Jerusalem Diaries:In Tense Times

Those Holy Walls

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Tue, 13 Jun 2023 19:12:00 +0000

Jerusalem, January 17, 2001--Esther Shlisser is crying as she approaches the imposing Huldah’s Gates on the southern side of the Temple Mount. The tears express the frustration, fear and disappointment of the 66-year-old Jerusalem native tour guide as she leads a group of English speakers through the Southern Wall excavations.

Shlisser’s blunt manner and encyclopedic knowledge are renowned among Jerusalem repeat tourists and residents who flock to her side to learn more about the Holy City.

But these days, Esther, a brunette with birdlike brown eyes and raspy voice, is exasperated with her government and her people.

At the western corner of the Southern Wall, she yells for us to watch out for the dog and pigeon feces dotting the ancient steps.

“Oy lanu (woe to us) that we allow this,” she exclaims. “This place has the same kedusha (holiness) as the Western Wall, it was built at the same time. Where is am Yisrael (the people of Israel)? Come here, let’s clean the place. If we don’t think it’s holy what do you expect from our government,” she continues.

“Those who believe that the Western Wall is our only holy site are liars," she states.

Shlisser points to a huge pile of ancient stones on the western side of the Mount and indicates the hole they were dug from. She explains that holiness is not in the stones but in the place, the site. Once stones are removed from their holy place, they lose their meaning.

We’re the only group present in the area until a family with another English speaking guide shows up. This too is upsetting to Shlisser. She tells us she comes every afternoon to daven mincha (the afternoon service) at Huldah’s Gates on the southern wall. Under the Clinton proposal for Jerusalem approved by Prime Minister Ehud Barak, Israel would lose control over the Southern Wall, retaining sovereignty only over the Western Wall and Jewish Quarter.

“I don’t call it the Jewish Quarter,” Shlisser declares. “You can see a Jewish Quarter in Venice, a Moslem Quarter in Amman. Jerusalem IS Jewish....” “And, by the way, you don’t have to go to Poland to see destroyed synagogues—just look at the Old City under the Jordanians.”

Before we move on to the majestic plaza of the Southern Wall, Shlisser directs our attention to a newly discovered mikveh (ritual bath) a few yards in front of the wall. Archeologists have determined it’s from the Second Temple period and there are hundreds of mikvaot in the area. This was where the pilgrims arriving to pray at the Temple would ritually purify themselves before ascending to the holy site. The discovery is yet another proof of Jewish claims to the Temple Mount.

“What, did Moslems ever use a mikvah?” Shlisser snorts.

“At the base of the wall we see the remains of the stands where the Temple offerings were sold. “This is not Universal Studios,” she says. “We’re walking in the steps of Hillel and Shammai.”

Shlisser reminds us that there are 11 parshiot (Torah portions) which speak of the Beit Hamikdash, and 248 mitzvot (commandments) which relate to the Temple. “And today we don’t do enough for the Beit Hamikdash--what are YOU doing?” she asks us pointedly.

As we walk further along the Southern Wall, the sweet song of a lone bird breaks the heavy silence as we contemplate Esther’s words.

She stops to point out the windows of the Al Aksa Mosque that dot the upper part of the southern wall. Above them, two new layers of stone have been added by Arabs over the past two months.

Shlisser is outraged at the violation of the holiest Jewish site in the world. “I called the police about it. They told me they know all about it and it’s being done with our permission,” she relates incredulously. “We are so stupid. Even the Crusaders didn’t dare build at Har Habayit, she spits out.

Before us we see the imposing Hulda Gates.

In the first Temple period the area was called the Ophel--from the root “to ascend” because large numbers of Jews arrived to worship from the City of David to the south, just below. During Second Temple times there were two sets of Hulda Gates that are still visible today, even though they’re completely blocked by huge stones-- one triple arched gate, and one with double arches. Only a portion of the double arch is visible today having been blocked off by the wall built by Suleiman the Great that dissects the Temple walls. Atop the wall sits barbed wire and a small security booth manned by an official from the Wakf--the Moslem Religious Authority that maintains de facto control over the entire Temple Mount area.

The Mishnah (Middot 2:2) describes theses gates and the way in which people ascended and descended to the Temple. The steps are of uneven size so that running away from the Temple would have been impossible.

Today, even though many of the steps leading up to the gates have been reconstructed, the tunnels used by the Cohanim are clearly visible.

We stand for a few moments at the top of the steps before the imposing gates that lead to the Temple Mount.

With my eyes tightly closed I feel as if I am transported back thousands of years and my body could melt through the stone and emerge on the other side in the radiance of the Temple.

Esther sheds her tears, and we move on.

Sukkot in Israel Goes On During COVID

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Wed, 22 Sep 2021 07:00:00 +0000

1. You can’t get on a bus or ride the light rail without being poked in the rear by someone’s stray lulav.

2. Usually, Sukkot is one of the busiest tourist seasons of the year. All those luxury apartments that lay deserted during 50 weeks of the year are suddenly populated and lively. Needless to say, while Israel and most of the world are in phase 4 of the COVID-19 pandemic, those overwhelmingly religious, English or French speaking well-heeled tourists are few and far between. Tour guides are hurting, but hotels are booked with Israelis who would normally be heading overseas for the holiday.

A Jerusalem sukkah. Photo: © Judy Lash Balint

3. There's a constant clang of metal poles and the sounds of hammering are everywhere as Jerusalem’s apartment dwellers hurry to build their sukkot and squeeze them into small balconies, odd-shaped gardens and otherwise derelict rooftops.

4. The sweet smell of etrogim in Jerusalem’s Machane Yehuda market is overpowering. Huge crowds descend on a lot on Jaffa Road near the market to vie for the most shapely lulav and etrog.

How big is YOUR etrog?

5. You’ve never seen such gaudy sukkah decorations in your life—unless you’ve been to WalMart on Christmas Eve. Kiosks manned by bearded Haredim are selling gold, green and red tinsel hangings, made in China, and exact replicas of Christmas decorations in the old country.

Photo: © Judy Lash Balint

6. City workers spent the last few weeks, before the shmitta year, in a frenzy of tree-trimming. The municipality deposits huge piles of schach (palm fronds for the roof of the sukkah) in major city squares, and citizens are invited to take as much as they need for free.

Help yourself to schach in Jerusalem. Photo: © Judy Lash Balint

7. This holiday, the thrice-yearly observance of the ancient ritual of Birkat Cohanim –the Blessing by the Priests–that takes place at the Western Wall during the intermediate days of Sukkot is being held on two separate days, limited to 8,000 participants per day. In a normal year, tens of thousands descend on the kotel to be blessed.

8. Another tradition that’s fallen victim to COVID-19 is the annual open house at the official Presidential Residence on Hanassi Street in Talbieh. Newly minted President Yitzhak Herzog will have to find another opportunity to press the flesh.

9. Like Christmas tree lots back in the US, empty city lots all over Jerusalem are taken over to sell sukkot of every size and description. Some are marketed by large companies and feature the latest space-saving technology and hardiest materials, while others are simpler affairs made of tubular piping and fabric walls. Every kosher restaurant in town has a sukkah of some kind and each boasts bigger and better holiday specials to entice customers.

10. Since the entire week of Sukkot is a national holiday, you’ll have a tough time deciding which festival/event to take part in. There’s the Tamar Festival at the Dead Sea; the Coffee Festival at Jerusalem’s Museum of Islamic Art; the Kite Festival at the Israel Museum; the Haifa International Film Festival and the Storytelling Festival in Givatayim to name just a few.

11. Touring the country is another favorite Sukkot activity and political and environmental groups of all stripes are promoting trips to “See For Yourself.”

12.Israel's Ministry for Senior Affairs posts newspaper and Facebook ads asking for seniors who need help with putting up their sukkah to call a hotline number to request a volunteer.

13. Not to be left out are the tenacious Christian evangelicals who normally flood Jerusalem in their multitudes from all corners of the world to celebrate the Feast of Tabernacles. This year, the International Christian Embassy of Jerusalem (ICEJ) will host an online Feast, leaving many downtown merchants devoid of a good chunk of tourist income.

14. Another prominent group of tourists largely missing this year are the refugees from the young American frum singles scene who make an annual migration to Jerusalem from the Upper West Side for Sukkot. Discreet meetings of earnest, well-scrubbed, modestly dressed, twenty and thirty-somethings take place in all the major Jerusalem hotel lobbies. A bottle of water or diet Coke on the table next to the guy's black hat is the give-away that it's a date.

15. Finally, as ever, the weather is perfectly coordinated to the festival and a sign that am Yisrael is home, exactly where we’re supposed to be. No more of “I had to put up my sukkah in the pouring rain,” as one friend from the old country complained.

16. As we spend time in our sukkot here in Israel, remembering our fragility and the temporary nature of our worldly existence, the sun filters through the gaps in the leafy roof and the gentle breezes flap the flimsy walls and we look forward to a week when most of the country takes seriously the words, ושמחת בחגך והיית אך שמח. “You shall rejoice in your festivals and be fully happy.”

Moadim l’simcha chagim uzmanim l’sasson!

Ready or Not: Rosh Hashana is here.

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Sun, 05 Sep 2021 14:00:00 +0000

1. Anyone venturing into the shuk or even a local supermarket in Israel this week could be forgiven for thinking that a famine was imminent. Shoppers laden with huge nylon bags of every kind of produce, fish, meat and bread may be seen staggering under the weight of their purchases, secure in the knowledge that they have sufficient provisions for the two days when stores close for the holiday.

2. Certain foods are traditional to eat on Rosh Hashana, and the markets are full of the most beautiful pomegranates, succulent dates and crisp apples. Almost all the produce is local—pomegranate trees grow everywhere, even in private gardens; dates are from the Jordan Valley and apples from the Golan.

3. For some, the two-day Jerusalem shutdown of entertainment and shopping is a little much. One of my more secular neighbors informed me she's running off to a hotel in Tel Aviv for the duration. Tel Aviv's beaches are generally packed on every holy day.

4. Other secular Israelis, however, are intrigued by the pre-Rosh Hashana traditions. Nightly selichot tours take place in the Jewish Quarter of the Old City, the Bukharan Quarter, Nachlat Shiva and Nachlaot. Swarms of Israelis who generally spend as little time as possible in any synagogue, suddenly get nostalgic about the sights and sounds of other faithful Jews who crowd into the quaint synagogues of these old Jerusalem neighborhoods to butter up God before the High Holydays in late-night prayers. It's the Sephardic congregations that host the most melodic recitations of penitential prayers in the month before Yom Kippur.

5. Turn on the radio any time in the weeks between the date school starts and Yom Kippur, and it’s a sure bet that on any station you’ll hear a version of Adon Haselichot (Master of forgiveness), a traditional prayer of repentance with a particularly catchy Sephardi melody, You can even download it as a ringtone…

6. Newspaper polls report that only 47 percent of Israelis plan on attending synagogue services to pray during Rosh Hashana, but hotels all over the country are reporting high occupancy rates. The traffic jams generated by all that coming and going are truly monumental. In the hours leading up to the leyl Rosh Hashana family dinner, it seems as if the entire country is on the roads.

Roads anywhere near shopping centers have been packed for days now, so we should be used to it.

7. A uniquely Israeli tradition is the "haramat cosit" literally, "lifting of the glass", in honor of the New Year. Government ministries, corporations and municipal offices all host toasts where wine and good cheer flow.

8. The fleet of diplomatic vehicles double-parked outside the official presidential residence is an indication that President Isaac Herzog is hosting the diplomatic corps for the traditional New Year bash. No doubt, the foreign emissaries were discussing the tensions of the day, which this year, once again, include the Iranian nuclear threat and Hamas and Hezbollah on our borders. And for the second year running, COVID-19.

9. Forget about trying to get any workers to come to fix or deliver anything. “Acharei HaChagim”—after the holidays, is the standard refrain, that means that you won’t be seeing anything done until the day after Simchat Torah.

So as we prepare to sign off for a few days of introspection and stocktaking, we take this opportunity to wish Jewish readers and their families a year of health, fulfillment and success—oh yes, and peace and quiet.

Count the Ways You Know Pesach is Coming To Israel

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Tue, 23 Mar 2021 19:54:00 +0000

Even as Israel emerges from the year of COVID into what will become our new normal, most of the unique Israeli Passover traditions in 2021 are back after a one year hiatus.

1. The Israeli Army presses into service some 200 IDF chaplains including reservists, to commence the massive task of kashering the hundreds of kitchens, mess halls and eating corners used by soldiers all over the country.

2. Street scenes in Israel change every day before Passover according to what is halachically necessary: In the days before the holiday, yeshiva students wielding blowtorches preside over huge vats of boiling water stationed every few blocks on the street and in the courtyard of every mikveh. The lines to dunk cutlery, kiddush cups and the like start to grow every day, and, at the last minute, blow torches are at the ready to cleanse every last gram of chametz from oven racks and stove tops lugged through the streets.

Photo: Judy Lash Balint

3. No alarm clock needed here--the clanging garbage trucks do the trick as they roll through the neighborhood every morning during the two weeks before Pesach to accommodate all the refuse from the furious cleaning going on in every household. Two days before the Seder there's the annual pick-up of over-sized items and appliances. Dozens of antiquated TVs and old toaster ovens stand forlornly next to the garbage bins on their way to the dump.

4. The day before Passover, families replace the yeshiva students on the street, using empty lots to burn the remainder of their chametz gleaned from the previous night's meticulous search. In vain, the Jerusalem municipality sets up official chametz burning locations and issues strict orders banning burning in any other areas. Yeah, right!

5. Most flower shops stay open all night for the two days before Pesach, working feverishly to complete the orders that will grace the nation's Seder tables.

6. Meah Shearim and Geula merchants generally run out of the heavy plastic used to cover counters and tables early in the week before Pesach.

7. Observant Jews mark the seven weeks between Passover and Shavuot by carrying out some of the laws of mourning--one of these is the prohibition against cutting hair, so good luck if you haven't scheduled an appointment for a pre-Pesach/Omer haircut. You won't get in the door at most barber and beauty shops.

8. Nearly two million Israelis (23 percent of the population) are living below the poverty line, according to the latest report by Israel’s National Insurance Institute. Mailboxes are full of Pesach appeals from the myriad of organizations helping the poor celebrate Pesach. Newspapers are replete with articles about selfless Israelis who volunteer by the hundreds in the weeks before the holiday to collect, package and distribute Pesach supplies to the needy.

9. The biggest food challenge to ashkenazi, non-kitniyot (legume) eating Jews is finding cookies, margarine etc. made without kitniyot, but a few ashkenazi rabbis are coming out with lenient rulings regarding legumes.

10. Since most of the country is on vacation for the entire week of Pesach, all kinds of entertainment and trips are on offer, now that the majority of the country has been vaccinated.

11. Pesach with its theme of freedom and exodus always evokes news stories about recent olim. This year, despite COVID restrictions, 20,000 made aliya from 70 different countries.

12. According to Israel's Brandman Research Institute study, 43 million people hours will be spent nationwide in Israel's cleaning preparations for Passover this year. How does that break down? Of those cleaning hours, 29 million are done by women and 11 million by men. Paid cleaners make up the remaining 3 million hours at a cost of NIS 64 million ($19.5 million).

Photo: Judy Lash Balint

13. Israel's chief rabbis sell the nation's chametz to one Hussein Jabar, a Moslem Arab resident of Abu Ghosh. Estimated worth: $150 billion, secured by a down payment of NIS 20,000. Jabar took over the task more than 15 years ago, after the previous buyer, also from Abu Ghosh, was fired when it was discovered his maternal grandmother was Jewish.

14. At the Kotel last week, workers performed the twice-yearly ritual (pre-Pesach and pre-Rosh Hashanah) of removing thousands of personal notes from the crevices of the Kotel to bury them on the Mt of Olives.

