welcome,” but literally, “Blessed are the arrivers.”)  Every time I sensed the bus starting to pull up the hill, I felt the excitement.  And on the Roman Ascent, I encountered the Canaanites, Egyptians, ancient Israelites, Assyrians, Babylonians, Persians, Greeks, Hasmoneans, Romans, Byzantines, Muslims, Crusaders, Mamluks, Ottomans, British, and  Israelis who marched this road with the hope of making Jerusalem their own.  I am not kidding.  Every time.

Of course there are also those essential people of our journey but that is for later.

But what I, actually all three of us, will miss the most is, of course, our brave and brilliant Hannah.  We had her for Shabbatot, holidays and frequent Jerusalem drop ins and for this alone the year has been irreplaceable.  To share this country with her, catch up with her friends that we knew and meet her friends that we did not – especially our new love, Eliana, and be here for the start of university has been one of the highlights of our lives.  Hannah is choosing to live a life that is filled with challenges but also great rewards.  It is an interesting twist of fate that we children of Russian Jewish immigrants have a child who has chosen to be an immigrant.  And while our ancestors were definitely running away from something, Hannah is definitely running toward something.  I won’t speak for her, but for me personally, I have loved living here and feeling a part of something greater than myself.  Hannah is an inspiration and Seth and I could not be more proud of her.

While Hannah inspired this adventure with her Aliyah, the year became something very special for each one of us personally. Living in Israel had never occurred to me, but often this year I have wondered what would have happened if my grandfather, Rubin Kostetsky, had been taken with Zionist preaching in Brestlitovsk in 1912 as Isaac Kumer had in Agnon’s novel (which I finished by the way, although it was tough going.)  These kind of imaginings don’t get one very far and are not very fruitful.  Besides the fact that I am grateful for my citizenship and my upbringing, clear paths in life are rare.  Life was very hard here and people often left (remember Esther Offer?) and the one time my sister and mother brought my grandfather to this country, he really just wanted to go home.

Over the year, I had conversations with three different people who all brought up the notion of “sheket,” the Hebrew word for quiet.  These three all longed for some sheket.  First a cab driver, then my plumber (who would like to retire to Switzerland, the most antithetical place to Israel I can imagine) and then Cobi, our corner falafel stand owner and acquaintance, who spent 30 years in Australia before his French wife inspired their recent return.  Cobi says he is happy to be back, but it took a while to readjust.  He misses the sheket of Australia.  Life here is intense and can be hard; people work a lot, earning a living can be challenging and there is a lot of noise – not just about the Palestinians and the wars, but every day there is a commotion and the citizenry have what to say.  I have watched the Knesset meetings and ridden on the buses and waited in the lines and the noise takes some getting used to.  One morning I ran into Cobi on the street corner where he was delivering his 9 year old son to school and his son called out to him in Hebrew as he walked off:  Abba, did Syria make peace with Israel yet?  A little sheket would be nice.  And if I have a wish for this country, it is that Zoe’s friends will not have to go into Gaza or serve time at the Qalandiya Crossing like Hannah’s friends or my Israeli students.  I know for a fact that this country is a bona fide, see with my own eyes miracle for the Jewish people and when there is peace here, this will be the greatest country on the planet.

And now for some thank you’s and goodbyes.  Without sounding like we have just won an Oscar, we would like to thank everyone who helped make this year happen for our family.  In some ways, we really need to start with Pardes because their “yes” was the “yes” that started it all.  Thank you to our employers, Hillel Day School and Farber Hebrew Day School:  our wonderful renters, Mark Wilcox and Gail Sulkes, and wonderful landlords, Josh Weinberg and Mara Sheftel:  Zoe’s school, Ulpanat Horev, and our shul, Nitzanim.  Thank you to our families who supported us, especially my sister and mother’s caregivers.  Thank you to everyone who visited us this year; we loved sharing time with you here.  Thank you to all of the Israelis who so generously invited us into their homes.  And I would personally like to thank Seth and Zoe for initiating and implementing this adventure with such grace and courage.  You are my giborim.  Yala!

Most especially, thank you to our people on the ground here:  the Kashuks, Bernstein-Cohens and Pollocks.  From the minute we arrived, we felt like we had a built in family that made us feel welcomed and wanted.  The year would not have been the same without you all and I am grateful for the memories we have to take home with us.  We now return to our long-distance status; it will not be easy.  I am terrible with endings so I think it is time to stop.

