Sabbath Dinner

Well, not really a Sabbath dinner, more like a dinner that just happened to be on the Sabbath (Shabbat). Before I came to Israel, Tova had planned for me to have dinner with these friends of hers because she really wanted me to meet them. I wasn't exactly sure why, or even very clear on who they were until we arrived and I could speak with them a bit. The dinner is a Friday tradition at their home. Tova's friends, a painter and her psychologist husband, usually invite their children and grandchildren along with a few friends for dinner on Friday nights. Since they are not religious Jews, there was no lighting candles or praying over wine. In any case, the dinner was lovely and I enjoyed meeting everyone.

The husband and wife were from Switzerland - they met in school in Bern, married there, and emigrated to Israel in the early seventies. They have lived intermittently in Bern and Jerusalem with their three sons since then. Since Tova is under the impression that I speak German, the dinner was pretty exhausting as the conversation flowed from German to Hebrew and back to German, and I tried to keep up with the German parts and not ask too many questions. Fortunately, there was a good bit of English thrown in for my benefit. The couple ended up talking a lot about their courtship in Bern, how beautiful the city is, arches and bell towers and everything. They even broke out some special Swiss cookies for us to have for dessert, specially delivered to them (best I could understand) by their dentist who recently made a trip to Switzerland and picked up the cookies by request in Basel (I think). While the couple reminisced about Bern, their two sons (who somehow grew up in Israel and still managed to speak high German) made fun of their Swiss accents.

Tova's friend, Yvonne, sought out Tova after seeing some of her paintings at the Israel Museum some years ago, and this is how they became friends. Yvonne is also a painter and sculptor, and we spent some time looking through her canvasses and drawings. She and Tova talked about difficulties Yvonne was having with this or that aspect of a certain painting. This all took place in German. I didn't even know Tova could speak German. The grandchildren who were running around the house could also understand German along with Hebrew, and one of them has a Brazilian mother, so he can speak Portuguese as well. That has been one of the most fascinating things here: everyone is a polyglot of some sort, usually speaking three languages or more. For example, the young guys who work at the front desk of my hotel speak Arabic (native), Hebrew, English, and French. The evening waiter speaks all those plus Italian and two different Arabic dialects. I have met people all over the city who can effortlessly glide from one language to another, and I am so envious of that ability. I wish the United States could somehow value this kind of linguistic freedom, rather than debating in Congress over forcing immigrants to learn English or complaining when roadsigns appear in Spanish as well as English (something I've heard in Nashville).

This is not to say that Hebrew is not the dominant language here; it definitely is. The point is just that it seems acceptable and even expected for people to speak other languages, and (in my experience) there is a general patience with that. Shabbat shalom.

Old Room, New Room

For those of you who were asking about my living space, here are pictures of the rooms I've occupied here. Since I changed my travel plans at the last minute to arrive a week earlier than I'd originally planned, the hotel's "regular" rooms were completely booked by the time I called to change the reservation. However, the "hostel room" was available, they told me, and it was $15 cheaper than the regular room. The drawbacks, as I understood them, were that the room had bunk beds and opened to the outside. I was assured that it was completely safe, and that after a week I could change over to my original reservation.

Well, it turns out that the "hostel room" doubles as the hotel's emergency shelter, complete with a giant air purification system and glow-in-the-dark emergency instructions posted on every wall. It was completely liveable, and aside from the fact that the shower opened (and leaked) into the room itself rather than the bathroom, and also that after dark I had to walk around the entire building to get to the lobby to ask one of my many questions, I really had no problems with the hostel room.

On Tuesday morning, my new room was available, so I moved upstairs. It's really a lovely room, with two big windows opening over the back garden, a bathroom that seems luxurious because the shower is actually inside it, and a desk where I can work. There is a reading light above the bed, which also seems luxurious, because in the hostel room I had to string a lamp over the emergency air purification system to read in bed, and I still had to get up in order to turn it off. So, now I am in $50-a-night heaven, and this has really been a warm and lovely place to stay.


The hostel room.


The regular room (my luxury suite!).

Flags and Lemonade

Below you'll find some photos of children I encountered on Jerusalem Day. I was particularly impressed with the industrious trio of Jewish boys in the first pictures who decided to capitalize on the Jerusalem Day fervor by setting up a lemonade stand (with a pretty impressive selection of drinks) in a stragegic location just inside the Jaffa Gate.