15. Guess who's Buying matza? According to Iyad Sharbaji, the manager of Gadaban Supermarket at the entrance to the Galilee Arab town of Umm al Fahm, his matza is consumed entirely by local Arabs. Sharbaji told Haaretz that he generally stocks up on matza for Passover and has to replenish stock before the end of the holiday due to keen demand by locals.

16. It turns out the avid consumption of matza is not a new trend in Arab towns and villages, whose inhabitants view the traditional Jewish food as nothing more or less than a welcome and refreshing change in the menu. "It's not a religious issue, and certainly not a political one," Sharbaji explains.

17. The Passover theme of freedom and exodus in Israel even extends to criminals. Israel Radio announced that 700 prisoners will get a furlough to spend the holiday with family.

18. According to the Ministry of Agriculture, Israel’s fishmongers will sell 1,100 tons of carp, 80 tons St. Peters fish and 300 tons of mullet this Passover season to satisfy the tastes of gefilte, as well as Moroccan-style-chraime, fish eaters.

Photo:Judy Lash Balint

19. It's expected practice for companies to give their workers gifts on Passover (and Rosh Hashanah...) The Tovanot Market research firm found that some 1.5 million workers in Israel receive gifts from their employers at this time of year. Vouchers for supermarkets and electronics stores and online gift cards are the most common holiday presents.

20. This year will be the second Passover without tourists, but many hotels are reopening and Israelis who normally flood Ben Gurion airport to fly away for the Passover break are now spending their shekels on homegrown vacations in Eilat, Nahariya, Jerusalem or the Dead Sea.

Meah Shearim: 7 Minute Drive to Another Universe

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Tue, 06 Oct 2020 11:11:00 +0000

Lockdown fever hit with a vengeance yesterday, so arming myself with my government-issued press card, I jumped into the car with no destination in my mind, just the overwhelming desire to see something besides my own neighborhood.

After driving listlessly through the center of town, where there was the odd sight of empty street parking spots in the middle of the day, I turned onto historic Haneviim Street and then made a right turn into the street leading down to Kikar Shabbat.

The night before, Kikar Shabbat, the main intersection cutting through the Geula and Meah Shearim Haredi neighborhoods, had been the scene of violent clashes between male residents and police who had arrived to try to enforce lockdown laws prohibiting mass gatherings.

We're in the middle of Sukkot, one of the three pilgrimage festivals, when tradition calls for the recreation of an ancient ritual associated with the Temple: the Simcha Beit Hashoeva ritual--the rejoicing at the place of the water drawing. Essentially, it's a party. Singing, dancing, loud music and drinking. En masse.

In normal years, there are parties everywhere with the best Israeli bands performing at open venues all over the country. This year, almost all such events are going on without an audience and we're Zooming in to watch. Except in some Haredi neighborhoods. That's what the police came to shut down. Stones were thrown at police officers and cars and many on both sides were injured.

As I drove through the next afternoon, taking pictures of the Sukkot-lined streets with my cellphone, all was quiet. Plenty of people dressed in their holiday finery walking on the streets--very few wearing a mask. Clusters of young men and teenage boys smoking were hanging out mask-less on street corners. But the usual atmosphere of Sukkot gaiety was definitely absent. People are subdued.

Bukharan Quarter. Photo Judy Lash Balint

Surveying the crowded small, winding streets and alleyways, it's easy to see why these neighborhoods are Red Areas for COVID-19. Imagine social distancing with a large family in one of these sukkot? The majority of people wandering around with no mask. Thousands attending funerals of rabbis and synagogues where Health Ministry guidelines are ignored. Yes, just like at the mass political protests taking place less than a mile away.

Meah Shearim Street Photo: Judy Lash Balint

An eerie feeling comes over me on the short 7-minute drive home. There's so little traffic on the streets in the middle of what is normally the most insane holiday time, when tour buses and thousands of tourists and pilgrims descend on Jerusalem.

All but essential shops are closed. Cafes and restaurants whose sukkot would be bursting with customers are silent. Every hotel, apart from those being used to house Corona-positive or quarantined Israelis, is dark--on Sukkot, the high season to end all high seasons.

There's a road block at the beginning of Derech Hebron, one of the main north-south streets of the city. Police are checking every car to make sure drivers have a good reason to be more than 1 km. from their homes.

Sadly, one of the effects of the pandemic has been an erosion in the sense of national solidarity and mutual responsibility that normally emerges during times of national crisis. It's exactly twenty years since the outbreak of the second intifada and the feeling today couldn't be more different. Back then, we were all confronting a different type of existential threat, and the country pulled together as terror struck every sector of society. Today, when a runaway pandemic threatens everyone on equal terms, the different factions point the finger instead of hanging together and taking the steps necessary to help combat the plague.

What will it take to get us back on the mutual responsibility track?

Israel Faces Yom Kippur in a COVID World

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Tue, 29 Sep 2020 09:33:00 +0000

It wasn't your grandmother's Yom Kippur. This year, as Israel's COVID-19 infection numbers climbed to the highest per capita in the world, Israelis who generally anticipate and savor the silence of a traffic and media-free country for one serene day, were forced to deal with considerations other than quiet.

For those who generally head to synagogue for all or some of the Yom Kippur services, we were left to decide whether it was even worth the risk to show up. A note from the rabbi of one Jerusalem synagogue I sometimes attend wrote an email to let members know that a man who had been at Shabbat services the previous week had tested positive for Corona. The rabbi was now in isolation (bidud—learn that Hebrew word!) and suggested to anyone who had been in close proximity that they get tested.

That was almost enough to put me off going on Yom Kippur. Government and health ministry guidelines regarding the correct synagogue set-up were issued at the last minute, so WhatsApp and e mail messages buzzed around even a few hours before the Kol Nidre Yom Kippur eve service was scheduled to start.

In the neighborhood synagogue I usually go to, attendance was by reservation only, with several “capsules” of socially distanced tables arranged both inside and outside the building. The rabbi told us ahead of time that he’d tested the acoustics and the davening could easily be heard from outside. Fortunately, the building sits at the edge of an urban park, so a dozen of us were able to space out behind the building amongst the trees.

My husband and I shlepped our camping chairs and took up a comfortable spot under the stars for Kol Nidre, with no one else anywhere near us. I have to admit, it felt liberating to be outside the confines of the synagogue.

During the day there was no shade and with temperatures of around 91F, we chose to use the printed guide for those praying without a minyan (prayer quorum of 10) and went through the service at home in our shady yard.

When it came time for the closing Neilah Service at around 5:30 p.m, it was sufficiently cool that we once again took up our places in the park and watched as dusk turned to darkness and the moon rose bright in the heavens as the shofar blasts marked the end of this strange Day of Atonement.

The park behind our Jerusalem synagogue. Photo: Judy Lash Balint

Last Yom Kippur, in our packed synagogues with little more to care about than who was joining us to break the fast, who could have imagined that the next time we would read “…who by storm, who by plague…” that many of us would be profoundly affected by those horrors.

Here’s to a New Year that will be better than any of us can imagine now.

Remembering the Disengagement: The Tragic Demise of Gaza's Jewish Communities

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Sun, 26 Jul 2020 17:52:00 +0000

The 2005 destruction of more than twenty thriving Jewish communities in Gush Katif, part of the Gaza Strip, was one of the most painful and heart wrenching episodes of my twenty two years in Israel. In the run up to the terrible event itself, I spent many days in the region, writing about the people and the efforts to try to stop the destruction. What follows in this ultra-long post is my diary of those tense days exactly fifteen years ago. The seeds of what Israel has endured from Gaza over these past fifteen years were sown back in 2005.

Click here for a Jerusalem Diaries Gush Katif picture album.

Click here for the Jerusalem Diaries podcast from the 10th anniversary of the disengagement.

The Leadup

Shirat Hayam, Gush Katif

At Palm Beach there are no sun umbrellas, no crowds and no traffic jams to impede a drive on a sunny spring day alongside the bright blue waters and the pristine sand.

That's because Hof Dekalim (Palm Beach) is in the Gaza Strip, about 15 miles south of Gaza City. But Hof Dekalim is also less than a mile away from the Jewish community of Neve Dekalim in the Gush Katif area of the Strip, and just a few minutes up the beach from the tiny Jewish beach communities of Shirat Yam and Kfar Yam.

It's difficult to understand, particularly for anyone who has not visited the area, the real meaning of Ariel Sharon's disengagement plan. The image of a few thousand Jews embedded in communities in the midst of millions of Arabs, guarded by platoons of IDF soldiers are what prevail.

The real picture of 21 thriving, economically productive communities peopled by idealistic and industrious Jews, separated from the Arabs of Gaza and living on terrain whose beauty far surpasses that to which East Coast Americans run every winter, rarely emerges.

Gush Katif is the micro version of the state of Israel. The country is surrounded by hostile Arabs, as are many Israeli communities, so why the retreat mentality for Gush Katif? Jewish settlement in the area was founded during the Hasmonean Period and continued in Gaza City for two thousand years until the riots of 1929. The remains of the 7th century Great Synagogue of Gaza are supposedly protected by the 1995 Interim Agreement of Gaza-Jericho.

To confront the reality, make the two-and-a-half hour scenic drive from Jerusalem that will bring you to the Kissufim checkpoint half-way down the Strip. As in Judea and Samaria, Gush Katif residents travel in and out at all hours of the day and night, some in protected vehicles, some in regular cars.

There is heavy military presence at Kissufim, despite the fact that Israel actually disengaged from Gaza 10 years ago in May 1994. According to the Gaza-Jericho Agreement, Israeli troops withdrew from the area with the exception of forces protecting Jewish communities. Today, the Kissufim road has been denuded of the trees and Arab houses that once lined the road and that provided cover for a series of murderous attacks against Jews driving in the area.

Kfar Darom lies to the north of Kissufim on the main north-south road that dissects the Strip. The scene of repeated mortar attacks, Kfar Darom is a main commercial center of Gush Katif (Harvest Bloc). The community's claim to fame prior to Sharon's retreat plan, was for the bug-free produce sold in every supermarket and exported worldwide.

At the packing plant, work goes on as if nothing were amiss. New immigrants work at the conveyor belt, shoving romaine lettuce into plastic bags bearing a rabbinic hechsher.

Since my last visit more than a year ago, a new row of homes has been built. Thanks to Kfar Darom's openness to resettling immigrants from the Bnei Menashe, the village has doubled in size over the past three years, with 80 families now making their homes behind the concrete barriers protecting them from the neighbors in Deir El-Balah.

The majority of Jewish communities in Gush Katif are clustered together about a mile south of Kfar Darom, miles away from Gaza City and the Jabalya refugee camp. Unlike many moshavim and kibbutzim in the rest of Israel, Gush Katif communities are economically self-sufficient. The high level of production and state-of-the-art technology has produced extraordinary results. Netzer Hazani farmers lead the nation in cultivation of cherry tomatoes; at Moshav Katif, it's the dairy that lays claim to being one of the largest and most modern in the country; Atzmona boasts a thriving nursery that raises houseplants, as well as being the leading producers growing organic potatoes for export.

Driving between the villages through the sand dunes, with picture-perfect glimpses of the Mediterranean Sea and stately, tall palm trees dotted all around, it's hard to believe that this is a place that experiences regular shelling or any kind of violence. We drive on roads forbidden to Palestinian Authority Arabs, with only the occasional military vehicle in sight. Teenage hitchhikers stand at the entrance to every village, and the general quiet is broken only by the scream of an Israeli jet overhead.

Almost every car and the gate to every community is adorned with a blue and red poster proclaiming the slogan that Gush Katif residents are trying to impress on Likud voters: Dismantling settlements is a victory for terror. It's a message that is being carried throughout the country in a systematic door-to-door campaign mounted by the local council.

Armed with lists of Likud voters, teams led by Gush Katif teenagers and retirees are fanning out to ask Likudniks to look them in the eye and tell them they're still going to vote to dismantle their homes. Reports coming back to campaign central command indicate that the reaction has been mixed. Neve Dekalim resident Rachel Saperstein, a teacher at the local girls high school, recounts that several of her students are shocked that some people won't even open the door to them.

Neve Dekalim, at the center of the group of communities, appears to be command central. It's here that the foreign journalists descend on a daily basis to interview English, French and Spanish speakers and local political figures. Teenage activists man a large blue tent at the entrance to the town and politely hand out background material, CDs and bumper stickers.

More than 500 families now live in Neve Dekalim in tidy single-family homes surrounded with gardens bursting with color. There's a central square with small shops, a zoo, a central library, eight synagogues and an industrial zone. Two yeshivot and a women's college complement the elementary and high school educational institutions.

Neve Dekalim

Inside the hesder yeshiva at Neve Dekalim is an artistic interpretation of the 1982 destruction of Yamit, a town of 2,000 families in the northeastern Sinai, given away to Egypt as part of the Camp David peace deal. Then-Defense Minister Ariel Sharon was the one who convinced Prime Minister Menachem Begin that Yamit would have to go.

Many people from Yamit pioneered settlements in Gush Katif. Among them was Esther Bazak, today a fiery, auburn-haired grandmother and one of the founders of Neve Dekalim. Esther explains that almost every house built in Neve Dekalim has one wall rescued from Yamit. The glass and white ceramic of the Yamit monument opens up to the beit midrash (study hall) of the yeshiva. The meaning is clear.

"It's destruction and continuation," Esther says.

In the late afternoon sunlight, the courtyard of the two main synagogues is filled with modestly dressed women of all ages quietly reciting Psalms. The women have been gathering every afternoon at 5:00pm as their part of the campaign to prevent the retreat. There's no idle chatter here, just the quiet whispering of ancient words of comfort and hope.

A similar atmosphere prevails at the Mechina (pre-military training academy) located in Atzmona, one of the communities closest to the Egyptian border, a little more than a mile south of Neve Dekalim. Two years ago, five students were killed at the Mechina when a terrorist lobbed two hand grenades into a packed classroom during evening study. Eli Adler, the American-born rabbi who was teaching the class that night, notes that applications for places at the remote academy have risen significantly since the terror attack.

"Nothing has changed with our boys since then," he says. "We're deepening our roots here."

As he speaks to a visiting group in that same classroom, facing the memorial plaque for his students and the cabinet labeled 'Emergency Equipment', a heavily armed student patrols the academy grounds.

The heaviest visible army presence is reserved for the 13 couples and families living out the fantasy of many a veteran of the '60s and '70s. Who didn't want to be living on the beach, next to the surf, under the endless sun? But the residents of Shirat Hayam have more than sun and fun in mind.

Shirat Hayam is a collection of mobile homes, donated by the Norwegian friends of Gush Katif, sitting directly on the beach across the road from Neve Dekalim. The first settlers moved in 2001 into old abandoned summer homes last used by Egyptian officers prior to 1967. The move was a concrete way for several young people to channel their grief over their friends murdered in the Kfar Darom terror attack a few months earlier. Today, military guard posts protect their presence there.

No soldiers are needed to guard the nearby deserted Palm Beach Hotel, which once accommodated foreign tourists and Israelis looking for an idyllic, secluded, kosher Mediterranean beachside getaway. Doors flap in the breeze, and weeds cover the open-air dining area, tennis courts and mini-golf course. A few local students occupy some rooms, but there's a sad air of abandonment about the place.

It's hard to conceive that this will be the fate of one of Israel's most productive and naturally beautiful areas. It's even harder to assess the impact the unprecedented destruction of thriving Jewish communities by a Jewish government will have on Israelis and Jews worldwide.

In the year leading up to the Gaza retreat there were many protests attended by hundreds of thousands of people. At one, Arik Sharon's face is lightly covered with perspiration as he addresses the crowd: "The people aren't tired, it's the leadership that's tired," he booms out over Tel Aviv’s Rabin Square, packed with more than one hundred thousand supporters in April 2004.