I was talking to my health club friend, Rachel, about her Aliyah and she told me that the first time she came was after college when she studied at Pardes.  It was a life changing experience and at the end of the two years so many of her peers wanted to stay.  One of her cohort cried to her and said, “I don’t want to be like Joseph and come back as a box of bones.  I want to live here.”

So I would like to say a final thank you to God for granting us this amazing year of living in this country.  We will be back.  

Until then...What Happens in Israel stays with us.

BeShana Haba’a Be’Yerushalayim.

Next Year in Jerusalem

The Penultimate Post

Things have been pretty quiet here the last couple of weeks, as we count down our days until we have to leave.  

Zoe just had her last day of school.  They had some end of the year celebrations, and on her own she’s gone on some small outings/farewells with friends. went to the Dead Sea with Sheryl and Sheryl’s old friend Erit Gill, and the three ‘fakers’ are going back up to Tel Aviv on Sunday.  

Since we couldn’t get Zoe (nor Hannah, for that matter) to contribute to the blog all year, we can report that she really seemed to have  fully committed to the experience this year: she volunteered, was active in Bnei Akiva, took judo every week, worked so diligently at her studies, and seems to have made some really good friends.  (We won’t brag too much about how successful she was this year at school.  We’ll just say that if Horev had an honor roll, Zoe would certainly have been on it.  A little bragging about Hannah, who actually was invited to join Tel Aviv University’s honor’s program for Art History based on her stellar performance this year.)  

Last week the three of us went to Hebrew Book Week.  It’s held in dozens of cities across the country.  It used to be a great time to get books at a good discount, but since the bookstores all discount these days, it’s not as big as it once was. It remains a big deal, but now it’s less about the discounts and more about the cultural/literary events connected to it. We didn’t do any of those, but we did walk around one night, wandering from booth to booth.  Eventually Zoe found a helpful, knowledgeable clerk (we’ve dubbed her the Colleen of Jerusalem) who helped Zoe pick out a couple of books.  This year, for the first time, it was held in conjunction with the International Book Festival (which is just what it sounds like, but who expected their to be a whole booth for books from Roumania?)

You wouldn’t have known it by the crowds we saw, but the newspaper reported that Israelis read less than they used to.  Still, close to half say they read a book at least once a week. (Does that include text study?!)  And the Culture and Sport Ministry says there has been a 25 percent rise over the last four years in book borrowing from local libraries.

And a love for books would still seem to be a big part of the culture.  A couple of years ago the Knesset started its own “recommended books” event to coincide with Hebrew Book Week: Members of Knesset read excerpts of literature which they find personally meaningful and worthwhile. You can read some of their choices here.    

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Sheryl had a quick visit with cousin Karen Berger here on a culinary JNF trip.We had a lot of special visitors this year.  Some came alone, some came with groups, some with spouses, some with families.  Without meaning to hurt anyone’s feelings, we think a late entry receives the award for best old-married couple.Yossi and Katy were here for a friend’s wedding, and we got to spend a little time with them.  We met up at the shuk and took them to Azura, a family style restaurant in the Iraqi shuk.  It was good food, but just plain fun hanging out with them.  #Y&K6318

Sheryl had to get one last exercise adventure in before the year end. Couple of weeks ago, she and Allison went to a spinning marathon together.  Nothing too unusual about that.  Well, a little unusual.  If you notice, yes they are spinning overlooking the walls of the Old City.  It wasn’t the best workout but gotta admit that’s a pretty cool experience.

Zoe and I had our own attempt at an Old City experience last Friday. We hadn’t been to the Kotel for Shabbes all year. Personally, I still remember my first visit to the Kotel as a high schooler and being disappointed that I didn’t have a more “spiritual” experience.  I know others feel differently, and I’m happy for them but for me, I don’t always love davening there.  Still, I thought it would be sad to go the entire year without at least a little Shabbes experience there, and Zoe seemed to agree, so we made our way over.

Can’t remember if we mentioned the Old City shuttle in any previous blogs.  I think we might have.  Anyway, there’s this nice service that picks you up at the First Station and takes you quickly (usually in about 10 minutes) to the Dung Gate.  On Fridays, it ends its run about an hour before sunset, and so Zoe and I got there about 80 minutes before sunset to be sure.  We were a little disconcerted not to see anyone else there -- I assumed there would be others wanting to go too at that time/by that means -- but weren’t too worried.  But as we got close to an hour before sunset and the shuttle wasn’t there, I started to give up.  Zoe said we needed to wait until at least 10 minutes after the time.  After five minutes, though, I gave up and we started to walk.  Of course, who pulled up just as we were leaving but the shuttle?!  The driver asked us what time it was, and though none too happy, relented to giving us the ride.  