Jerusalem Day (Yom Yerushalayim)

Yesterday was the celebration of Jerusalem Day, the national holiday that commemorates the capture of East Jerusalem (from Jordanian control) during the Six-Day War, the reunification of the city, and the return of full Jewish sovereignty in Jerusalem for the first time in more than two thousand years. After the Israeli army captured the city in 1967, Jerusalem became the capital of Israel (written into law in 1980), and in 1998, Jerusalem Day officially became a national holiday.

The centerpiece of the celebration is the long march by thousands of Israelis from a park near the Knesset, through the city center, into the Jaffa Gate and through the Old City, culminating in the arrival of nearly 40,000 people by evening at the Western Wall Plaza. During the morning, I met a friendly father and daughter from Alaska who invited me to watch the flag procession from the roof of their hotel near the Jaffa Gate. It was an excellent vantage point as people began to trickle through the gate in late afternoon, and then a steady stream of marchers of all ages with flags, loud music, triumphant singing, clasped hands began to pour into the Old City on the last leg of the walk to the wall. The music and the vivid blue-and-white flags and the sheer joy of the Israelis in this ritual was intoxicating. It went on for hours. I watched first from the roof inside the Old City, then from a plaza outside the Jaffa Gate, where I could see the crowds of people filling the streets of the city center and filing down the Old City wall toward the gate. Had all the roads not been closed, and had I felt a little safer about walking home alone in the dark, I would have made my way immediately to the Western Wall to immerse myself in that wash of bright blue and white, the music and the dancing, and the exuberance of the moment.

Later that night, there was an incredible fireworks display over Jerusaelem, for which I had an excellent view standing on the rocks in front of my hotel. You could hear the cheers from the other side of the mountain, and I wished I could be there with them celebrating all that hope and new life and new continuity.

In a stark example of the deep tension and conflict that surrounds this city, there is another Jerusalem Day, this one celebrated in Arab countries in October and known as "Qods Day." This holiday garnered a good bit of attention in 2005 when the president of Iran used the occasion to call for Israel to be wiped off the map. In general, Jerusalem day in this context is a day of honoring Jerusalem (which of course remains a holy city for Muslims) and showing solidarity with the Palestinians. Click here for a BBC slideshow of Jerusalem Day/Qods Day protests in Tehran.

Below you'll find a selection of pictures from Jerusalem Day and the procession of flags. In the second picture, the religious Jewish man dancing on the van drove up out of nowhere, music blaring, jumped up on the roof and put on a pretty good show. I have no idea what the van says or why he was there, but the crowd really loved him.

Farewell Tour

On Tuesday, I spent the day with Michael, the Swiss UN military observer I met on Monday. It was his last day in Jerusalem, so we spent some time driving around to his favorite spots over his 11-month mission here on a sort of "farewell tour" of Jerusalem. Pictured above is the fancy UN car we drove all around the city. It seems that Israelis are a bit resentful toward the UN presence here, so I noticed some hostile stares here and there. On the up side, Michael can park the UN vehicle anywhere he wants, regardless of "no parking" signs. Fantastic.

We went first to a lovely and secluded rooftop cafe in the Old City, where we had a spectacular view of Jerusalem in all directions. We could look down into the square and watch the merchants and tourists, and the Dome of the Rock shone just above the rooftops. We were close enough for the midday call to prayer to come through extremely loudly, and a second mosque started a recorded call a few seconds later. It was very interesting to me at first, but quickly became irritating because the recordings go on and on, it's really loud, and the two different recordings created some piercing dissonance. In spite of the dissonant wailing, we enjoyed some really fabulous lemonade and conversation on the roof.


The view into the square from our rooftop lemonade cafe.


With Michael, the Old City rising in the background.

Next we went to Michael's favorite restaurant near the Jaffa Gate in the Christian Quarter, and had a delicious meal, the name of which I can't remember. It consisted of pita bread with tons of little items to put on the bread: hummus, eggplant, tomatoes, and several other things with elusive names. From where we were sitting outside, if I leaned my head back, it would rest against the Old City wall. While we ate, a small, beautiful bright green lizard darted from behind a pot and in and out of stones in the wall.