But wait--in the background, the faint but distinct chant of "Ehud Habayta--Ehud, Go Home," may be heard. Indeed, it's not Arik live at the rally in Tel Aviv, it's a video clip of his speech at a demonstration during Ehud Barak's administration, when Sharon exhorted the people to stand strong and resist the proposed land giveaways proposed by the Labor government.

The clip is a main feature of the protest that brought more than 120,000 Israelis out to the streets (according to official police estimates) under the banner "Israel Will Not Cave In."

The massive crowd packed into the central Tel Aviv square was unusually quiet. Apart from a few pockets of rowdy yeshiva students who tried unsuccessfully to whip the crowd into a booing frenzy at the very mention of Sharon's name, most people present--Sharon voters, to be sure--didn't quite know how to react to the footage, or to the speakers who pointed to Sharon's apparent cave-in to external and internal pressures.

On the huge dais set up in front of Tel Aviv's City Hall, sat two long rows of cabinet ministers and Knesset Members. Many are members of Sharon's ruling Likud party. Ruby Rivlin, Gila Gamliel, Uzi Landau, Micky Ratzon, Ehud Yatom, Yuli Edelshtein--to name just a few. But prominent Likudniks Ehud Olmert, Limor Livnat, Bibi Netanyahu and Danny Naveh all chose to stay away in a show of loyalty with their leader.

English and Hebrew signs display both the disappointment and resolve of the dissident Likudniks who feel strongly that Arik Sharon has abandoned them and their traditional Likud ideology. "Likud Loves the Land of Israel, Not Sharon" reads one. Another picks up the theme of the rally with a banner that proclaims, "The Likud Doesn't Want to Cave In."

Beginning with a few moments of silence in memory of victims of Arab terror, the event kicks off with a poignant film clip of the remnant of the Cohen family from Kfar Darom. In November 2000, the Cohen kids sustained devastating injuries when their school bus was bombed in an attack widely believed to have been planned by one-time Palestine Authority security chief, Mohammad Dahlan. With tremendous spirit and faith, the Cohens have rebuilt their lives with their children using prostheses to approximate a return to normal childhood activities.

Rabbi Ofir Cohen, head of this extraordinary family, is invited to come forward to recite a Psalm and the prayer for the well-being of the Israeli Army.

Speaker after speaker denounces Arik Sharon's plans to dismantle Jewish communities in Judea, Samaria and Gaza, citing the futility of anything resembling a withdrawal as a path to peace.

National Religious Party leader, Effie Eitam, reminds the crowd how they had been the backbone of support for Operation Defensive Shield launched in 2002 by Sharon in reaction to the deadly string of terror attacks that culminated in the Passover Park Hotel massacre.

"We'll support you again if you do the right thing," Eitam rhetorically tells Sharon. Citing Libyan leader Muhammad Ghadaffi's pledge to disarm and the Coalition successes in Iraq and the capture of Saddam Hussein, Eitam asks, "After all that, is Israel going to let a terrorist like Arafat out of the mukata (his Ramallah compound)?" Are we now going to let him come out, make the V sign and declare victory?" Eitam asks. Boos and catcalls rebound to the stage.

Picking up steam, Eitam publicly tells Sharon that the people in the square will not be his partners in the destruction of Jewish villages or turning Jewish families out of their homes. " We won't go along with you in this. Peace does not require the destruction of Jewish life and property," he declares.

Minister of Tourism Benny Elon draws reference to Sharon's speech of two years ago. "Don't think this people is tired," he says. " This is a people that does not want to be cut off from its traditions, its Torah, its history OR its land," he emphasizes, as the crowd roars their agreement.

Musical interludes break up the speeches--popular singer Shimi Tabori, a secular Sephardic artist launches into the lively, "Al Tirah Yisrael--Don't be afraid, Israel." Everyone joins in the chorus.

During the program, many foreign news media outlets come to get close-ups of the English signs that dot the front of the crowd. Many sign carriers are veterans of many such rallies and know exactly how to position themselves to take advantage of the opportunity to broadcast their message. Two slogans that attract a lot of attention are: 'Evicting Jews Won't Bring Peace,' and one directed at US Secretary of State Colin Powell and US Ambassador to Israel Dan Kurzer that urges the two Americans to stop treating Israel as if it were a US colony.

Only one MK, the young, secular Gila Gamliel, a former student leader, brings home the point that this is not a "settler" rally. "We're all settlers--those in the center of the country, in Jerusalem, in Eilat," she states. "And who is my teacher and mentor in these matters?" Gamliel asks. "None other than our prime minister."

Ultimately, the Sharon administration ignored the mass protests and forged full speed ahead with the plan to “relocate” thousands of Jewish families.

A few weeks before the evictions, I headed over to Nitzan, one of the sites designated for temporary housing for the Gush Katif refugees. A few months earlier, watermelons were just beginning to ripen in the field between Ashdod and Ashkelon. Now, the watermelons have vanished and 350 caravillas have sprouted in their place to provide temporary housing for some of the families losing their homes in the Gaza withdrawal.

Two weeks before the authorities are scheduled to close down their community of Nissanit in the northern section of Gush Katif, the Dahan family is filling out stacks of paperwork in one of the model homes that serves as an office in the new Nitzan development. The young couple and their three small kids are among the first in line to choose one of the compact 670 sq.ft. mobile homes that sit in neat rows baking in the fierce summer sun. Yoav Dahan says he wants to be rid of the uncertainty of not knowing where his family will be living once Nissanit is dismantled.

Families with more than three children are eligible for the larger 1000-sq.ft. version of the same yellow prefab house that includes two bathrooms and four small bedrooms.

Jewish National Fund workers labor feverishly to try to beautify the area by planting grass and flowerbeds as well as 500 mature sycamore, carob, eucalyptus and olive trees to provide shade for the new residents. According to Israel government sources the land will eventually be returned to agricultural use with the temporary residents encouraged to build permanent housing just up the hill to expand the small existing moshav Nitzan.

Emotions run high at the site. Many of those who arrive to stake their claim to one of the small cookie-cutter homes have endured month of uncertainty and frustration from SELA, the government office charged with overseeing the compensation and resettlement side of the disengagement. Almost all those arriving at Nitzan are leaving homes double the size of where they’ll find themselves for the next few years. Many Torah observant families have seven or eight kids—one woman being shown around a caravilla who asked not to be named, said her grandchildren would now have to visit her in shifts.

Religious-secular tensions have surfaced as original promises to designate two of the three areas for Torah observant families have fallen by the wayside. The majority of the 1,500 Gush Katif families is observant and wanted to be resettled together with their original community members. But since it’s the less ideological people from the secular Gush Katif villages of Nissanit and Elei Sinai who have decided to leave voluntarily, they’ve had first pick of the homes and they’re not in any one area of Nitzan.

As the Dahans and others from Nissanit wander listlessly around the site, representatives from the cable TV company hand out lollipops and promotional material. Moving vans unload furniture outside one or two houses that begin to look occupied.

Caravillas at Nitzan 2005

Off to the South. July 18, 2005

“How are you getting there? How are you getting back? Are you taking your kids/letting your kids go? Is there any point in going? How will the police and border police react to us? Are you staying for all three days?”

These are questions my friends and I have been asking each other for the past few days as we weigh up how to peacefully express opposition to the Gaza retreat plan and join the gathering that we hope will offer support to the thousands of Jews in Gush Katif who are about to be kicked out of their homes.

I'm off in a few hours to drive down with a group of fellow travelers to test the limits of Israel's democracy. Already, the authorities have declared day 2 and 3 of the march as illegal, since they refuse to give permits for the assembly. We're the wimps--we're going to the legal part that's due to start late this afternoon with a mass prayer gathering at the tomb of the Baba Sali in the southern town of Netivot. Our thinking is that the media and political forces will be counting heads there and it's important to have as strong a showing as possible to start the thing off. We'll try to drive back tonight and then go back down on Wednesday as the group moves toward Kissufim, the entryway into Gush Katif.

Organizers have repeatedly exhorted participants not to engage in any kind of verbal or physical violence with IDF, police or border police, but a favorite tactic of our Shin Bet secret police is to place provocateurs inside the ranks of right wing organizations6 who then initiate the most extreme acts that are then blamed on those groups.

Many commentators keep on referring to the fact that Gaza retreat protestors are breaking the law by engaging in demonstrations without permits, or that Gush Katif residents who refuse to show ID cards in order to get to their homes are acting against the law and "that's going too far," as popular radio talk show host, Judy Nir Mozes said last week. Well, for those of us raised in western democracies, we can only reflect on the fact that it was also against the law once upon a time in the great US of A for African Americans to sit at the front of a bus or eat at a whites-only diner. It was also against the law for Jewish activists in the former Soviet Union to teach Hebrew or to gather to demonstrate for the right to emigrate. Would anyone suggest today that those activists should NOT have broken the law for their principles?

Tonight we'll see whether Israel can tolerate mass opposition to government policy (wouldn't it have been easier if we could just have had a referendum?)

Meantime, the Kassam rockets and mortars keep on falling --not just in Gush Katif, but over the past few days dozens have slammed into nearby Sderot and the kibbutzim just inside the Green Line. Offers to host hundreds of kids from Sderot whose summer activities have been cancelled pour in from all over the country.

And the adults? They're just trying to stay calm as they become the new frontline of the latest episode in Israel's seemingly endless border war.

August 2, 2005

So here we are again--almost two weeks after the last orange mass gathering to protest the Gaza retreat--and it's time to decide whether to head down south again this afternoon for another round. Despite all the wonderful words written by those who stuck it out for three days at Kfar Maimon (I made it to the Netivot gathering point on the first day and then headed home...) about the spirit of the people and their determination and expressions of love for the police and IDF, today I'm not convinced that pitting ourselves against the forces who are charged with carrying out the government's loony policy is necessarily the best tactic.

Back in Nitzan, one week before the withdrawal, and only 125 out of the 350 units have been completed. A few dozen additional units are in the process of being erected at several other sites at existing kibbutzim and moshavim in southern Israel and Disengagement authority employees have informed some families that they’ll be sent to hotels until they’re ready. In other words, some families will have to move twice in a short period of time.

The government decision to create a housing development at Nitzan has raised the ire of environmental groups who point out that the area is adjacent to Israel’s last undeveloped sand dunes.

Yair Farjun, manager of the nature reserve near the beach said it would be a disaster to turn the area into a settlement. Farjun acknowledged that the removing Gush Katif families from their homes was not only a material sacrifice but an ideological one. But he insisted that there is “no excuse to make an environmental sacrifice too, there’s no justice in it,” he added.

A few miles away in Moshav Maki’im, JNF work crews have cleared and leveled 400 dunam (100 acres) of land so the Gush Katif flower growers can quickly re-establish their thriving hothouse plant industry. Ten families will each get 40 dunam on which to erect their hothouses. The first of the farmers already has his flowers growing in the new environment.

“If only the transfer of people were so easy,” sighs JNF southern district project manager, Elisha Mizrahi.

PART 2
Every February, tens of thousands converge on Netivot to commemorate the anniversary of the death of the revered rabbinic scholar known as the Baba Sali, a Moroccan sage who died in 1984. For the other 364 days a year, Netivot is a sleepy southern development town.

Yesterday, when the Yesha Council used Netivot as a staging ground for what was billed as the biggest anti-Gaza retreat protest yet, the people of Netivot didn't know what had hit them. As hundreds of private vehicles adorned with orange ribbons crawled into town one by one through the sole traffic light off the highway, the children of Netivot ran out to beg for the ribbons.

Old ladies leaned over their balconies to watch the excitement below, and shopkeepers sent salespeople into the crowd with coolers full of cold drinks and ice cream.

Suffice it to say that Israel's democracy took a beating yesterday as the police acted Soviet style by issuing an order declaring the mass demonstration illegal and then taking the next step by sending officers to bus stops all over the country to physically prevent people headed for Netivot from getting onto buses. Bus drivers were taken in for questioning to explain their participation in "an illegal act."

Despite all that, tens of thousands of those committed to exercising their right to voice their opinion did manage to make their way down to Netivot by whatever means possible.

Many organized carpools in their neighborhoods; others stood at highway junctions to hitch rides and some even set out on foot. Some 200 people from the northern town of Kiryat Shmona walked 10km before succeeding to persuade bus drivers to take them as far as Netanya.

I'd made the decision to take a few friends down in my car and since we left early before the buses had been scheduled to depart, we had no difficulty making it into Netivot. Pulling up at a parking place in front of a house on Jabotinsky Street just in front of the Baba Sali's compound, we encountered the lady of the house, who came out to ask what all the people were doing there in Netivot when it was long past February!

If the goal of the event had been to show widespread opposition to Sharon's plan, it failed miserably. Not because of the numbers of participants--everyone knew that if the hundreds of buses scheduled would have arrived, the crowd would have swelled to nearly 100,000. No, the problem wasn't the number, but the composition of the crowd and the program implemented by the Yesha Council.

The hysterical tone of the young M.C who opened the event, and the interminable speeches by a long line of rabbis, combined with a lengthy prayer service, all led to a feeling that this was a religious revival and not a political protest.

I counted maybe ten secular people present among the thousands standing around under the broiling sun. There were barely any women not decked out in the religious long skirt uniform, nor hardly a single man without a kippa. For many watching and/or taking part in the event, it just served to reinforce the (erroneous) notion that the only people who care about what's happening to Gush Katif and the northern Shomron are observant Jews. But which secular person who flies an orange ribbon on his car antenna in Jerusalem (and there are many, many such people) would shlep down to Netivot to stand for hours at a religious rally? Would they come to a show of political strength outside the Knesset in anticipation of Wednesday's vote to postpone the disengagement--maybe...but as far as I know, no such thing is scheduled.

The Yesha Council has evidently given up on the battle to persuade non-religious Israelis that the security implications of the withdrawal will affect us all. Indeed, the most recent polls show that 50 percent of Israelis approve of Sharon's plan, 30 percent oppose it and (as Israel's southern communities come under an escalating barrage of Palestinian missiles) a growing 19 percent are undecided.

I'm just off to a briefing from a couple of psychologists who are supposed to tell us about the psychological impact of the Gaza retreat plan. Without stepping foot through the door of the conference center, I can already definitively say that the whole disengagement thing isn't doing much for our collective sanity.

I'd Rather Be at the Shuk.

In conversations with some friends, it's clear that some people are eager to get down to a mass demonstration just so they won't feel like they've missed a happening. They want to say they were there--and this is not only young people, by the way.

The YESHA Council that's organizing things seems determined to make life as difficult as possible for demonstrators--and the demonstrators are happy to comply with the most difficult conditions again just to prove that they've got more of a commitment than anyone else. Tonight, the mass gathering starts at Sderot, just a hop skip and a jump from Gush Katif--but what's the plan? Oh, we'll go on an 8 mile march to Ofakim, in the opposite direction to Gush Katif, so that we can spend the night there and then leave the next day (when it's 88 degrees outside) for another 15 mile little trek to the Kissufim entryway into the Gush.

Everyone knows what will happen miles before Kissufim. The security forces will carry out their orders to prevent entry of anyone besides residents into Gush Katif-- and what will we achieve in terms of how we are seen by the rest of Israeli society? What will be the consequences of this rift after the evictions are over? Already, a group of wives of police officers issued a statement last week urging a cessation of the verbal abuse directed against their husbands.

These are the discussions that dominate every conversation between friends these days--I generally seem to be in disagreement with most of my friends, who seem to have their blinders on about how this effort is tearing us apart and who don't want to recognize that we have failed to bring the majority to our side. Still, none of us knows how we'll be able to deal with seeing the PLO flag hoisted on August 17 over the remnants of thriving Jewish communities that we've destroyed all by ourselves.

