Up, Up, and Away?

Andy and I go through a process every time we visit a new city.  If we’re really enjoying it there, we seriously contemplate the possibility of moving there.  It happened in L.A. when we were there together for a Ramah training program, it happened in Toronto on our maple-syrup-moon, and you can bet that we have had more than one conversation about making aliyah in the past couple months.  (And to be honest, with the way the government in the US is looking,  aliyah might be the best option… but don’t worry, we haven’t made any decisions yet).  Andy and I had just returned to Jerusalem from Haifa and were trying to figure out what it was about Jerusalem that made us feel so much more comfortable than we had felt in Haifa.  I think that the following (pointless) story can best illustrate the difference:

While we were in Haifa, eating was an effort.  Andy and I had to keep an eye out for Kosher restaurants, even though we had gotten used to assuming that Kosher restaurants are the norm (as they are in Jerusalem).  We keenly observed every kashrut certificate hanging outside a restaurant, and noted the word “kosher” on restaurant signs.  There were only three kosher restaurants walking distance from our hotel.  The food court at the mall had only two kosher restaurants.  We suddenly felt like we were back in the states (and not in New York, where there are plenty of kosher restaurants, but in Philadelphia, where the kosher restaurants are fewer and further between).  We found it quite difficult to eat while in Haifa.

We returned to Jerusalem just before Shabbas, and I ran out to a little corner store (makolet) quickly to pick up some hummus to bring to a friend’s house for dinner.  As I was walking home, I thought “I better check to make sure this hummus is kosher”, and then I realized that in Jerusalem, it is safe to assume that in most neighborhoods, most, if not all, of the packaged food you are going to buy is kosher.  So here’s the difference: in the states, as in Haifa, one has to be more diligent about kashrut while shopping or eating out, but in Jerusalem, one can assume a certain level of comfort with the kashrut of the food you are eating or buying.  It’s a privilege that Andy and I have in Jerusalem that we don’t have in the states—the privilege of being able to eat where ever we want without compromising on our kashrut observance.  To say it a different way—being Jewish in the states takes work, and effort, while being Jewish in Jerusalem is easy and comfortable.  (Although, maybe the point of “Judaism” is in the effort it takes to be separate and observe the mitzvot even while those around you are not).

It was precisely the acknowledgement of this privilege that led Andy to his most recent “let’s make aliyah” comment while walking home from a bakery.  The lady walking past us on the street also had an opinion—she looked at me and said “say yes, say yes!”  I will admit that I have never been more comfortable being an observant Jew than I have this year (and also strangely uncomfortable being a modern Jew) and that I enjoy being able to get a hamburger at most restaurants whenever I want.  But is that enough to cause me to make aliyah… we will have to see!

Majestic Views

Most people know that Jerusalem is holy to three major religions—Christianity, Islam, and Judaism—but we often forget to talk about the other religions that consider Israel to be a holy spot.  Andy and I visited one of these holy places a few days ago when we spent some time in Haifa.  I am talking, of course, about the Baha’i Gardens.  The gardens are considered one of the holiest places in the world to the Baha’i religion, and surround the Shrine of the Báb, which is the final resting place for one of the prophets of the Baha’i faith.  The gardens are carved into 19 terraces, which extend all the way up the side of Mount Carmel.  The gravel paths, stone walkways, indigenous trees and plants, and the fountains of flowing water all lend to a view that is serene, relaxing, and extremely moving.  More than once, I was almost moved to tears.

Our visit to the Baha’i Gardens was not the first time that I have had a deeply moving and spiritual experience at a site considered holy to a religion other than my own.  When I visited Israel in May 2011, I was fortunate enough to experience the Church of the Holy Sepulcher through the eyes of one of my Catholic friends.  We toured the church with the group, and then split up, waiting in line with a few others to enter what Christians believe to be Jesus’s tomb.  The art, the architecture, the structure and design of the church lend itself to an imposing and awe-inspiring image, which is enhanced when, at various intervals, monks from different sects enter the church together humming hymns of praise which echo throughout the building.

Both of these experiences help remind me that religion is fluid—a way of relating to a power higher than yourself as a means of explaining the unexplainable, and finding comfort in the unknown.  I think one of the most powerful things a religious person can do is to be moved by the religious experiences and holy sites of other religions.  After all, we are all just lost souls sharing the same journey and the same path, trying to make sense of a very confusing world.  I hope to have more deeply moving and spiritual experiences throughout my year here—not just at Jewish holy sites, but at holy sites to many different religions.  

Motza"Sh

In New York, if I want to get ice cream or dinner after Shabbat or chag (which I usually do), all I need to do is walk out of my apartment after doing Havdalah, walk down the street and find somewhere to eat.  This is because most of the restaurants (even some of the kosher ones) are open all throughout Shabbat and the holidays, and have been operational even while shomer-Shabbat Jews have been doing the Shabbat thing.  Andy and I learned the hard way that in Jerusalem, this is not the case.  A few weeks ago, we ran out shortly after Shabbat ended to pick up a few things that we needed for the apartment.  We actually wound up sitting around waiting for about an hour, because the store hadn’t even opened yet!  If you want ice cream or dinner in Jerusalem after chag, you’re going to have to wait while the shop owners (many of whom are shomer-Shabbat themselves) end Shabbat, get in their cars, and drive to work for the first time in 25 hours.  They will need to set up their businesses for the night before you will be able to get your snack or ice cream. 

In the States, I always just took it for granted that society continued to function as usual on Saturday, and that I might be missing out on something.  Living in Jerusalem and being shomer-Shabbat, however, has actually allowed me to function as part of society on Saturdays, since most stores and restaurants are closed, and all of the people in my neighborhood are doing the same things I’m doing—walking to shul, hosting meals, and spending the day with friends and family.  Sure, you might see some cars on the roads, and some non-Kosher restaurants might be open, but society as a whole in Jerusalem is observing Shabbat.  Even though I have to wait an hour after Shabbat to get ice cream or sushi, I really enjoy being greeted by a store owner saying “shavua tov” (the traditional after-Shabbat greeting wishing everyone a good week), instead of feeling like I’m a joining a race already in progress.