Zoe and I made plans to meet up, and I headed in.  Took about three seconds before someone grabbed me for Minha.  Now, I may not always love minyanim at the Kotel, but it’s a diverse experience that you just don’t find everywhere. There I was with a Gerer (I think) Hasid, some yeshivish guys, a happy tourist from New Jersey, etc. I remember as a kid my mom pointing out how you could see license plates from all over the country when you are at Greenfield Village.  At the Kotel, not only can you see all sorts of Jews, but people from all over the world.  We mentioned this in the blog on Yoms, but it’s really an everyday experience there..

More of the same by the time Kabbalat Shabbat rolled around.  I was looking for a good minyan to join when I heard a boisterous group singing Yadid Nefesh as they approached the Wall.  OK, I thought, I’ll join them. Turned out it was the boys from HaKotel. (Probably not the best group for me to have joined, as it was their last Shabbat of the year, and so I had to wait for not one but two fairly long divrei Torah.  Still, it was some good learning and davening, so who am I to complain?)  But looking around, there was more of that diversity.  There were other yeshivot, some guys from a Birthright trip, an army group, ‘regular’ people just meeting up, etc.  While I love that as a celebration of Jewish peoplehood, the volume and cacophony is not my ideal aesthetic.  In the end, though, I was glad, as I said, that I made time for it before the year was through.  Zoe and I met up, struggled our way through the crowds of people heading in, and had a lovely walk home.

We had tried a couple of times during the year to get together with Heddy and Seth Jacobson, long-time Swedish olim whom we met early in the year at the Kashuks.  Finally happened last Shabbes. They had us over for lunch, and we had a wonderful time.  Just really great people.  After the Pollocks they are definitely our favorite Swedish Jews!  We walked part of the way home with other guests of theirs, and only figured out then that we had mutual connections.  It’s a small world.

Our world is getting smaller even as we type.  Just a few days to go for Zoe, and only a couple more beyond that for me and Sheryl. We still have one more post to make before we go, however. Stay tuned.

What Happens in Israel...

The End is Near

Well, we have made it through a year’s worth of holidays.  The next up is Tisha B’Av and that is where we started. And by then we will be back in the States.

Our final Yom was Yom Yerushalayim.  The festivities began before the actual date of Tuesday night, May 23, through Wednesday. Trump’s visit made the city very hard to get around; security was fierce and his arrival on Monday, May 22, competed with the preparations for the celebration which this year marked the 50th year of reunification of Jerusalem.  He left the following afternoon right before the celebration started but more on that later.

On Sunday the 21st, while Seth was still in the States and Zoe was at judo, I met up with Brad Bernstein and Aviva Cohen for a special Jerusalem evening.  The Australian Friends of Hadassah sponsored a conference with the hospital’s psychiatric department on trauma which was right up Aviva’s alley (she is a psychiatrist who hails from Melbourne.)  The opening event was a dinner with a talk by Amos Oz and Aviva finagled lucky me an invitation.  To make this event that much sweeter, it was taking place at Beit Shmuel which is located right across from the walls of the Old City with the most spectacular views.

So the three of us made our way there by foot.  Why you ask? Combination of Yom Yerushalayim celebrations and Trump.  So many roads were closed.  (If I had one of those fitbits from this Sunday until I returned home on Wednesday night after Yom Yerushalyim celebrations, I would have logged a ridiculous amount of miles.)  It was a nice walk, though, through Yemin Moshe (in my opinion, the most photogenic of all Jerusalem neighborhoods; every inch is postcard worthy)

where we kept getting redirected by security because of closed roads, but we made it.

We arrived in time for cocktail hour and got to take in views while Aviva caught up with all of Jewish Melbourne who was there.  When we sat for dinner and the talk, it became clear that a good part of the crowd was not Jewish and had never been to Israel before.  I sat next to an Australian doctor, originally from Sri Lanka, who used the conference as an excuse to visit Israel for the first times and there were many others there with similar motivation.  Amos Oz was an interesting choice for a speaker at this conference but a very good one, in part inspired by his mother’s suicide.  He was riveting, a speaker who captivated the room and made us all feel as if we were having a very intimate encounter.  Aviva noted afterward that you could not have had the same experience if you watched a video of his talk as he really cast a spell on the room.  He has a way of being able to speak about difficult subjects in the most casual way and he was just fascinating.  His talk focused on his book, Tales of Love and Darkness, which is on my nightstand but I keep avoiding because I know how heavy it is.  (Kudos to Ayelet Pollock who just read it in Hebrew!)   But, in truth, his talk was about so much more:  the country, Jerusalem, his life, the creative life, his family.  To see this world renowned Jerusalemite author speak two days before Yom Yerushalayim was a gift.