I'd much rather be writing about the Machane Yehuda shuk in the center of Jerusalem that's overflowing right now with the bounty of the land--including the specially packaged bug-free lettuce, celery and herbs grown only in Gush Katif. The fantastically succulent fresh figs that are in season; the ripe grapes, nectarines, peaches, lychees and sabras that overflow the stalls. The lush mangos that sell for 50 cents a pound; the carrot juice that's squeezed in front of your eyes for $1 per cup and the alluring spices that fall out of their sacks and attack your senses as you walk by. The warm, fresh pita that gets snatched up as soon as it's out of the oven and attracts appreciative whiffs from everyone on the bus going home...

Plenty of shoppers in the market sport orange ribbons around their bags, but more likely than not, they're not headed down to Sderot tonight. When the dust settles and the wounds are licked, they're the people who'll carry us into the next phase of our tumultuous existence in this land of ours.

EVICTION DIARY:
Wednesday, August 17, 2005

EARLY MORNING: Hundreds of teenagers and young people converge on the Kissufim junction into Gush Katif from the surrounding fields where they'd hiked through the night to come to do anything to try to stop the evictions. Many of them were arrested, others managed to outrun the Border Police and escape back to the fields.

8 a.m. 50,000 troops and police arrive to take part in the Gush Katif destruction. As the platoons of IDF, Border Police and regular police arrive by the busload and get into formation, we can see the pain and unease written all over their faces. Many pull their hats down over their faces to escape recognition from the press cameras.

All the troops are unarmed, carrying only water bottles and backpacks. The temperature quickly begins to climb into the upper 80s.

The communities slated for destruction today are Ganei Tal, Neve Dekalim, the largest town in the Gush; Atzmona, Bedolah and Morag--all in the southernmost part of Gush Katif.
The sounds of the shofar are heard from Bedolah.

In Neve Dekalim, some of the hundreds of teenagers who have infiltrated the area over the past few weeks set fire to tires and garbage cans. One of the residents quickly shows up to douse the flames and yells at the teens to allow the residents to conduct the painful process with dignity and without violence.

The youngsters congregate in the two main synagogues and negotiations start up between the specially trained IDF conflict negotiators and community leaders. The IDF would like to encourage the protestors and residents to leave without force.

Synagogue in Gush Katif 2005

One resident, Yedidya Fridman, states categorically: "We're staying. This is a criminal act. WE are not the unfortunate ones--we have direction, commitment to ideals, we'll go on with clear consciences. It's YOU, the evictors who will have trouble after this."

GANEI TAL 9 a.m.
Here, like in every community, residents and teenagers try to engage the soldiers in dialogue to try to persuade them to refuse the order to evict Jews from their homes. Soldiers have been trained not to react, and they look down at the ground, or over the heads of their interlocutors.

Most interesting--as the columns of soldiers and police march in formation into the communities, many of them look around in wonder at the beautiful places they've been sent to destroy. Like most Israelis, many of the soldiers have never been to Gush Katif before and you can see the astonishment on their faces as they look around.

10 a.m. A dreadful scene unfolds in front of the press. A totally distraught father, bearded, wearing a knitted kipa and glasses, holds up his 8 year-old daughter and screams at the impassive line of soldiers: "Here, take her: expel her ! That's what you came for, didn’t you?--here, do it!"

10:30 a.m. Ganei Tal: A burly 6'5" tall soldier bends down to comfort a 10 year old boy in an orange T-shirt. The boy wipes his tears with the bottom of his shirt as the soldier pats him gently on the back.

NEVE DEKALIM 10:45 a.m.
Reporters from all over the world are running around in their red baseball caps. A few attempts by the Yassam unit to capture some of the hundreds of teens milling around the entrance to the community are captured on film, with smoke from burning tires in the background. A busload of teenagers is sent out of Neve Dekalim.

MORAG 11 a.m.
Incredibly it's the air force that has been dispatched here to do the work. Thirty-four families lived here until last week. Several have already left, but their ranks have been strengthened by some 200 teenagers from outside. 2,500 soldiers and Border patrol march in, accompanied by two huge bulldozers that start to dig huge trenches just inside the gates.

A number of kids run towards the hothouses behind the community--a dangerous place to be, since they're in range of enemy fire from Rafah.

A few yards away from the grinding bulldozers, a couple of two year-olds play in a plastic bucket of water oblivious to everything that's happening around them.

NEVE DEKALIM 11:30 a.m.
More than a thousand men and an equal number of women are stuffed into two separate synagogues. Dialogue goes on between IDF negotiators and community leaders as to how they will leave.

MORAG noon
Soldiers show up to empty out the kindergarten. Sobbing fathers hold on to their toddlers who suck contentedly on their bottles. After a few minutes of pleading with the blonde commander, one of the fathers asks everyone to cover their heads while he recites Psalm 121:
I lift my eyes up to the hills-
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
the Maker of Heaven and Earth
He will not let your foot slip-
he who watches over you will not slumber
Indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

The commander looks down at his feet as some of his soldiers wipe away tears and sweat. At the end of the Psalm, the Morag men all tear their shirts in the traditional sign of Jewish mourning before they and their children are quietly escorted to the waiting buses.

Several male soldiers watch carefully over strollers as mothers busy themselves with older children.

KISSUFIM noon
Almost one thousand people from all over the country have somehow managed to overcome several army checkpoints on the road to get to Kissufim. They sing and wait and talk to the soldiers trying to convince them to stop their work.

ATZMONA
At the yeshiva, dozens of students and teachers pull soldiers into a circle and they dance, sing and weep together. Several of the observant soldiers are sobbing uncontrollably as they hug their peers. The Rosh Yeshiva (head of the Yeshiva) Rafi Perez hugs each student before they leave quietly to be transferred to their new yeshiva at Yad Binyamin.

NEVEI DEKALIM
Soldiers hand out bottles of water to yeshiva students dancing here.

GANEI TAL
Announcement that Knesset Member Tzvi Hendel will be the last one to leave this small community.

MORAG
Knesset member Benny Elon is here to witness the removal of some one hundred residents who have gathered in the synagogue. They're pulled out still wearing tallit and tefillin. No violence at all--just tears and pain on all sides.

One of the men who comes out tells reporters: "They've turned our Gan Eden (Garden of Eden) into Gehinnom (hell)."

Jerusalem 12:30 pm
PM Sharon and President Moshe Katzav call a joint news conference. Sharon says nothing new. "My heart is breaking too at these painful scenes," intones Sharon. "But it's important for the future of Israel."

Kerem ATZMONA 1 p.m.
People here have made no preparations at all for their departure. As the soldiers show up to evict them, families slowly emerge with backpacks and strollers.

GANEI TAL 1:30 p.m.
Quiet resistance as people leave, hugging the soldiers. Most of the community has agreed to be resettled in the community of Chafetz Chaim, but the houses aren't ready yet. They'll be spending the next few weeks scattered amongst cheap hotels in Ashkelon, Beersheva, Jerusalem and even Eilat.

NEVE DEKALIM 1:40 p.m.
The yeshiva headed by Rabbi Tal is about to be herded onto buses. For some reason, the IDF refuses to allow coverage--the only such incident so far.

YESHA Council member Shaul Goldstein says he's disgusted with the lack of preparation for the next day--he announces that the council has set up a Moving Center at the Shapira Center about 4 minutes away. Here he pledges to take care of the evacuees until they get settled.

Goldstein says the most moving moment for him today was dancing together with resident and soldiers in the synagogue earlier.

1:50 pm. Cabinet Minister Matan Vilnai arrives. He's an outspoken proponent of the Gaza retreat. He lasts about 4 minutes outside his vehicle before he's hit on the head with a raw egg. His security people hustle him into his car.

NETZER HAZANI : the community of 75 families scheduled for eviction tomorrow, announces that it has decided to go en masse to set up a tent city in front of the Kotel since the government has not figured out any accommodation solution for them. They were supposed to be housed in hotels at the Dead Sea and Eilat while alternative accommodations are arranged.

BADOLAH 2 p.m.
I see my friend Mike Cohen, a veteran IDF conflict negotiator who honed his skills during the standoff at the Church of the Nativity a few years back, working in the synagogue at Bedolah. He's escorting Rabbi Menahem Froman from Tekoa out of the building hugging a Torah scroll. The women's section of the synagogue is packed with girls and women sitting on the floor. They're eventually escorted out by women soldiers whose faces drip with sweat and tears.

The images I'm seeing today are gut-wrenching and heart-breaking. Many instances of soldiers crying as they carry out the orders to evict families and dismantle synagogues and yeshivot.

Most importantly, so far there has been no violence. People have not gone willingly, but they have been dragged out Martin Luther King style without lifting a finger against the forces sent to evict them. Everyone acknowledges that the task is painful for the evictors as well as the evictees.

It's 2:30 p.m., halfway through this terrible and historic day. Already, the communities of Peat Sadeh, Nissanit and Dugit are no more. Bedolah's 35 families have almost all left; Kerem Atzmona, Morag and Neve Dekalim won't last past tomorrow. Remaining communities are to be dealt with in the coming days.

KEREM ATZMONA 3: 30 p.m.
The most disgusting spectacle of the day. One large family with 7 or 8 kids comes out of their house with their hands up wearing orange Jewish stars on their chests. Each of the kids is crying--but it seems like a theatrical spectacle. Naturally, the media pounces on the photo op. I can almost guarantee that it's this picture that will appear on front pages all over the world tomorrow.

NEVE DEKALIM 3:40 p.m.
Soldiers break into a house where the family has refused to come out willingly. After calling out to them by name to open up and warning them they're about to break in, the soldiers push down the door and find the parents and four kids sitting on the living room floor. After a few moments, they all emerge sobbing.

Other families in Neve Dekalim are loaded onto buses. It takes eight soldiers to drag each man to the bus. Six women soldiers to pull each teenager from their home.

Behind a container, one woman soldier completely breaks down. She slides to the ground sobbing and refuses to be comforted by a fellow soldier.

All evening we'd been waiting for details about the arrival in Jerusalem of the entire community of Netzer Hazani. Phone calls to people in the community kept us up to date about their projected arrival time at the Western Wall where they've chosen to spend the first night after eviction.

At 12:30 a.m. I drive to the Kotel thinking I'll be one of a few people there to greet the buses...I end up in a massive traffic jam as all the roads into the Old City are packed with cars and buses. Finally at around 12:50a.m. the first exhausted Netzer Hazani people emerge off the grimy buses.

They're greeted by lines of singing men--almost everyone is either in tears or has red-rimmed eyes from a day of tears.

A Torah scroll from Netzer Hazani is lovingly carried to the Kotel plaza by a dozen young men and teenagers with tears running down their faces.

It's 2 a.m. and no one is moving from the Kotel--the women's section is filled with a huge circle of orange-clad women and girls who hold on to each other for support. Mournful songs rise up from the men's section as the shofar is sounded. Several thousand people cling to each other for moral and physical support.

Seeking comfort at the Kotel

People are plainly shell-shocked and traumatized by the events of the past few days. The realization is sinking in that months of intense campaigning, dedication and commitment have failed to achieve the desired result of holding on to Gush Katif and that twenty two thriving, productive communities have simply vanished overnight.

How appropriate that this coming Shabbat is Shabbat Nachamu--the Shabbat of comfort that follows the mourning of Tisha B'Av. But it will take more than one Shabbat to comfort many Israelis in the aftermath of this week's upheaval.

And Now....

August 18, 2005
Instead of spending another day watching the destruction of even more thriving Jewish communities, I decided to visit some of the evictees who have been unceremoniously dumped in my own city.

Rachel Saperstein is lying on a bed in a cramped hotel room in Jerusalem. It's a far cry from the beautiful and immaculate home in Neve Dekalim she was thrown out from yesterday. As her husband Moshe goes out for a smoke (to escape all the female company, no doubt) the words tumble out of Rachel.

"I didn't do enough," she sighs. The constant media interviews and explaining the importance of Gush Katif ultimately didn't succeed in preventing the expulsions, she says. With great emotion, Rachel recounts the events of the past few days leading up to the eviction.

With Moshe out of the room, she tells us how he finally broke down as he came to the realization that he had to pack up his beloved CD collection.

The Sapersteins and their neighbors, the entire community of Neve Dekalim in fact, is now being housed in two and three star hotels scattered all over the city. At three hotels near the central bus station shell-shocked evacuees sit in hotel lobbies, recounting their stories to anyone willing to listen. Lists of activities for children and teenagers and prayer times are posted on the walls, as those who have lost their homes ponder their next move.

The government is footing the bill for 10 days of hotel stays for the displaced Gush Katif residents, and efforts are underway to dole out the first portion of the compensation checks so that people will have money to rent apartments--but how will they know where to rent if they don't where or if they'll be working?

There's tremendous bitterness among the Gush Katif evictees over the way they are being treated. Rachel promises to explain in a letter she's writing tomorrow.

Finally, today, the first day after losing her home, Rachel has had time to go to the doctor to find out why her foot is swollen. A hairline fracture is responsible for her discomfort--she just didn't have time to deal with it before the evictions. Rachel explains that since they arrived last night, several Neve Dekalim people have been treated for all manner of ailments--clearly stress-related, according to doctors.

Rachel relates how she prepared a complete chicken lunch that was eaten just half an hour before they were forced to leave their home. It was the Saperstein way of taking their leave with dignity in their own time.

A few well-meaning visitors tried making small talk with Rachel--one of them made a comment about how everyone in her building sympathized with the plight of the Gush Katif residents. "All I could think of," says Rachel, "is that she has a building and I don't have a home..."

As I leave the hotel and wait at the bus stop, a young man walks by alone with a megaphone. He's walking up and down the street at 11 p.m. telling the world: "I'm a resident of Neve Dekalim. I was thrown out of my home today in the name of democracy."

November 2005

It rained heavily this week all over Israel. Not particularly notable for late November, unless you happen to be one of the 8,500 people who were evicted from their homes last August as part of the Gaza withdrawal plan.

For many of them, the heavy rains prove to be one more trial to endure in the turmoil that their lives have become since these Israelis lost any semblance of normalcy more than three months ago.

At Ir HaEmunah (City of Faith), the tent city established by former residents of Atzmona in the wake of their eviction, parents desperately attempt to swoosh 2-3 inches of water away from their meager belongings in their makeshift homes.

In between sweeps, Moshe, 35, a father of six, explains that the rain seeped in during the early morning hours while everyone was still asleep on their iron cots. Anything left on the floor, including cardboard boxes of clothing and plywood bookshelves, is sopping wet and unlikely to dry out anytime soon. Someone had the foresight to build the communal toilets and showers on wooden planks, but kids who woke up to the sound of rain had to slosh through the water with damp towels to start their day.

"Welcome to the ma'abarot [early post-independence-period temporary dwellings for Jewish refugees from Arab countries] of 2005," exclaims a middle-aged woman as she welcomes visitors to the mud-soaked entrance to Ir HaEmunah, just outside the southern town of Netivot.

"If you don't come to see it, you can't believe it," adds Michal, a former Atzmona schoolteacher. Michal explains that Atzmona residents had the opportunity to move to scattered apartments offered by the Disengagement Authority after the evictions. "But we know that ultimately we want to build a new community in the Negev together, and once we would be scattered, it would be almost impossible to sustain that goal." So, the intrepid pioneers, who endured thousands of Kassam rocket and mortar attacks during their time in the far south of Gush Katif, close to the terrorist nest of Rafiah, decided to take advantage of an offer of an empty industrial warehouse to set up their tent homes inside.