Later, we toured around Jerusalem to some of the best views of the city, and also drove by each of Michael's former abodes (and friend's houses, and grocery stores, and hairdressers, and pizza places that produce food poisoning). It was really a treat to see so many parts of Jerusalem I never would have otherwise discovered. I took some time in the late afternoon to meet Tova for an opening exhibition at the Israel Museum, which houses a large art collection and is also the site of the Shrine of the Book, the home of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Tova and I sat around the reception until she found the person who had invited her, then she suggested that we "split." She leaned over and asked me in furtive tones, "Do you think we should split? I'd like to split." It seems that Tova doesn't like crowds, so we split and headed to the Shrine of the Book. To see the actual pages from the actual scrolls, and to look at actual artifacts from the Khirbet Qumran community (including a sandal, a comb, an inkwell, and even a pair of scissors - all perfectly preserved), was really exhilarating.

I met back up with Michael for dinner at a Tapas restaurant (Spanish finger-food), and later we went to a live jazz bar which was playing a CD of Don McLean's greatest hits in lieu of live jazz (apparently this is the situation on Tuesday nights). We stayed and really enjoyed the CD, actually, even though "American Pie" might be the most hackneyed song in all of my young-adulthood. Michael finds the song to be quite moving, though, which is very charming. We drove a bit more around the city and took in some views of the stunning Jerusalem skyline by night. Since his mission is over, Michael is heading back to Switzerland this afternoon, so we enjoyed a lovely day together and said goodbye. I am so happy that we happened to sit in the same random restaurant on Ben Yehuda Street at the same random moment, and to have that coincidence give way to such spontaneous and immediate friendship. I learned so much, and I saw Jerusalem through a completely different set of eyes. For that, I am so grateful.

mmr

"Fence"

Snaking up the hill in the disance, you can see the wall that is being constructed to divide East Jerusalem from West Jerusalem, and will ultimately divide all of Israel-proper from the occupied territories. On the news at home, you might have heard it referred to as a "fence," but as you can see in this picture (click to enlarge), it is definitely a wall, and a huge one, more than thirty feet tall, topped with barbed wire and slicing through neighborhoods. Michael was describing to me how the somewhat arbitrary construction of the wall separated families in some places, the brother suddenly on the opposite side of the wall from the parents. People in such situations must now wait in lines at security checkpoints along the wall to visit family members and friends who were once a short walk away. However, since the construction has begun on the wall, suicide bombings in Jerusalem have fallen off dramatically, so it seems hard to say if it is a blessing or a curse. Spray-painted accusations litter the surface of the wall: "The Shame of Israel," "Paid by USA," and "No to Apartheid Wall." It is definitely a blight on the beautiful landscape here, and, in my limited knowledge, it seems to me that building such a wall leaves little room for forward movement (which, incidentally, is the literal meaning of the ruling party, Kadima: "forward") toward resolution of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

mmr

Be Careful!

I received several e-mails this morning, and each of them either opened or closed with "Don't ride buses!" and "Be careful!" This post is to let you know that I am staying off buses and being very careful here. However, I don't often feel like I am in danger because there is so much security. You can't walk into a grocery store, restaurant, cafe, or gift shop without passing through a metal detector and often having your bag searched as well. It's treacherous to walk around the shops with Tova, because she has a pacemaker and therefore can't walk through the metal detectors. As a result, for every shop we have to ask the shopkeepers to turn off the metal detector momentarily so she can pass.

Several people here have given me directions places, starting off with "Take the Number 4 bus to ..." When I respond that I don't ride buses, people roll their eyes and give a little speech about how the buses are perfectly safe, everybody rides buses, there hasn't been a bus bomb in years, etc. So I say, "I promised my mother I wouldn't ride buses." This is not entirely true, since I promised not only my mother but everyone else I know in the States, and also I don't particularly want to ride a bus myself. It's very effective, though, because it seems that no one wants me to break a promise I made to my mother. So I take taxis everywhere, spending $5-15 per trip depending on where I'm going. The downside is that I don't learn my way around at all, but I am slowly venturing out on foot from the hotel, and it's an easy walk to both the German Colony and the Old City. I try to stay away from the edge of the sidewalk, because I think I am in more danger of getting hit by a car in the crazy traffic here than I am getting blown up by a suicide bomber.

mmr

Ben Yehuda Street

After shopping with Tova, I decided to check out the big "mall" several people had told me about. It looked impressive from the outside, and there was a good bit of security to get in (metal detection, bag emptied and searched, etc.), but the mall was really disappointing. It was three floors, all the same store, something on the order of a Stein Mart, but more random. On the basement floor was a big grocery store, and that was actually the most interesting part.