When he finished they quickly set up a buffet of the most amazing food.  One of the newbie Aussies next to me asked if all conference food was like this. I said only when the conference is in Israel.  He said it was some of the best food he has ever eaten.  And this is a man who has traveled all over the world.  They had vats of Mqluba that were beyond.  I actually knew what this dish was because I had it earlier in the year at a great restaurant called Eucalyptus which serves local indigenous food.  It is a rice, chicken and vegetable dish which puts a lot of importance on the pot in which it is cooked. In smaller amounts the pot is flipped and pounded on.  It is a whole thing.

And then we were treated to the most spectacular event put together for the 50th celebration -- the sound and light show on the Old City walls.  We had the best vantage point in the city on the Beit Shmuel balcony overlooking the walls.  There were fireworks and light projections accompanied by a multi group concert from Sultan’s Pool below us.  It is hard to describe how creative and beautiful it was.  Here is a link to a brief video of the event and here is another amateur recording of the crowd singing along to Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah that was part of the show.  They love Leonard Cohen here.

The highlight for me was when a magen David (Star of David) appeared in the sky.  Out of nowhere.  I asked people how this was done and no one knew.  It was obviously not a light projection.  And then the magen David did a flip and disappeared.  Wow!  And then the number 50 appeared in the sky.  Out of nowhere.  I was baffled. Someone told me the next day that it was all done with drones. (Speaking of drones, during Trump’s visit, Allison and I were eerily accompanied on our park walk by a drone that hung mysteriously in the sky over the German Colony.  Security during this time was CRAZY!)

And when the show ended it was time to make our way home.  On foot.  No buses, cars, etc.  Tens of thousands of people were there and so all the streets around the main part of town were closed to traffic to accommodate for this. But we were prepared to walk and started down King David Street.  Things got more cramped as we approached the King David Hotel because the hotel was already in lockdown for Trump’s visit the next day.  We could not even walk on that side of the street.  (One of the hotel’s chefs comes to my spinning class sometimes and he told us on the previous Friday that the Secret Service was already ensconced and security was beyond tight, tougher than he had ever experienced for any previous head of state, including Obama.)  Aviva and I were walking with one of her father’s Melbourne friends who was here for the conference and regaled us with stories of his volunteering during the Six Day War. The weather was gorgeous and the streets were packed; it felt like the best holiday.  Magical night.  

Seth touched down a little after Trump the next day and we were all glad to have him back.  He wanted to be back for Yom Yerushalayim.  

So Tuesday, while Trump was making the rounds, I had a plan to visit Lauren Katz who was in town with the graduating seniors from Ramaz. She had the smallest of windows for a visit, as it happened between 2 and 3.  Hmmmmmm.  So I told her that I was not sure the buses were running but I would make my way to the Herbert Samuel Hotel smack dab in the heart of the city off of Ben Yehuda.  Miraculously, there was a #34 bus approaching my bus stop which normally takes me right to King George and Ben Yehuda.  Nice.  Hmmmmmm.

So I got on the bus.  We were making our way down Emek and low and behold right before Emek ends the street was barricaded and we were forced to make a left down a side street.  Let me sum up the issues:  the driver had not been informed that all major roads would be shut down between 2 and 3, thus he did not have an alternate route to take, thus he just followed traffic as it was directed from one barricade to the next further away from the center of town. My Hebrew and knowledge of the city’s landscape are both good enough now so that I understood exactly what was going on and where we were going.  Some guy in the front seat thought he knew where to go and was directing the bus driver.  Hmmmm.  By now I realized that I was not getting to Lauren soon and that my walk back to the city center was a long one.  When the bus was redirected away from Tchernichovsky Street and the passengers were talking about taking the Begin highway, I felt like I was being hijacked and thought it was time to leave. I felt bad for this rudderless bus of innocents being forced to ride out the barricades but I had to go. So I requested of the bus driver to be let off which left me at least a good half hour from Lauren and it was already almost 2:45.  