More than 55 families are here, trying to negotiate a solution to their plight. The renowned Atzmona pre-army mechina program has relocated to the community of Yated, but the remaining residents try to maintain a positive attitude and routine amidst the difficult physical conditions. Just last week, a number of rundown caravans (mobile homes) were brought into the area, which are an improvement over the industrial tents shored up by plywood that make up the homes inside. One small, half-assembled playground sits starkly in the mud outside the caravans. Inside the cold, cavernous warehouse space, kids wander around, pushing at the water with their shoes.

Michal describes how they built the school rooms on the second floor of the structure in a three-week period. But the school is not recognized by the state, so supplies are bought and salaries paid by the community itself. "We have lots of donations," Michal smiles.

Michal and her friends are wearing the lavender fleece jackets provided by Project Warm-Up, an initiative operated and funded largely by Jerusalem-based, English-speaking immigrants to provide warm winter coats for every evictee.

Until recently, none of the families had their own cooking facilities and meals were eaten communally, provided by a kibbutz catering service. Someone donated one electric hotplate burner for each family, "...and you can't imagine how good our first omelet tasted!" exclaimed Michal.

The inability to prepare meals for one's family is one of the most-often cited complaints of the evictees scattered in hotels all over the country. Parents don't go out to work -- their previous workplaces vanished overnight -- they don't shop and they don't cook. The kids of the hotel families don't help out -- there's nothing for them to help with. So, essentially, all traditional family functions have been disrupted.

Michal says that the Ir HaEmunah people have now been told they will have to remain there for another 2-3 months until their new, temporary homes in Lachish, south of Hebron, will be ready.

Meantime, the source of their strength, their synagogue, has been recreated by joining together two mobile homes. Residents managed to salvage their beautiful, light, wood synagogue seating and the Ark, together with its blue velvet covering. "I cried when we davened there on the first Shabbat after we were evicted," says Michal. "But week by week, it's gotten better. We're resolved to rebuild ourselves," she adds.

A forty minute drive from Netivot, past the turn-off to the Kissufim entryway to Gush Katif, brings us to the tiny community of Yavul, just a stone's throw from the border with Egypt. A drone hovers overhead monitoring the border crossings. Here at Yavul, dozens of prefab buildings sit in the muddy, sandy soil in varying stages of completion. Pre-teen kids ride around on bikes and play in the sand. Inside the industrial-size tent that serves as a meeting place, dining hall and shelter from the rain, Drora Visner and Tzurit Yarchi describe their lives here. Yavul is now home to most of the evictees from Netzarim, which was one of the most dangerous places to live in Gush Katif. For years before the eviction, the IDF insisted that only bulletproof vehicles could travel in and out.

Today, the determined people of Netzarim are awaiting their permanent solution. Eighteen Netzarim families are in Ariel, almost three hours’ drive away. "We're looking forward to doing in the Negev what we accomplished in Gush Katif," Tzurit emphasizes. She explains that they hope to bring their experience and knowledge and unique agricultural methods to a new community. But most of all, " We want to preserve the spirit of Netzarim," she says.

Drora nods in agreement, as she holds the hand of one of her 11 children, ages 2-23. Drora is a double-evictee. Her family was kicked out of Yamit when she was a child and re-established itself in Gush Katif. Her sister, Tiferet Trattner, was murdered by terrorists in Gush Katif in 2004.

Tzurit tells her visitors that the mourning over the Gaza withdrawal should be national. On the other hand, she adds: "While the state did a great crime here, we still have faith in the state. We just have to work to change the leaders."

Bryna Hilberg, one of the founders of the Gush Katif community of Netzer Hazani, now living in the guest house of Kibbutz Ein Tsurim, concurs. "The politicians made a mistake, but I still love my country," she emphasizes. Hilberg's family has paid dearly for their commitment. Their son Yochanan was killed in action while serving as an Israel Navy frogman. He was buried in the cemetery of Gush Katif. The Hilbergs were forced to exhume his body and re-bury him when the Jews were forced out of Gush Katif. "I felt as if the state killed him again," she grimaces as she holds up a book dedicated to her son with his face adorning the cover. "It was the nightmare of my life," she recounts. Yochanan was reburied in Nitzan, close to the sea that he loved.

Bryna's husband was an expert in cultivating crops in the sand. Today, he's lucky to have a part-time job in the local grocery store.

Fellow Netzer Hazani evictee, Anita Tucker tells visitors that while the loss of her physical community is painful, she and her neighbors feel that "it's the values, the spirit, the sense of community that couldn't be destroyed by the IDF bulldozers." Presently, half of the 60 families from Netzer Hazani are living in dormitories at the Hispin Yeshiva in the Golan, with the remainder at Ein Tsurim, not far from Ashkelon.

In a session of the Ministerial Disengagement Committee on November 23, 2005, Prime Minister Ariel Sharon said: "There is no doubt that building communities in the south is very important." Prime Minister's Office (PMO) Director General Ilan Cohen added, "The vast majority of the residents will maintain their communal way of life."

Perhaps the Committee should make another visit to Nitzan, where remnants of several Gush Katif communities will be spending the next two years. The caravillas spread out in their neat rows over the former watermelon fields are now home to 320 families -- eventually, when they're completed, some 4-5 months after the evictions, 450 families will live here while they wait for permanent housing and employment solutions. It's hard to maintain a "communal way of life" when there's no store and massive unemployment, and little for the restless and traumatized teenagers to do.

Here too, on this rainy day, residents are outside trying to deal with massive puddles and the mud that surrounds their homes. Containers sit outside some homes, in violation of the Disengagement Authority's directive. Most families couldn't squeeze the belongings from their former homes into the 90 sq. meter space they now inhabit. For the privilege of living in this neighborhood, the former Gush Katif residents pay $450 per month rent that's deducted directly from their compensation package.

At Chafetz Chayim, another religious kibbutz that has taken in Gush Katif evictees, Avraham Berrebi, formerly of Gadid, puts a brave face on his family's situation. Avraham and his wife Colette and six children emigrated from France decades ago. "We fell in love with Gush Katif immediately," he recalls.

Since the August evictions, the Berrebis have been shunted between Neve Ilan, Tiberias and Chafetz Chayim. "We've become experts in moving," he chuckles. The only problem is that the Berrebis have no idea where their next move might take them when they have to leave Chafetz Chayim at the end of November.

Together with another 16 families from Gadid, they agreed to resettle in Massuot Yitzhak, not far from Ein Tsurim and Ashkelon. The Disengagement Authority has just informed them that they will only make the necessary arrangements for a minimum of 20 families.

Exasperated, Berrebi explains that the other Gadid families got so fed up with waiting that they found other solutions.

If solutions aren't found quickly, there's a risk that the Zionist commitment, energy and enterprise of the pioneers from Gush Katif will disappear with the rain.

When Jewish and Muslim Holy Days Clash

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Mon, 12 Aug 2019 07:15:00 +0000

Despite hostile attention from Arabs along Sultan Suleiman Street, this year's erev Tisha B’Av march around the walls of the Old City by several thousand Jews was largely ignored by both Israeli and world media. But in the era of social media, plenty of people around the world heard about it, and watched the annual event unfold.

In a bizarre confluence of religious fervor, Tisha B'Av, the Jewish commemoration of the destruction of the Temple and a string of national disasters that befell the Jewish people on this date throughout history, fell out this year on the eve of the Moslem pilgrimage holiday, Eid al-Adha.

That meant it was impossible for the security forces to close off the main commercial street of eastern Jerusalem that runs in front of Damascus and Herod's Gates as they have done every other year of the Tisha B'Av walk around the walls. The Moslem population was out buying supplies for the coming three-day festivities.

Photo: Judy Lash Balint

While the majority of Arabs in the street went about their business, hundreds of hostile young Arab men lined the fence jeering, chanting "Allahu Akbar" and tossing fire crackers at the Jews walking by. After 52 years of reunification of Jerusalem they still haven't grasped that the Jews are here to stay.

Photo: Gershon Ellinson

The traditional walk around the walls of the city attracts throngs of Israelis who gather across from the US Consulate on Agron Street half an hour after Shabbat. As the baal koreh starts to read the mournful Eicha (Lamentations) over the microphone, a few hundred cluster on the grass with flashlights, straining to hear every word. Hundreds more who have heard Eicha in their own synagogues arrive as the reading ends.

As the marchers move off following an organized group of stewards, organizer Nadia Matar reminds the crowd that this is not a social event. In fact, no reminder is necessary, as the restrained mass of Jews soberly sets out to encircle the gates of the Holy City.

Photo: Judy Lash Balint

Scattered amongst the marchers are a number of non-observant Jews. Women wearing pants and sleeveless tops walk side by side with others whose hair is carefully covered with scarf or hat. Many parents are there with small children and there are large numbers of older people too.

Walking up the hill to Tzahal Square we turn to look back. People as far back as we can see—accompanied by huge Israeli flags, quietly taking part in an ancient Jerusalem tradition.

Passing New Gate, traffic traveling in the opposite direction on Route #1 is held up as we take over the streets and pour down the road toward Damascus Gate.

The walk is a hands-on outdoor classroom for many parents. All along the way, fathers are explaining the significant sites to sons and daughters. "Saba (grandpa) fought here," one tall, bearded man tells his 10 year old son as we round the corner towards Lion's Gate, where Israeli paratroopers entered to liberate the Temple Mount in the 1967 Six Day War.

"Look over there," says a young mother to her wide-eyed daughter. "You can see the stairs where the Jews used to go up to the Temple," she says as we walk up the hill in front of the southern wall.

As we walk along the eastern wall we look out at the vast expanse of the Mount of Olives Jewish cemetery, the largest and oldest in the world. Sticking out like a sore thumb is the Ras el Amud mosque built on the southeastern corner of the cemetery. We come to a halt in front of Lions Gate.

The crowd sits down on the stone pavement to listen in silence to the words of a number of public figures including MKs Nir Barkat and Zev Elkin. Most impressive, however, are the direct words of the two indefatigable women responsible for organizing the annual walk—Nadia Matar and Yehudit Katsover.

A few of us wander over to gaze at the Kidron Valley below, with Absalom’s Tomb and the monument to the prophet Zechariah. Across the valley we can see the Ma'ale Hazeitim apartment complex that acts as a buffer between Abu Dis and the Temple Mount.

Rounding the corner, we look up at the imposing Southern Wall of the Temple and the recently exposed archeological digs of the City of David. Groups of walkers are exploring the new discoveries.

Photo: Judy Lash Balint

Huldah’s Gate looms above us as we make the ascent towards Dung Gate and the entrance to the Western Wall.

Photo: Judy Lash Balint

In the Western Wall Plaza, thousands of the tired, hot and hungry are sprawled on the ground, ready to spend the night mourning the destruction.

At the back of the plaza, a thirty-something policewoman is downing a bottle of water. Apologetically, she announces to her friend that she’s fasting, and is only taking water in order to be able to work.

All over Jerusalem, various institutions host discussions, films and presentations on the theme of baseless hatred and closing the gap between the multiple factions that make up Israeli society—but at the end of the day, the overwhelming sense in this capital of the relatively new Jewish state, is that the Jews take seriously the observance of a day marking events that happened centuries ago but that continue to affect our existence here today.

Yom Kippur: Jerusalem Style

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Thu, 20 Sep 2018 03:00:00 +0000

I know most Jews call Yom Kippur by other names, but here in Jerusalem, it's the Day of No Traffic Lights. There are no traffic lights because there's no traffic in Jerusalem on Yom Kippur to regulate. The city just turns the lights off for 25 hours.

Imagine—an entire country without any motor vehicle traffic apart from emergency vehicles and security patrols. The quiet is absolutely stunning. Starting from sundown on erev Yom Kippur, 25 hours of blissful peace and quiet. Think of the negative carbon footprint impact!

In the hours before Yom Kippur, Israeli air space closes: not a single commercial airplane is in Israeli air space for more than 25 hours. [Graphic: Avi Mayer]

In the Tel Aviv area, pollution over the holiday was measured at 1 to 8 parts per million, compared to 84 parts per million on the morning before Yom Kippur. Overall, pollution measurements were down 90 percent over a regular day.

No traffic; all radio and TV stations are silent; no phones ringing; no home appliances whirring; no airplanes overhead—you can actually hear the birds and the wind rustling through the trees.

Pedestrians share the road with bicycles ridden by hundreds of secular Israelis who savor the day as a safe opportunity to try out their biking skills with no annoying traffic lights or crazy Israeli drivers. But the overwhelming sense is of a people taking a complete day to evaluate and perhaps change their lives.

This year, many struggled to deal with grief, anger and sadness over the terrorist murder of Ari Fuld, whose funeral was held one day before the Day of Atonement.

Walking to Kol Nidre, the streets are thronged with people clad in white, to signify purity and a withdrawal for one day from the vanities of our usual fancy clothing.

Every synagogue is packed to overflowing, and several hundred community centers around the country also offer Yom Kippur services with emphasis on discussion and openness for those who might never before stepped foot in a synagogue.

After the Kol Nidre prayers are over, it's as if the entire city spills out onto the streets. Strolling along in the middle of streets usually clogged with cars is the main pastime as people saunter off home, greeting friends along the way.

In the tony Talbieh neighborhood of Jerusalem, you might even have spotted Prime Minister Netanyahu and his family strolling home with their security entourage. The PM usually attends Kol Nidre services at a synagogue a short walk from his official residence. In case anyone is interested, the official government press announcement was careful to note :

The Prime Minister wore a prayer shawl and non-leather shoes, according to custom.

This year, it was a relatively comfortable 85 degrees in Jerusalem. Last year, I spent the closing Neilah service of Yom Kippur at a shul just down the street as it was just too hot to trek back to my regular shul after the break.

As I took a seat at the very back of that neighborhood shul, an elderly woman was wheeled in by her son who parked her wheelchair just in front of me. Her fingers were severely misshapen and she wore thick glasses. She carefully unfolded a copy of the Amidah part of the Neilah-(closing) service that had been blown up on large sheets of paper. Next, she carefully extracted a magnifying glass from a little box and oblivious to the Chazan, proceeded to painstakingly slide the magnifying glass over every word of the prayers. She completed her reading just as the congregation came to the closing verses and she joined in the fervent singing of 'Next year in a Rebuilt Jerusalem.' She even managed to clap as the men danced in a lively circle to express joy at having been given another opportunity to make amends before God.

After the piercing tones of the shofar marked the conclusion of another Day of No Traffic Lights and the congregation clamored out of the doors to get home for refreshment, half a dozen secular people from the neighborhood were arriving, hoping to hear the shofar. This particular shul finished a few minutes before the appointed time for the end of the holiday, so the neighbors were disappointed to have missed it, but another group was still praying in another part of the building, and the outsiders quickly made their way down the stairs to take in the tradition.

Before I even made it home, a few cars were already on the streets and the Day of No Traffic Lights was no more.

Yom Kippur is in the Air

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Tue, 18 Sep 2018 05:50:00 +0000

Selichot from renowned Paytan, Rabbi Haim Luk

Ben Gurion Airport closes at 1 p.m today and won't reopen until three hours after the end of Yom Kippur tomorrow night. Public transportation all over Israel grinds to a halt by 2:30 p.m. Men of all ages can be seen on the streets of Jerusalem with towels thrown over their shoulders as they head to and from the mikve.

In the streets later in the day, men hurry along with towels to the nearest mikveh (ritual bath). Many have already started building their sukkot (booths) in readiness for Sukkot, the one-week festival that starts the week after Yom Kippur. Sukkot structures of all kinds have sprung up on balconies, street corners and in front of cafes. The final decorations and the schach covering will be added right after the conclusion of Yom Kippur.

Over the past few days, the streets in and around the Old City, Nachlaot, the Bukharan Quarter and Meah Shearim have been completely packed with people hurrying to and from the pre-Yom Kippur selichot prayers. Curious secular Israelis by the hundreds take part in pre-dawn Selichot tours, where they look in on dozens of congregations where the faithful are immersed in penitential prayers chanted to ancient melodies.