Since I was close by, I decided to skip sightseeing for today and walk again on the pedestrian plaza at Ben Yehuda Street. I looked around a number of shops, bought a few things I needed, and mainly just watched people. It's fascinating here just to try and guess what different folks are up to. There are Orthodox Jews and tourists from all over mixed with secular Israelis, Arabs, and soldiers with machine guns. I know how to say "thank you" in both Arabic and Hebrew, but I find myself just saying thank you English more often than not because I am not quite sure about the person I'm talking to. I know that Hebrew would not be offensive, since we're in Jerusalem after all, but I want to say the right thing. I am just beginning to be able to tell the difference (barely) between Hebrew and Arabic when people are talking, but it's still a mystery. If a man is wearing a kippah (or yarmulke; small Jewish hat), then I know to speak Hebrew, but not all men wear kippot. So a lot of times, like this afternoon, I just stand back and watch.

The cheapest and most filling meal (also the easiest to order) here is falafel in a pita. It's basically deep-fried balls of ground-up chick peas rolled up in thick pita bread with sauce, salad, pickles, and creamy sauce. The first time I had it, the man asked me if I wanted fries, and I said yes. Then I learned that the fries go inside the pita bread and get rolled up with everything else, which is actually quite tasty. This afternoon, I found a falafel and schwarma shop along Ben Yehuda Street, so I had lunch at a table along the main street.

A little while later, two soldiers arrived and sat down at the table next to me for beer. They were speaking English, and they were wearing uniforms I didn't recognize, so I asked them who they were. Actually, I asked them, "So, what are you?" (an important detail because they teased me about it: "What are you? What are you?"). Both soldiers were unarmed military observers for the United Nations, one, from Switzerland, just getting ready to leave Jerusalem, and the other, from Australia, taking his place. They are working making sure that treaties and procedures are correctly observed by both the Palestinian and Israeli military. We had a fantastic time talking. It wasn't long before we were joined by an Israeli soldier (and his giant machine gun), another random Israeli guy, and a sixteen-year old American Jewish boy from Los Angeles taking a year off between high school and college to go to yeshiva in Israel. After he left, the soldiers referred to him as a great case study in American education, and they were probably right. He was stunned that Australia even had a military, and then when the soldier explained that Australian troops were in Iraq, the boy insisted that only American troops were in Iraq. He was even skeptical that Great Britain could be involved, much less any other countries. He asked me where I was from, and when I told him, he exclaimed, "Nashville! There are no Jews in Nashville! Isn't it just hicks and everything?" I told him that there were in fact some Jews in Nashville, and he said, "Yeah, but only a few, right?" He was surprised to learn that we have more than one synagogue and even a Jewish Community Center.

At one point, the boy started talking about how much he liked "chilling out" in Jerusalem. The Swiss soldier laughed, then told him that even after eleven months in Jerusalem, he could not imagine "chilling out" here because things are always so tense. What he meant was if he wanted to relax, he might go somewhere like Haifa or Tel Aviv or Netanya, but before he could explain, the Israeli soldier jumped in. "If you think it is tense in Israel, why does your country have the most suicide events [i.e., highest suicide rate] in all the world?" They went back and forth for awhile as the Swiss soldier tried to explain what he meant (in the process, he described suicide in Switzerland as "more private," which I thought was pretty funny). The American Jewish boy tried to translate all of this for the random Israeli guy, but based on the look on the random guy's face, he wasn't doing such a great job. Eventually, the Israeli soldier, the random guy, and the American Jewish boy left, and the Swiss soldier bought me a beer and the three of us hung around and talked for awhile. Tomorrow is the Swiss soldier's last day in Jerusalem, and I solicited an invitation to walk around the Old City with him. He knows a lot about the city and he's really nice, so I think it will be a fun time.


Ben Yehuda Street.


Falafel and Diet Coke.


With Dan (from Australia) and Michael (from Switzerland), UN military observers.