But I kept walking and as I approached Berlin and Azza I saw more barricades but now this was serious.  As I approached the intersection, a soldier took firm hold of his gun and told me to get back. I said I just wanted to ask questions, which he let me.  Long and short of it:  No cars, pedestrians, nothing allowed on Azza.  But this was only for the next 10 – 15 minutes.  Okay.  So I got a water from the makolet (convenience store) and decided to embrace the historic moment I was about to witness.  First of all, the military/security presence was crazy up Azza, dozens and dozens of soldiers and police.  People were being told they could not leave their apartments and when they exited their front doors they were sent back inside.  I glanced up at one point and discovered a sniper stationed on the apartment building across the street.  I took his picture.

See him up top there?  

I struck up a conversation with an American who decided to give into the situation and had his camera posed around his neck.  He said he used to live in DC on Pennsylvania Avenue so his whole life was like this for years.  We waited and then at a little after 3:00 we heard the sirens and Trump’s entourage was upon us. It took over 2 full minutes to pass; that is a lot of protection and accompaniment.  The final vans were press.  So now I can say “I was here when . . . . .”

When they released us, I texted Lauren to make her way to the Great Synagogue so we could still meet, otherwise, we would never have time.  And we made it.  We had an hour to catch up which was great although left us wanting more.  That entourage took Trump to a helicopter pad, and Lauren and I watched as the American helicopters took off for Ben Gurion Airport.  And then I made my way home on one of the buses, which were running now that Trump had officially left.  

That night, Zoe went to a Yom Yerushalayim celebration in town with friends, but Seth and I reserved our energy for the next day.  There were activities planned all over the city all day on Wednesday.  I was home for some of the day and put the tv on to see what I could understand and saw an interview with the three paratroopers captured in the famous 1967 photograph by David Rubinger.  You know it.  They are still around and friends.  I did not understand everything they said but I did understand when they said that it took them a little bit to realize where they were, but when they did everyone there just started crying.  Everyone.  Here is a little article about them.  

But we did not venture out until the dancing and marching in the late afternoon.  Zoe met friends in Sacher Park but Seth and I made our way to the Great Synagogue (On foot.  Uphill.  No buses again) where there was dancing in the streets before the parade.   The streets in that part of town were closed to traffic.  I shall show you what it looked like.    

This is Keren Hayesod in still life:  

There was crazy dancing and every yeshiva and seminary was there.

That big banner in the center is from the boys' counterpart to Zoe's school

There was a group from Madagascar

check out the traditional (?) headgear

and an Asian group from I have no idea where.  They traveled to be here to celebrate 50 years of the reunification of Jerusalem.  Crazy!

All of the previous yoms are truly national holidays.  Even Yom HaShoah feels like a national holiday when you are here, the State being so tied to our history.  But Yom Yerushalayim has a very different flavor.  First of all, a lot Israelis are not into it.  Especially, secular Israelis (living in and around Tel Aviv) who find Jerusalem so fraught with political tension that they do not feel it is anything to celebrate.  And Yom Yerushalyim is the one day of the Yoms that is very much about God and religion and peoplehood all rolled together.  Lots of kippot here.  The energy and passion of the young people was amazing to watch.  They danced and sang for hours before they started to march towards the Kotel.  

Seth and I decided to take a short cut and avoid the pace of the masses so we cut through Independence Park.  Even there there were large groups of revelers, overflow from the dancing in front of the Great Synagogue.  

Anyway, cutting through was a great idea, since on the way to Mamila we had the great fortune to run into Rabbi Schraeder who had brought his students from Yerucham for the day.  Here we are.  

A few of our friends, heading to the Kotel

Then Seth and I walked to the Jaffa Gate and just kept walking with everyone towards the Kotel. (Well, not exactly.  There is some controversy over this parade which we won’t go into here.  Suffice it to say, the parade takes two routes to the city, and we headed to the Kotel before the main group had really started.)

So, when we got to the Kotel it was getting crowded but still manageable.  

It would get more and more crowded by the minute.  The tekes wasn’t going to start for a while, but people were already dancing and celebrating.

Seth wanted to daven mincha so we separated and set a meeting place for half an hour later.  So I decided to also daven mincha and people watch.  In the women’s section, I came upon a group of women dressed beautifully who I knew were not from here.  Some had tshirts that said Nuvelle Caledonie which I recognized as New Caledonia so I looked it up on my phone:  A French territory in the South Pacific which obviously has people who cared enough about Jerusalem to get here on this day.  Christians are amazing in their devotion.  Later on I spotted them dancing when the band started.  Here is a video as the activities started to heat up at the kotel.  