Eli Luzon at a selichot concert

A selichot concert last night put on by the Jerusalem Municipality at Kikar Safra was standing room only as thousands took part.

The busiest kiosks on the streets are those selling shoes made from fabric or plastic–to comply with the prohibition against wearing leather on Yom Kippur.

In several Israeli towns, police cars pull over random motorists, stroll up to the car window and extend a hand filled with apples and honey to the stunned drivers sending them on their way with a "Shana tova," greeting.

Strains of chazanut waft out of many windows, as many radio and TV stations broadcast operatic renditions of the well-known Yom Kippur prayers in a variety of styles. Almost every radio and TV channel also features a physician prescribing pre-fast measures to stave off headaches and ensure an easy fast, and advice on the best type of food with which to break the fast.

Many of the rabbis providing commentary on Yom Kippur in the Israeli media emphasize the festive nature of the day–not only the obvious solemnity. Be happy, we’re told, that God grants us this grand opportunity to get a new lease on life–the possibility of teshuva (return) shows that Judaism is optimistic and forward-looking and allows for the reformulation of both our interpersonal relationships and our relationship with God. Singing and dancing are the de rigeur ways in which many congregations here, especially those at yeshivot, end the Yom Kippur day expressing joy at the soul having been uplifted.

While polls indicate that around 60 percent of Israeli Jews between 18-35 will fast, non-observant Israelis are also getting ready for Yom Kippur.

For the past 12 years, the a group of progressive orthodox rabbis under the Tzohar banner have been hosting open Yom Kippur tefillot for communities all around Israel. Over 50,000 people attended last year and more are expected this year.

Tzohar has out together a special Machzor and detailed handout explaining the rituals, the meaning of the prayers that take place during the reverent day to ensure it is a meaningful and encompassing experience for all.

The daily Yisrael Hayom newspaper included the handout in their holiday edition. Radio ads inviting people to community centers for Yom Kippur tefillot note that " no one group owns Yom Kippur--it belongs to all of us."

There's no traffic apart from emergency vehicles on the streets of Israel on Yom Kippur, so it’s become a traditional time for mass outings on bikes–new and old. Kids and adults enjoy the one-time freedom of movement for two-wheeled transportation.

There’s also the obligatory rehash of stories from the 1973 Yom Kippur War in the press. Every year, commentators review the intelligence failures and questionable political decisions that brought Israel to the brink.

As the siren sounds marking the start of the Day of Reckoning and news reports are quieted for at least 25 hours, you may be sure that our prayers will include a plea for a better year than the one before. Beyond that, who knows?

Passover in Israel: Here It Comes

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Mon, 26 Mar 2018 16:39:00 +0000

What's it like to be in Israel where, according to a 2017 Jewish People Policy Institute survey, 97% of Israeli Jews host or participate in a Passover Seder?

If you've never heard an Arab calling out "alter zachen" ('old things') in Yiddish, then you've never experienced pre-Passover preparations in Jerusalem.

It's part of the clean-up mania that grips the city in the run-up to the Pesach holiday.

I remember the days when an old, wizened guy would traipse around the neighborhood looking to pick up anyone's old shmattes - today, they drive around in a pick-up truck before Pesach and Rosh Hashanah, looking for anything metallic.

Meantime, the city Sanitation Department is doing its bit to clean for Pesach. They're doubling garbage collection shifts and sweeping and rinsing major portions of the capital. Containers for burning chametz are set up in all the Jewish neighborhoods, with a plea to "Please note that burning of chametz is permitted only in chametz burning containers. Follow the fire safety instructions." Right: see below for how my neighbors adhere to those instructions.

See the challah burn! Photo: Judy Lash Balint

Once that's done Jerusalemites will be able to ease into the Passover holiday in a spruced-up, cleaned up city, ready to receive whomever else in the world might feel like dropping in for a visit.

Need to stock up on household goods? Pre-Pesach is the time to do it, as stores compete to offer rock-bottom prices on dishes and cutlery. The 85 NIS price ($25) for a perfectly nice set of china dishes for 6, kind of makes up for gas prices, which stand at a high of almost $8 per gallon.

Bank Hapoalim, which like every bank in Israel charges a fee for every single transaction, redeems itself slightly on Passover by underwriting free entrance to 45 sites, museums and attractions throughout the country during chol hamoed.

Meantime, on Pesach the extent of the dire poverty of hundreds of thousands of Israelis is exposed. Latest figures indicate that roughly 20.5% of Israeli families live below the poverty line. Moreover, 24.7% of Israel's residents and 35.9% of its children live in impoverished families.

Families and the elderly form almost endless lines in every city around the food banks and soup kitchens that do their best to provide the basics necessary to celebrate the holiday.

In every ultra-orthodox neighborhood during the week before Pesach, men and boys block the narrow streets with hand trucks piled high with sacks of carrots, potatoes, oranges and cartons of eggs--all courtesy of the Kimcha D'Pischa funds that funnel donations from abroad to the Haredi communities, specifically for Pesach food.

Meanwhile, for those who have read this far, here's the Many Ways You Know

Pesach is Coming To Israel list

2. Street scenes in Israel change every day before Passover according to what is halachically necessary: In the days before the holiday, yeshiva students wielding blowtorches preside over huge vats of boiling water stationed every few blocks on the street and in the courtyard of every mikveh. The lines to dunk cutlery, kiddush cups and the like start to grow every day, and, at the last minute, blow torches are at the ready to cleanse every last gram of chametz from oven racks and stove tops lugged through the streets.

Photo: Judy Lash Balint

3. No alarm clock needed here--the clanging garbage trucks do the trick as they roll through the neighborhood every morning during the two weeks before Pesach to accommodate all the refuse from the furious cleaning going on in every household. Two days before the Seder there's the annual pick-up of over-sized items and appliances. Dozens of antiquated computer monitors and old toaster ovens stand forlornly next to the garbage bins on their way to the dump.

5. Most flower shops stay open all night for the two days before Pesach, working feverishly to complete the orders that will grace the nation's Seder tables.

6. Meah Shearim and Geula merchants generally run out of heavy plastic early in the week before Pesach. In a panic, I make an early morning run to the Machane Yehuda market to successfully snap up a few meters of the handy counter-covering material.

8. Mailboxes are full of Pesach appeals from the myriad of organizations helping the poor celebrate Pesach. Newspapers are replete with articles about selfless Israelis who volunteer by the hundreds in the weeks before the holiday to collect, package and distribute Pesach supplies to the needy.

9. Since most of the country is on vacation for the entire week of Pesach, all kinds of entertainment and trips are on offer. The list of activities is a bit overwhelming, and FOMO definitely prevails!

10. Pesach with its theme of freedom and exodus always evokes news stories about recent olim. This year, general immigration numbers are up five percent over 2016 numbers. Some 28,400 new immigrants arrived, the majority from Russia and Ukraine. Only 2,900 US Jews arrived in 2017, and French aliya dropped by 28% from 2016, despite the increase in anti-semitic incidents there.

11. This just in: According to Israel's Brandman Research Institute study, 43 million people hours will be spent nationwide in Israel's cleaning preparations for Passover this year. How does that break down? Of those cleaning hours, 29 million are done by women and 11 million by men. Paid cleaners make up the remaining 3 million hours at a cost of NIS 64 million ($15.6 million).

Photo: Judy Lash Balint

12. Israel's chief rabbis sell the nation's chametz to one Hussein Jabar, a Moslem Arab resident of Abu Ghosh. Estimated worth: $150 billion, secured by a down payment of NIS 20,000. Jabar took over the task more than 15 years ago, after the previous buyer, also from Abu Ghosh, was fired when it was discovered his maternal grandmother was Jewish.

13. Sign of the times? A few years ago, former Sephardi Chief Rabbi Mordechai Eliyahu issued a ruling that Viagra may be taken on Pesach provided the pill is encased in a special empty capsule so that the drug itself is not in direct contact with the body.

14. At the Kotel workers perform the twice-yearly ritual (pre-Pesach and pre-Rosh Hashanah) of removing thousands of personal notes from the crevices of the Kotel to bury them on the Mt of Olives.

17. The Passover theme of freedom and exodus in Israel even extends to criminals. Israel Radio announced that 700 prisoners will get a furlough to spend the holiday with family.

Photo:Judy Lash Balint

19. For some reason, it's become expected practice for companies to give their workers gifts on Passover (and Rosh Hashanah...) The Tovanot Market research firm found that some 1.5 million workers in Israel receive gifts from their employers at this time of year. Most generous is the Dead Sea Works whose workers get a check for NIS 1780 (about $495) + an iPad.

The Many Ways You Know Passover is Coming to Israel

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Thu, 30 Mar 2017 19:27:00 +0000

If you've never heard an Arab calling out "alter zachen" ('old things') in Yiddish, then you've never experienced pre-Passover preparations in Jerusalem.

It's part of the clean-up mania that grips the city in the run-up to the Pesach holiday.

Meantime, our municipality informs us:

"The Sanitation Department will heighten its activities, double its shifts and add more garbage collection vehicles.

Sanitation Department crews are working to clear out waste and garbage dumps discarded by residents in the city neighborhoods as part of the Passover cleaning operation.

The department will carry out a thorough cleaning, sweeping and rinsing of the Mahane Yehuda Market, Malchei Yisrael Street, Bukharan Market, Mea Shearim Market, the Old City`s Markets, the city center and commercial centers, using modern cleanup vehicles adapted for this purpose.

Containers for burning chametz in the city's neighborhoods will be set up. Starting from Wednesday, 29.3.17 until Thursday, 10 Nissan 5717. Please note that burning of chametz is permitted only in chametz burning containers. Follow the fire safety instructions. "

See the challah burn! Photo: Judy Lash Balint

Once that's done Jerusalemites will be able to ease into the Passover holiday in a spruced-up, cleaned up city, ready to receive whomever else in the world might feel like dropping in for a visit.

Need to stock up on household goods? Pre-Pesach is the time to do it, as stores compete to offer rock-bottom prices on dishes and cutlery. The 75 NIS price ($20) for a perfectly nice set of china dishes for 6, kind of makes up for gas prices, which stand at a high of almost $8 per gallon.

The array of activities in Jerusalem during Passover is truly astounding. Click here for the most comprehensive listing.

On the religious front, Haaretz revealed in a poll that 68 percent of the population answers 'no' when asked if they are planning on eating chametz during Pesach and 75 percent of Israelis will take part in a seder.

Families and the elderly form almost endless lines in every city around the food banks and soup kitchens that do their best to provide the basics necessary to celebrate the holiday.

Pesach food.

Meanwhile, for those who have read this far, here's the Many Ways You Know

Pesach is Coming To Israel list

2. Street scenes in Israel change every day before Passover according to what is halachically necessary: In the days before the holiday, yeshiva students wielding blowtorches preside over huge vats of boiling water stationed every few blocks on the street and in the courtyard of every mikveh. The lines to dunk cutlery, kiddush cups and the like start to grow every day, and, at the last minute, blow torches are at the ready to cleanse every last gram of chametz from oven racks and stove tops lugged through the streets.

Photo: Judy Lash Balint

3. No alarm clock needed here--the clanging garbage trucks do the trick as they roll through the neighborhood every morning during the two weeks before Pesach to accommodate all the refuse from the furious cleaning going on in every household. Two days before the Seder there's the annual pick-up of over-sized items and appliances. Dozens of antiquated computer monitors and old toaster ovens stand forlornly next to the garbage bins on their way to the dump.

5. Most flower shops stay open all night for the two days before Pesach, working feverishly to complete the orders that will grace the nation's Seder tables.

9. The biggest food challenge to those of us ashkenazi, non-kitniyot (legume) eaters is finding cookies, margarine etc. made without kitniyot, but an increasing number of ashkenazi rabbis are coming out with lenient rulings regarding legumes.

10. Since most of the country is on vacation for the entire week of Pesach, all kinds of entertainment and trips are on offer. Ads appear for everything from the annual Boombamela beach festival, kid's activities at the Bloomfield Science Museum, concerts in Hebron, explorations at the City of David, solidarity excursions to Sderot and music festivals at the Dead Sea.

11. Pesach with its theme of freedom and exodus always evokes news stories about recent olim. But this year, general immigration numbers are down 12 percent over 2015, despite the rising anti-Semitism in Europe. Jewish Agency figures show that just over 5,000 French Jews immigrated to Israel in 2016 – down about one-third from 2015.

12. This just in: According to Israel's Brandman Research Institute study, 43 million people hours will be spent nationwide in Israel's cleaning preparations for Passover this year. How does that break down? Of those cleaning hours, 29 million are done by women and 11 million by men. Paid cleaners make up the remaining 3 million hours at a cost of NIS 64 million ($15.6 million).

Photo: Judy Lash Balint

14. Sign of the times? A few years ago, former Sephardi Chief Rabbi Mordechai Eliyahu issued a ruling that Viagra may be taken on Pesach provided the pill is encased in a special empty capsule so that the drug itself is not in direct contact with the body.

15. At the Kotel last week, I watched as workers performed the twice-yearly ritual (pre-Pesach and pre-Rosh Hashanah) of removing thousands of personal notes from the crevices of the Kotel to bury them on the Mt of Olives.

16. Guess who's Buying matza? According to Iyad Sharbaji, the manager of Gadaban Supermarket at the entrance to the Galilee Arab town of Umm al Fahm, his matza is consumed entirely by local Arabs. Sharbaji told Haaretz that he generally stocks up on matza for Passover and has to replenish stock before the end of the holiday due to keen demand by locals.

17. It turns out the avid consumption of matza is not a new trend in Arab towns and villages, whose inhabitants view the traditional Jewish food as nothing more or less than a welcome and refreshing change in the menu. "It's not a religious issue, and certainly not a political one," Sharbaji explains.

18. The Passover theme of freedom and exodus in Israel even extends to criminals. Israel Radio announced that 700 prisoners will get a furlough to spend the holiday with family.

19. According to the Ministry of Agriculture, Israel’s fishmongers will sell 1,100 tons of carp, 80 tons St. Peters fish and 300 tons of mullet this Passover season to satisfy the tastes of gefilte, as well as Moroccan-style-chraime, fish eaters.

Photo:Judy Lash Balint

20. For some reason, it's become expected practice for companies to give their workers gifts on Passover (and Rosh Hashanah...) The Tovanot Market research firm found that some 1.5 million workers in Israel receive gifts from their employers at this time of year. Most generous is the Dead Sea Works whose workers get a check for NIS 1780 (about $495) + an iPad.

Making Hanukkah Candles in Israel's War Zone

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Fri, 23 Dec 2016 13:56:00 +0000

A recent visit to Sderot turned up this story:

SDEROT - The Menorah Candle Company, manufacturer and exporter of millions of Hanukkah candles worldwide, is one of the oldest businesses in the industrial zone of Sderot, the Negev city better known as a frequent target for Hamas rockets than for its commerce.
Menorah produces the small bright-blue box filled with 44 multicolored candles and printed with iconic images designed by Boris Schatz of the early 20th century Bezalel art movement. This simple box of candles has been a trusted Hanukkah holiday component for Jews around the world for decades.

A display of Menorah Candle Company Hanukkah candles. Credit: Courtesy Menorah Candle Company.