The Artist's House

This morning, Tova picked me up in a taxi with a friend of hers who was going to have one of Tova's paintings framed. We went first to the frame shop, where there was a lot of bickering about the color of the frame and the mat, followed by some awful tea (or coffee, I'm not sure) with the Arab store owner. From the frame shop, we walked to the Artist's House, a small gallery in a building that was formerly the art school Tova attended as a young woman in Jerusalem. Today, there are works by current students of the adjacent art school, along with photographs from the school in the 1920s and 30s. There were also a number of "ancient" (according to Tova) photographs of turn-of-the-century Jerusalem, including one group picture that showed a very young David Ben-Gurion.


Tova, her friend Etan, and the owner of the frame shop, Hassan, debate colors for framing Tova's painting.


With Tova and Hassan, having some kind of tea or coffee in a small courtyard behind the shop. When Hassan went back inside for something, I poured most of mine in the dirt behind me!


Tova in front of a photograph of early students at the Artist's House.

Snowglobe Jackpot

To my friend who collects snowglobes: It has been a fruitless search so far in Jerusalem. In a jewery and gift store today, however, I found this excellent snowglobe commemorating a Bat Mitzvah. Even at 30% off, though, I had to leave her behind. Sorry!

The Western Wall

The Western Wall (ha-kotel ha-maaravi in Hebrew) is the holiest site in Judaism. It is said to be a remnant of the original retaining wall of the Temple Mount, built by Herod the Great in 20 BCE. The Temple was destroyed in 70 CE, and the wall became a chief place for Jewish pilgrims to come and lament the loss of the Temple. This is how it became known as the Wailing Wall. Today, there was not much wailing, but there was a large number of soldiers with backpacks. I'm still not clear on what was happening, but I think the Western Wall might be their point of departure when they are called up. I was there for over an hour, and during that time, several groups of soldiers hurried to buses and sped away.

The Western Wall is also the spot where soldiers are sworn in for military service. The use of this religious site for many political activities (swearing-in ceremonies, visits by heads of state, etc.) is the source of some controversy in Israel. If you would like to see the live Western Wall-cam (24 hours a day, what's going on at the Western Wall), click here. To read more about the significance of the wall in Jewish tradition, click here.


Security and metal detectors at the entrance to the Western Wall plaza. Note the separate men's and women's entrances.


The Western Wall. In this picture, you can see the large men's section on the left, and the small and crowded women's section on the right.










A soldier writes a prayer before approaching the wall.

Mea Shearim

Here are some photos from my visit to Mea Shearim (MAY-ah sher-EEM), Jerusalem's ultra-orthodox Jewish neighborhood. This area is something like an Amish community, and dress is traditional to the extreme. Women and men are frequently separated, the community is incredibly insular and self-contained, and outisders are not welcome (see sign below). These photos give an idea of what life is like on a Sunday afternoon in Mea Shearim: the streets are extremely busy, people are in and out of shops, and kids are dashing in every direction on their way to afternoon yeshiva (religious school). In the very last picture, I am undercover Jewish in my white knit cap, long skirt and long sleeves. Tova is taking the picture.

So far in Jerusalem, the Israeli flag has been everywhere: windows, lamposts, balconies, car windows, covering gas stations (see below). However, you'll notice that there's not one flag flying in Mea Shearim. Most ultra-orthodox groups (such as the haredim) are also anti-Zionists, believing that to push for the State of Israel is to "force the End," which is the responsibility of the Messiah, not humanity. In addition, Zionism from the outset was not a religious movement, and religious Jews only became involved reluctantly in 1902. In general, Haredim do not support the state and will not recognize the draft.

House Church

On Saturday night, Tova and I attended a church service in an apartment in her building. When I had asked Tova about the group, she could only say that they called themselves "believers," talked about Jesus, and also seemed to have Jewish elements to their faith. She said they hoped she would become a believer, but also seemed content for her to remain Jewish and pariticpate in their community.