The parade of people would keep arriving for another hour as they marched and danced through the streets of Jerusalem and the Old City but we left through the Dung Gate just as the big crunch was beginning.  

Seth and I had to walk around the walls to get back to Emek Refaim for our 9:00 meeting with Hannah and Zoe at the restaurant, Roza.  

Hannah had not seen Seth since before he left for Detroit.  She had gone with friends for a tiyul (hike) from Mivaseret back to Jerusalem in honor of the holiday and sported a new short haircut as she had been growing her hair to donate and finally cut it off.  She looks great.   Zoe had made a similar march and kotel visit as Seth and I with her friends.  We had all walked for miles but, happily tired, we were all together for the first time in weeks which was great. By the time we got home, Yom Yerushalayim was over.  What a privilege to be here for this.

Then last Shabbat we hosted Andy Zack and Bob Heinrich who were in town.  

Very fun to catch up! 

And then our final holiday for the year, Shavuot, took place Tuesday night, May 30.   Shavuot, that holiday of little respect at home that comes at a busy time of year when no one is in the mood to get excited.  Unless they like cheesecake.  Oh, this country does such a great job of preparing you for the next holiday. There were the cheesecake experts on the talk shows and discussions about whether cheese is healthy which was hard for me to follow so I never found out.  You always know what is coming up by the food that starts appearing in the stores and the pop up kiosks in the mall or by the signs posted all over the city for learning and concerts and plays and events.  You would have to try hard not to get excited.  So I got excited.

Plus we had visitors.  Eliana came in from Givat Shmuel with Hannah and stayed with us for the Chag.  In fact, most of young Givat Shmuel came in for the learning here.  When I say there was an embarrassment of riches for all night Shavuot learning that is an understatement.  For those who are not familiar, Shavuot is the holiday where we celebrate the receiving of the Torah and one of the ways we celebrate is to stay up all night learning Torah.  The learning in Hebrew around town filled an entire booklet.  For English learning we had our choice of Pardes, our shul Nitzanim, Beit AviChai, Yael Shul, the Begin Center and who knows where else.  And these talks were filled with heavy hitters.  Speakers who you would want to hear anytime of the year.  

After a minimal dinner with the five of us (highlight was the cheese danish cake Eliana bought us at Café Kadosh.  Can you imagine my happiness?) Allison came by and we grown-ups all started at Pardes where we divided up.  There were three speakers for every session.  Can you imagine?  Allison and I went to a talk by Judy Klitsner about why Moshe hit the rock and why he was punished. Great talk.  I wasn’t bored or tired for a second of the hour and a half that started at 11:30 PM.  Then we left for Nitzanim to catch the end of one talk, ran into Greenbaums, left Seth for the night, and we two giborot (heroes) made our way up hill to Beit AviChai at 1:15 AM to catch Daniel Gordis’ talk at 2:00 AM.  Long story short, when Allison and I got there, the session was closed.  Oh, we weren’t happy.  What to do?  So we two giborot turned around and walked home through this hopping city in the middle of the night.  At least it was downhill.  

After the learning sessions end around 4:00/4:30 many people make their way to the Kotel for the reading of the Book of Ruth and morning prayers.  None of us went to the kotel but the Goldmeiers did, which was a bucket list adventure for them.  (Well, at least for Laurie.)  This traveling to the kotel on one of the three festivals (Sukkot, Passover, and Shavuot) is called Aliyah b’Regel (literally, going up by foot) and mimics the ancient pilgrimage to the Temple. Phil and Laurie and anyone else who has done this say it is an amazing experience to be part of the gathering nation in this ancient ritual.  I was not up for it, but maybe one day.

And then after all the sleeping in, 11 Pierre Koenig, #1, was Detroit in Exile Central.  We had us, plus Eliana (honorary Detroiter), Yoni Nadel, 4 Greenbaums, Sanders (to whom we give no little credit for Hannah being in Israel) and, later, a Goldmeier visitation.  What fun. The younger people left for more evening learning but we mature folk stayed and schmoozed.

And now all the celebrations are over and we are in the home stretch.  We have made the definitive move of buying return tickets. But we are staying busy.  Seth and I are in ulpan.  I will be packing Zoe for her Drisha summer program in New York.  And I am starting to make those final meetings with people here.  Trying to get more time in before there is none to share.  We are looking forward to a few more visitors coming as well.

This was a long post but the next one will probably be my last.  Until then, Jerusalem continues to delight but it is all feeling a little bittersweet.  The pressure to savor things when they are fleeting feels too heavy for me, so I am a bit in denial.  It works.

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