Today, the factory is run by an idealistic CEO, Ilan Ben Moshe, who considers the operation a business and a national mission. The factory was moved to Sderot from Tel Aviv in 1988 by its previous owner, a Holocaust survivor, who bought the company from its founders. The original business started in 1939 as the first candle manufacturer in Palestine. Menorah now employs 40 workers, all residents of Sderot and the surrounding area.
“We’ve gone through two wars here in the past four years,” noted Ben Moshe, referring to Israel’s eight-day Operation Pillar of Defense in November 2012 and 2014’s Operation Protective Edge in the Gaza Strip. “Sderot is less than a mile from Gaza and has been under fire for 14 years, but people here are very brave,” he added.
On a recent afternoon, Ben Moshe invited a visitor into the operation and the large protected area where workers take shelter when Israel’s Red Alert siren gives a 15-second warning of an imminent rocket attack.
In the 2012 war, Menorah was forced to close for 10 days when the area came under frequent bombardment, and anxiety among workers was a constant companion.
In June 2014, a direct rocket hit on a nearby paint factory was one of the attacks that brought Israel into the monthlong Gaza War. The factory was completely destroyed in the attack, and four workers were injured.
When that happened, Ben Moshe, who makes the 90-minute commute from Jerusalem every day, said he considered moving his factory to the Jerusalem area, but, ultimately decided to “stay here forever. I consider it our mission to be here.”
“Candles have soul,” Ben Moshe asserted. That’s what attracted him and two partners to buy the veteran company in 2012, after a successful career as a vice president of several large Israeli corporations and a brief experience producing candles in Turkey.
Ben Moshe, 44, the son of a Canadian-born mother and an Iraqi father, served as an IDF paratrooper and is the father of four. An observant Jew, he takes pride in providing for the religious needs of Jews worldwide.
He’s quick to note that Menorah has expanded over the years to produce and export Shabbat candles, memorial candles, Havdalah candles, and, in the last year, individual cups of olive oil. Many in Israel prefer to commemorate the Hanukkah miracle of a single cruse of oil lasting for eight days in its original form.
Individual oil cups now constitute 15 percent of Menorah’s Hanukkah trade, a number Ben Moshe expects to rise as more Jews abroad adopt the olive oil custom.
The company tries to locally source paraffin, wicks, olive oil and dye, all the components that go into making the signature candles.

Ilan Ben Moshe, owner of Menorah Candle Company, in the small synagogue on the factory premises. Credit: Judy Lash Balint.

A parallel part of the Menorah ethos is providing employment and occupational therapy to local people with special needs. Ten of the 40 workers at the 75,000 sq. ft. plant are from the special needs community and are involved in various aspects of packing and shipping thousands of oil cups and candles daily.
Commercial candle making is a relatively simple but exacting process using paraffin and oil. The Sderot plant uses machinery manufactured and imported from Germany and China some 30 years ago that still functions well today. The wicks are eight-layers strong to create a steady flame. To create different colors, sizes and shapes of candles, many kinds of paraffin additions are required.
To keep up with demand and an exacting export schedule, production starts four months ahead of the holiday. Menorah’s biggest customers outside of Israel are in North America, France, Australia and South Africa, with business growing an average of 10 percent every year, Ben Moshe said.
One last stop on the factory tour is the small synagogue on its premises that is used for daily Torah study. Ben Moshe reflects on the candle legacy he’s perpetuating and growing bigger.
“God sent me here,” he said with a smile.

Es Brennt! November 2016, Israel is Burning

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Fri, 25 Nov 2016 12:23:00 +0000

The destruction of property and nature all across the country is beyond belief. Amongst the latest tragedies in the fires engulfing Israel is the life work of artist Yoram Raanan in Beit Meir, in the hills outside Jerusalem.

Last night the moshav was completely evacuated and little remains. What we can do to help the physical, emotional and financial recovery will emerge in the hours to come.

Look at www.yoramraanan.com to see pictures of Yoram's studio that was destroyed. I met Yoram during Sukkot at an exhibit in Jerusalem. Clearly one of the great contemporary Israeli artists.

Yoram and Meira Raanan

Authorities say residents won't be able to return to what is left of Beit Meir any time soon. One problem is the air quality--compromised because one of the building that went up at Beit Meir had an asbestos roof. Israel Radio reports 2 Palestinian teenagers arrested for setting the Beit Meir fire and another 12 Arabs arrested in other arson attacks.

Touring Beit Meir this morning, Prime Minister Netanyahu told the firefighters: "The most important thing is to evacuate people, and also yourselves. Nobody needs to die here, nobody. This is before anything else.

When you consider the level of destruction of property and nature over the past few days, it's amazing that there has so far been no loss of life. Most wildfires in the US, Spain, Portugal and Australia claim lives (e.g. 108 in Australia in 2009, 4 Portugal etc)

In Haifa, 700 homes were burned and more than 60,000 evacuated from their homes. Many of the residents have been allowed back into their homes before Shabbat, with thousands of others hosted by guest houses, hotels and friends in unaffected parts of the country.

As we go into Shabbat, another fire has broken out threatening Maale Hachamisha in the beautiful hills west of Jerusalem. Many of you have traveled with me to the military cemetery at Kiryat Anavim and then past Maale Hachamisha to Har Adar. Say a prayer for the community and the six firefighting crews currently fighting the blaze there.

How You Can Tell It's Almost Sukkot in Jerusalem

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Fri, 14 Oct 2016 04:00:00 +0000

1. You can’t get on a bus or ride the light rail without being poked in the rear by someone’s stray lulav.

2. The tourists have (finally) landed! All those luxury apartments that lie deserted during 50 weeks of the year are suddenly populated and lively. Overwhelmingly religious, English or French speaking, the proud apartment-owners jam the city’s take-out places and restaurants. The well-heeled visitors may be seen in packs wandering through the glitzy Mamilla Mall, talking to friends on their cell phones in English or French at top volume.

3.Almost every Israeli non-profit organization worth its salt has scheduled a fund-raising and/or familiarization event for the intermediate days of Sukkot, aimed at capturing the attention of the wealthy temporary Jerusalem residents.

4. Real estate agents are taking a deep breath before their busiest week of the year as they prepare to pitch their over-priced wares to eager foreign buyers. Each of the many luxury residential building projects around town has managed to put up billboards depicting the completed construction and inviting prospective buyers for a tour of an unfinished building site.

5. There's a constant clang of metal poles and the sounds of hammering are everywhere as Jerusalem’s apartment dwellers hurry to build their sukkot and squeeze them into small balconies, odd-shaped gardens and otherwise derelict rooftops.

6. The sweet smell of etrogim in Jerusalem’s Machane Yehuda is overpowering. Huge crowds descend on a lot on Jaffa Road near the market to vie for the most shapely lulav and etrog.

7. One enterprising bookstore is offering “Machzor rentals” for tourists who inadvertently left their holiday prayer books at home.

8. You’ve never seen such gaudy sukkah decorations in your life—unless you’ve been to WalMart on Christmas Eve. Kiosks manned by bearded Haredim are selling gold, green and red tinsel hangings, made in China, and exact replicas of Christmas decorations in the old country.

Photo: © Judy Lash Balint

9. City workers have spent the last few weeks in a frenzy of tree-trimming. The municipality deposits huge piles of schach (palm fronds for the roof of the sukkah) in major city squares, and citizens are invited to take as much as they need for free.

10. Tens of thousands are expected at the Western Wall for the thrice-yearly observance of the ancient ritual of Birkat Cohanim –the Blessing by the Priests–that takes place during the intermediate days of Sukkot.

11. Hundreds more Jerusalemites and visitors will stand in line outside the official Presidential Residence on Hanassi Street in Talbieh to press the flesh with President Reuven Rivlin. Traditionally every Israeli president opens the residence on Sukkot to greet the citizenry.

12. Like Christmas tree lots back in the US, empty city lots all over Jerusalem are taken over to sell sukkot of every size and description. Some are marketed by large companies and feature the latest space-saving technology and hardiest materials, while others are simpler affairs made of tubular piping and fabric walls. Every kosher restaurant in town has a sukkah of some kind and each boasts bigger and better holiday specials to entice customers.

13. Since the entire week of Sukkot is a national holiday you’ll have a tough time deciding which festival/event to take part in. There’s the Fringe Theater Festival in Akko; the Haifa International Film Festival; the Maayanot Festival: the Storytelling Festival in Givatayim and the Gush Etzion Festival to name just a few.

14. Touring the country is another favorite Sukkot activity an political and environmental groups of all stripes are promoting trips to “See For Yourself.”

15. Not to be left out are the tenacious Christian friends of Israel—this year the International Christian Embassy of Jerusalem (ICEJ) will bring thousands of people from 100 nations to attend their annual Feast of Tabernacles celebration. The Christian contingent dressed in costumes of their country of origin will also take part in another annual Sukkot event, the Jerusalem March, where tens of thousands proudly march through several routes in the capital.

Not everyone is happy about the Feast, however. In 2007 Israel’s Chief Rabbinate’s Committee for the Prevention of the Spread of Missionary Work in the Holy Land issued a ruling forbidding Jews from participating in the Jerusalem march organized by the ICEJ. The committee wrote in its decision, endorsed by both chief rabbis, that halacha forbids Jews to participate in any of the Christian sponsored gatherings.

16. Another prominent group of tourists on the way over are refugees from the young American frum singles scene who make an annual migration to Jerusalem from the Upper West Side for Sukkot. Discreet meetings of earnest, well-scrubbed, modestly dressed, twenty and thirty-somethings take place in all the major Jerusalem hotel lobbies. A bottle of water or diet Coke on the table next to the guy's black hat is the give-away that it's a date.

17. And speaking of refugees–spare a thought for those expelled from their homes in Gush Katif back in August 2005. More than eleven years on and there are still families not yet living in permanent housing.

Neither they nor any other Israeli will need to be reminded of one of the essential messages of Sukkot –the flimsiness of our physical existence and our reliance on God for sustenance and shelter.

Welcome to Israel's Day of No Traffic Lights

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Wed, 12 Oct 2016 20:01:00 +0000

I know most Jews call Yom Kippur by other names, but here in Jerusalem, it's the Day of No Traffic Lights. There are no traffic lights because there's no traffic on Yom Kippur in Jerusalem. The city just turns off the lights for 25 hours.

Imagine—an entire country without any motor vehicle traffic apart from emergency vehicles and security patrols. The quiet is absolutely stunning. Starting from sundown on erev Yom Kippur, 25 hours of blissful peace and quiet. Think of the negative carbon footprint impact!

In the hours before Yom Kippur, Israeli air space closes: not a single commercial airplane is in Israeli air space for more than 25 hours. [Graphic: Avi Mayer]

No traffic; radio and TV stations are silent; no phones ringing; no home appliances whirring; no airplanes overhead—you can actually hear the wind in the trees and the song of the birds.

Pedestrians share the road with bicycles ridden by hundreds of secular Israelis who savor the day as a safe opportunity to try out their biking skills with no annoying traffic lights or crazy Israeli drivers. But the overwhelming sense is of a people taking a complete day to evaluate and perhaps change their lives.

Walking to Kol Nidre, the streets are thronged with people clad in white, to signify purity and a withdrawal for one day from the vanities of our usual fancy clothing.

Every synagogue is packed to overflowing, and several hundred community centers around the country also offer Yom Kippur services with emphasis on discussion and openness for those who might never before stepped foot in a synagogue.

After the Kol Nidre prayers are over, it's as if the entire city spills out onto the streets. Strolling along in the middle of streets usually clogged with cars is the main pastime as people saunter off home, greeting friends along the way.

In the tony Talbieh neighborhood of Jerusalem, you might even have spotted Prime Minister Netanyahu and his family strolling home with their security entourage. The PM attended Kol Nidre services at a synagogue a short walk from his official residence. In case anyone is interested, the official government press announcement was careful to note :

The Prime Minister wore a prayer shawl and non-leather shoes, according to custom.

This Yom Kippur, the weather was a perfect 78 degrees. Last year, I spent the closing Neilah service of Yom Kippur at a shul just down the street, as it was just too hot to trek back down to my regular shul after the break.

As I took a seat at the very back of that neighborhood shul, an elderly woman was wheeled in by her son who parked her wheelchair just in front of me. Her fingers were severely misshapen and she wore thick glasses. She carefully unfolded a copy of the Amidah part of the Neilah-(closing) service that had been blown up on large sheets of paper. Next, she carefully extracted a magnifying glass from a little box and oblivious to the Chazan, proceeded to painstakingly slide the magnifying glass over every word of the prayers. She completed her reading just as the congregation came to the closing verses and she joined in the fervent singing of 'Next year in a Rebuilt Jerusalem.' She even managed to clap as the men danced in a lively circle to express joy at having been given another opportunity to make amends before God.

After the piercing tones of the shofar marked the conclusion of another Day of No Traffic Lights and the congregation clamored out of the doors to get home for refreshments, half a dozen secular people from the neighborhood were arriving, hoping to hear the shofar. This particular shul finished a few minutes before the appointed time for the end of the holiday, so the neighbors were disappointed to have missed it, but another group was still praying in another part of the building, and the outsiders quickly made their way down the stairs to take in the tradition.

Before I even made it home, a few cars were already on the streets and the Day of No Traffic Lights was no more.

Shavuot: Jerusalem Style

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Thu, 23 Jun 2016 08:30:00 +0000

Every year on Shavuot night I try to stay up for at least one or two of the classes offered in different venues around Jerusalem before heading to bed for a few hours and then setting out on the darkened streets to join the flood of Jews hurrying to the Kotel, drawn like iron filings to a magnet. It's my favorite night of the year.

Photo: Judy Lash Balint

This year, I just couldn’t stay awake for the classes to start at 11:30 p.m, and I rationalized that being counted among the mass of Jews going up to the Kotel was actually a more meaningful manifestation of Jewish people-hood than pulling a personal all-nighter.

I haul myself out of bed and leave my apartment a little before 4 a.m, breathing in the blessedly cool pre-dawn air, joining others all heading toward the main streets of Jerusalem where we become absorbed into the river of people of all ages.

On this holiday of Shavuot that commemorates the giving of the Torah, the symbolic wedding between God and the Jewish people, most of the women are wearing white. We hear Hebrew, French, English, Russian and Portuguese as we flood down King David Street before the crowd gathers force and takes over the Mamilla Mall. A group of students from the Reform-affiliated Hebrew Union College spill out of the gate; one of the women is wearing jeans and a small white kippa. Two yeshiva boys in black coats and hats giver her a sideways glance before hurrying past. All of us are drawn to the same destination.

The Tower of David rises in front of us, outlined by spotlights. It’s 4:25 a.m as we surge forward through Jaffa Gate. There are only four entryways into the Kotel plaza and they’re all completely overwhelmed by the number of people pressing to get in. There’s barely room to move as more and more people surge in from each of the four entry points. I listen to the expressions of amazement of American students as they round the stairs and absorb the sight of the largest gathering of Jews they’ve ever seen.

This year, Ramadan is in full swing, and stragglers from the Muslim night of celebrations are wending their way through the throngs, as their day of fasting is about to begin. No one reacts to the women in their hijabs or the men accompanying them as they head out of Dung Gate toward Silwan.

Off in the back of the plaza, Chabadniks are unloading a truck packed with dozens of boxes of food for the post-davening Kiddush to which everyone is invited. The atmosphere is light, almost light-headed you could say, from lack of sleep as young and old congratulate each other for making it through the night.

The sky is an exquisite shade of deep midnight blue with the trees and gravestones of the Mount of Olives standing out in stark outlined contrast. The hills of Moab on the horizon are tinged with soft pink light. It takes about 15 minutes for the heavens to begin to change hue and turn slowly from a dark, midnight blue to a lighter, bright blue. Chattering starlings swoop around the ancient walls, and the voices of the throng rise in prayer.

I don’t attempt to go down to the Kotel plaza: I find it hard to get into prayer mode with the crowds, so I take up a position at the railing just in front of the gold menorah adjacent to the last flight of steps leading down to the Kotel. It’s the best place to take in the majestic transformation from night to dawn over the Temple Mount. A spirited group of students from the Orayta Yeshiva soon come dancing down the stairs and stake out the space right behind where I’m standing for their minyan. I join in their davening, realizing with gratitude that there is no better place in the world to be at that particular moment. The sun appears over the Kotel at 5:50 a.m, exactly the moment we start to recite Hallel.