The group was made up of seven Americans, one Arab Christian, and one Jewish Christian. There seemed to be a clear leader - an older man from Kansas - so I asked him about the group's origins and beliefs. Turns out this is a Pentecostal church (Gospel Tabernacle for the Restoration of Israel, click here for a similar group), complete with tongues and constant appeal to Scripture. The pastor didn't speak in tongues at this service, but he admitted that he has the gift of tongues from time to time. I asked why it was so important for them to be located in Jerusalem. It seems that at the end of times (which is close at hand), God will convert everyone in Israel to Christianity, and it is the mission of this group to be here for the restoration of Israel. "The Jews didn't recognize the Messiah when he came the first time," this man explained, "So we need to be here as an example and to help them recognize the Messiah when he returns." I am still not clear on their reappropriation of Jewish symbols like the menorah (see photographs) or the use of the name Yeshua instead of Jesus, along with other Hebrew terms. It seems very Jews-for-Jesus-like in some respects, but there is no doubt that these folks are hard-core evangelical Christians. The husband of the young couple was constantly pointing to Bible verses to prove his points, and he was a little spooky in his ecstatic approach to reading aloud. His wife was even spookier as she stayed quiet and echoed his last few words every few minutes and said amen.

While the leader told me that they weren't there to proselytize, it was obvious that they had Tova in their sights and were set on turning her into a "believer." One of the women even started talking about how the sacrifice of the six million in the Holocaust and the sacrifice of Christ were pretty much the same thing. I asked Tova if these people knew about her family and her history, and she said they did. Periodically during the service - which consisted of an opening prayer, some testimony, a lot of singing, and a closing prayer - Tova leaned over and asked me, "Do you find this to be ridiculous?" In some particularly ridiculous moments, she whispered, "I think this must be very ridiculous."

It is not surprising that I didn't appreciate the theological outlook of this group, but I am surprised that Tova has put up with them for so long (about a year, I think). They are perfectly nice, and she seems to enjoy the company, so I guess there's really no problem. Tova's father was a rabbi, though, and I know that to some degree, Jewish practice is important to her, so I don't want the Pentecostals to mess with that. We have plans to talk about the whole experience tomorrow, so I'll see what she thinks.

Old City - Jaffa Gate

This afternoon, I walked from the hotel to the Jaffa Gate and went into the Christian Quarter of the Old City. The first thing I encountered after passing through the gate was a man trying to sell me a camel ride, along with a kid looking pretty enthusiastic about riding around the square on a camel. Even though a second man walked up and told me I would look very sexy riding on the camel, I ultimately declined.



Walking down from the hill, I had a nice view of the St. Andrew's Church and adjoining hotel. My hotel is the highest buildling in the photo (click to enlarge). The white rail across the top (to the right of the white dome) is the site of all the other pictures with the view of Jerusalem. The flag-bedecked building just below is the Menachem Begin Center.




The Old City, just inside Jaffa Gate.

Inside the Old City, I walked through a crowded (and seemingly endless) alley of shops, where I was (also seemingly endlessly) invited to have tea with shopkeepers. One jewelry stall owner invited me to tea and made me a ring on the spot with a lovely green bead. I had already told him I didn't have my wallet with me (I forgot to bring it), so I thought this was a pretty nice gesture. Once I finally navigated through the market area, I arrived at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. This is a pretty fascinating church where I had the opportunity to touch a piece of Golgotha and also the slab on which Jesus was (purportedly) laid to be buried. The building is divided into six parts because it is claimed by Catholic, Greek Orthodox, Armenian Apostolic, Coptic Orthodox, Ethiopian Orthodox, and Syriac Orthodox churches simultaneously. The Catholics, Greeks, and Armenians are in charge most of the time. It's kind of chaotic since different groups are in charge of separate parts at different times, so if you're in line for the sepulchre when it changes from Greek to Armenian, everything might stop for some kind of procession with incense and candles and you'll lose your place in line while they put a new person in charge. The groups don't seem to share the space well at all. I met up with three nice Mormon guys from Utah, one of whom had been to the church seven times and was a font of knowledge about its history. I tagged along with them and learned a lot as we saw the rock of Golgotha, the sepulchre, the slab where Jesus was (supposedly) anointed for burial, and two original Jewish tombs, the best archaeological evidence that this spot is the actual location of the Holy Sepulchre.


The rock of Golgotha, the mountain where Jesus was said to be crucified. You can actually reach down through a hole and touch the stone. The church was built around this rock outcropping.


The entrance to the Holy Sepulchre.


Jesus' burial slab.


Ancient Jewish burial sites.


My Mormon friends: Ace, Jason, and Robby.