Ten minutes later, the students follow their Rabbi Binny Freedman back to the yeshiva for the Torah reading and I need to find a place to say the Yizkor memorial prayer. I’m having trouble finding an empty seat at any shul in the Old City.

At Yeshivat Hakotel the women’s section is completely packed, with dozens standing and others sitting on the stairs. The massive Hurva and smaller Ramban synagogues are also overflowing. Eventually, I wander into the lesser-known and almost empty Menachem Tzion shul, where Yizkor is just getting underway. We walk home under a cloudless sky, along the blissfully quiet streets, anticipating coffee, cheesecake and sleep.

Photo: Judy Lash Balint

In addition to showing up en masse at the Kotel on Shavuot morning, thousands of Israeli Jews, religious and secular, have adopted some form of the centuries-old Kabbalistic custom of Tikkun Leil Shavuot, a night dedicated to Torah study, and use the night to immerse themselves in learning and discussion. In contrast, a May 18 2007 editorial in The Forward, noted, “…the proportion of Jews that turns out for the festival (Shavuot) will not be great…Shavuot simply hasn’t caught on with recent generations of Jews.”

Maybe things have changed by now—I haven’t spent Shavuot outside Israeli since 1997—or is the divergence in Shavuot observance another indicator of the widening gap between Israel and the Diaspora?

A Jerusalem Vision, Jerusalem Day--Yom Yerushalayim 2016

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Sat, 04 Jun 2016 19:55:00 +0000

Aaron Ettinger, one of the paratroopers who fought in Jerusalem during the Six Day War, was severely wounded on Salah e-Din Street near Damascus Gate.

A few years ago, at a Jerusalem Day sing-along at a synagogue around the corner from the President’s Residence, Aaron was given the microphone in between the Jerusalem songs to
recount his experiences during the two hellish days of the battle for Jerusalem in June 1967.

The elderly, slightly portly man with a full head of white hair topped with a knitted kipa, spoke about the number of his comrades (mostly reservists from kibbutzim) who fell in the worst of the battles that took place on the northern side of the Old City on Nablus Road, Salah e-Din Street and in front of Damascus Gate.

On Tuesday, June 6 1967, Aaron’s Tzanchanim (parachute unit) reported 100 dead and 600 injured. The death toll overall rose to 181, with more than 1000 wounded.

Aaron himself sustained critical injuries and eventually was taken to Hadassah Ein Kerem Hospital, where he was initially listed as dead

Damascus Gate itself was heavily damaged during the fighting and only fully restored in 2011.

In recent months, Damascus Gate has been the scene for numerous stabbing attacks on Jewish Israelis and Israeli security personnel. Last week, it was alive with the creative lighting designs of Jerusalem's Light Festival projected onto her ancient stones. Tourists and Israelis alike took in the spectacle. On Sunday afternoon, the 49th anniversary of the reunification of Jerusalem, thousands of teenagers waving Israeli flags will pour through the Damascus Gate portal on their way to the celebration in front of the Kotel. Later in the evening, masses of Muslims marking the first day of Ramadan will take almost the same route, turning off to enter the Temple Mount via entryways closed to Jews and Christians for most of the day.

Celebrating Jerusalem Day the traditional way © Judy Lash Balint

Who can say whether this was the Jerusalem envisioned by Aaron Ettinger and his fellow fighters? But for those of us who live here we honor their struggle and sacrifice that allow us to be part of the mosaic of Jerusalem.

Jerusalem Culture Always Surprises

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Sun, 03 Apr 2016 20:22:00 +0000

A few nights ago, I thought I was going to an evening honoring the first yahrzeit of Lia Van Leer, one of the founders of the Jerusalem Cinematheque, one of my favorite Jerusalem institutions. I feel a special connection to Lia, since it was her husband, Wim, who saved my father from Buchenwald and got him into England. (A long story for another time..)

I read the blurb about the film to be shown, Thru You Princess, and bought a ticket not thinking too much about it. On the way in, I noticed the star, Princess Shaw, giving an interview in the hallway...barely anyone looked her way.

By the end of the evening, after the screening of the film, a discussion with the director and a performance by Princess Shaw and Kutiman, the kibbutznik music arranger who "discovered" her, most of the 400 people in the audience were on their feet, applauding and whistling their approval.

And what was the response of this New Orleans nurse's aide and YouTube star who admits in the film she'd never really heard of Tel Aviv? "I love you people: Israel is my home, you know that, right?"

We left on a high--a musical high thanks to Princess Shaw's immense songwriting talent and Kutiman's creativity; and an ideological high after seeing how the artistic experience can open windows and doors into unexpected places.

A few days later my Shabbat wanderings took me to the Israel Museum--entrance is free if you're a member or with a press card. A wildly different, but uniquely Jerusalem cultural experience.

The walk there is via the peaceful Valley of the Cross, one of Jerusalem's loveliest urban, undeveloped open areas. On this warm, sunny, clear, blissful spring day dozens of people are spread out on the grass all over the park under the shade of old olive and almond trees. Kids of all ages are running freely through the bushes and around the rocks still dotted with delicate cyclamen and a few remaining kalaniyot. Young couples are picnicking in secluded corners.

A few steps away, there's a line to get into the museum--all kinds of people are there: mostly Israelis, very few tourists. Lots of families with kids. Most of us head to the recently opened Pharoah in Canaan temporary exhibit.

It's an incredible display, beautifully curated and presented, with fascinating objects on loan from the Met in New York, the Louvre and the Kunsthistoriches Museum in Vienna,as well as some amazing artifacts discovered in digs in Israel, all interspersed with short films that provide insight and background.

The exhibit tells a story that does not appear in the Bible--the story of the interchange between Ancient Egypt and the Land of Canaan in the 2nd millennium BCE, and a wild story it is.

Across the hall, is another temporary exhibit, about Hadrian, that features three bronze busts of the Emperor Hadrian, the only three to have survived from antiquity, as well as items from the doomed Jews of the Bar Kochba revolt put down by the ruthless Emperor.

Walking down the museum promenade, passing the Billy Rose Art Garden with its majestic sculptures and the constant cooling jets pouring over the Shrine of the Book, we leave on a different kind of cultural high. And with the realization that on any given day, Jerusalem is abuzz with the kind of dynamic cultural and spiritual life that marks us as the center of the Jewish universe.

Jerusalem, In A Perfect World

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Sat, 05 Mar 2016 21:13:00 +0000

I know, almost every city is beautiful in the springtime, but not every city has one day per week when, in addition to the perfect weather and the gorgeous, colorful blossoms, a sense of peace and quiet descends.

That's Shabbat in Jerusalem--an oasis of calm that pervades most places in the city.

As I publicly confessed recently, every Shabbat morning I set out on a different walk to drink in the atmosphere, learn something new about this endlessly fascinating city and connect with its history and purpose.

This morning, with blue skies and mild temperature, we started off through the nearby Chursha green space, where the ankle-high grass and spread of purple and yellow wildflowers almost tempted us to spread out and spend the morning there in the sunshine.

But we move on, passing a number of elegant pre-1948 villas that dot the small streets of the Talbieh neighborhood that was once home to wealthy Christian Arabs. The British Mandate-era building on Mane Street that once housed the AACI (Association of Americans & Canadians in Israel) is still standing, but the offices are abandoned and the space that was once the courtyard where many a book and yard sale had taken place, is now filled with concrete and surrounded by multi-story luxury apartment buildings. Most of the shutters are down, and no flowers are on the balconies: almost sure signs of the ubiquitous absentee owner syndrome that plagues many Jerusalem neighborhoods.

Crossing Keren Hayesod Street, another large luxury development complex on Lincoln and Washington Streets greets us. At the synagogue built into the ground floor, a couple of guys wearing tallitot are taking a breather outside. Weaving our way along the side of the building, past the offices of the World Jewish Congress and StandWithUs, we emerge across the street from the venerable King David Hotel. In the empty lobby, all is calm and evocative of another era. The deep leather seats, high ceilings and marble floors are steeped with the history of decades of encounters between world leaders, religious figures, Zionist activists, revolutionaries and fighters.

We pick up a newspaper and head out to the garden via the patio that looks toward the Old City walls. There's no one about as we soak in the sun, listen to the birds and marvel at the manicured grounds and the trimmed rosebushes--it's as if the Brits never left!

A few people are having a late breakfast on the terrace of the YMCA across the street, but here too, the lobby is empty and the art exhibit has no viewers. Walking through the arched walkway past the auditorium, it's so quiet that we can hear the singing coming from Advent House on the next street behind the Eldan Hotel. It's the Jerusalem home of the Seventh Day Adventists where a small group of Asian women dressed in black are harmonizing their Sabbath morning prayers.

Time for some more greenery and spectacular views, so we cross into the Bloomfield Garden behind the King David Hotel. Along with a tomb that's supposedly that of members of Herod's family, it's an area of rolling lawns, old olive trees, blossoming carob and almond trees, meandering pathways and benches with beautiful views of Jaffa Gate, Mt Zion and the red slate rooftops of Yemin Moshe.

Heading south through the park, the fountains are gurgling and the secluded path lined with the huge tendrils of a tropical plant makes a dramatic entry to the landmark windmill of Yemin Moshe. The expanse to the south of the windmill is one of the best spots to look over the Old City and the Hinnom Valley on a clear day. Here too, there's barely anyone around. Down at the Lions Fountain, two busloads of Ethiopian immigrants, many in traditional Ethiopian dress, are snapping selfies with the lions (the national symbol of Ethiopia, as well as Jerusalem).

Heading home, we pass the empty lot designated as poet Yehuda Amichai's "neighborhood" and continue on the small, quiet streets where a few people are out on their balconies and others are strolling home from synagogue.

They say that Shabbat is an oasis in time--a taste of the world to come, according to the Talmud.There's no better place to experience that than on a spring day in Jerusalem.

Dafna, Shmuel and Lives that Were Changed

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Thu, 21 Jan 2016 22:17:00 +0000

I've been writing for Emunah Magazine for years. Emunah runs a network of residential homes and educational facilities for disadvantaged kids that change lives.

Dafna Meir, the mother of 6 murdered earlier this week by a 15 year-old Arab terror-teen, came from a difficult home background and spent part of her childhood in Emunah's Achuzat Sara Children's Home in Bnei Brak.

Achuzat Sara is an oasis of order and stability in a rundown neighborhood peopled almost exclusively by poor, ultra-orthodox families. What's most striking about Achuzat Sara is not its fancy building--it was built in the early 1960s--but the quiet dedication of its leadership and staff. Shmuel Ron, director of the home, moved his wife Ita and their four kids into the grounds when he started working there, back in the 1980s.

Shmuel Ron, Director of Achuzat Sara

I interviewed Shmuel several years ago, and he told me, "My first job is to make the children feel comfortable here, to be a better place than the homes they came from. We give them a home that looks a lot like a house, not an institution," he explained as he proudly showed me around the tidy, cluster-style accommodations, each headed by a Torah observant young couple.

"Our next goal is to take them as they are, and to help them go as far as possible," Shmuel added.

As we walked around the immaculate campus where thousands of needy and traumatized Israeli kids have found a refuge over the years, Shmuel told me that most institutions steer away from the really difficult and most needy kids. "Here we see them as a mission. That's what drives me; to do whatever we can to heal the wounds."

Dafna became a nurse, a wife, a mother and foster mother, an advisor and teacher on halachic issues regarding fertility and a pillar of her community, Otniel.

I'd say Dafna, Shmuel and Emunah fulfilled their mission.

Shabbat Bliss in Jerusalem

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Sun, 20 Dec 2015 16:21:00 +0000

So, despite more horror here over Shabbat--this time in suburban Raanana,--I wasn't aware of it until after Shabbat.

In Jerusalem, it was another incredibly gorgeous, sunny, cool day so I figured I'd head to the Kotel. There are a number of ways to get there from my place, all scenic in some way, some less hilly than others, so today I took the least hilly one, that takes me through the green space that's a short cut into the Talbieh neighborhood.

Since we've had a fair bit of rain, and a ton of sunny days, the little purple/pink cyclamen are already peeking out of the bright green grass. It's around 9 a.m and there's barely any traffic, so I cut across the streets against the lights and I'm singing to myself the Yaakov Shweky version of "Vehi sheamda."

As I turn onto King David Street in front of the King David Hotel, a youngish guy holding a tallit bag passes me from behind and picks up the tune! After a few steps, he turns, still singing, and gives me the thumbs up sign as he runs up the steps to the Hebrew Union College building, heading to his Reform minyan.

So now I have an even bigger smile on my face as I head down the street toward Mamilla. When I walked into the mall I couldn't believe my eyes--not a single soul anywhere along the whole length of the thing. Really incredible feeling, to have the whole mall to myself, looking at the sculptures, checking out the storefronts, and singing the whole way! Only when I'd walked about half the way to Jaffa Gate did I see a few guys wearing tallit coming the other direction, from the Kotel. Just after I passed them, I began to hear strains of a trumpet with keyboard backup--pretty unusual for a shabbat morning near Jaffa Gate. As I got closer, I abandoned my "Vehi sheamda" and joined in with him--it was some non-Jewish, older guy blasting out Sinatra's "My Way!"

It felt great to get inside Jaffa Gate and be in the Old City again. I was there a few weeks ago, but the Shabbat atmosphere is so very different. Two haredi guys completely dressed in white, including their beards, passed me by, chattering away in Yiddish. Tons of border patrol guys and women everywhere, and a goodly number of tourists too. I stopped in at the Christ Church compound to get some water and check out the missionary activity. Their courtyard is serene and beautiful, so I sat for a while absorbing the peace and quiet. From there, on through the beginning of the Armenian Quarter to the St James cut through to the Jewish Quarter. By now it's around 9:30 a.m, so the sounds of tefilla are wafting through the windows of some of the small shuls along the way.

Every time I go to the Old City I try to discover something new; some new alleyway, or route somewhere, so today instead of just walking through the main square and down the steps to the kotel, I cut off to the north into the more residential part of the quarter. Wonderful to see all the kids and young families in the little playgrounds that dot the quarter. I end up at the Israelite Tower and then take Shonei Halachot Street, which leads straight down to the observation point way above the kotel. It's a steep street with beautiful Crusader arches and lots of homes of wealthy Jewish families. Most of the houses have rooftops with a view of Har Habayit. It's one of the loveliest streets in the Old City.

Shonei Halachot Street

The observation point overlooking the kotel and beyond that's usually filled with tourists, is empty, so I just stand there mesmerized by it all. It's the best place to see the relatively recent excavations directly below at the back of the kotel plaza.


The kotel observation point packed on Jerusalem Day. Deserted this Shabbat. Photo © Judy Lash Balint

The Mt of Olives is in the background; the hills of Moab just visible behind Silwan to the south, and, of course, the people...

From there I take the short way down via Chain Street into the kotel plaza. Around 5 competing minyanim are going on in the men's side, but on the women's side it's relatively empty, with room to slide into a spot at the kotel itself.

It takes a few minutes to pull myself together and just reflect on how incredibly fortunate I am to be here. I always think of my grandparents, whom I never knew, when I'm there. My parents came many times to Israel, but all my grandparents, who perished in the camps and never stepped foot outside Europe, they too had Jerusalem in their hearts: I know it. Yet I'm the one who's here...

It's not difficult to have real kavana here. Sitting outside in the sunshine; feeling the protectiveness of the shechinah that's always hovering here; davening at whatever pace I feel goes with what's going on inside my neshama. Taking breaks to close my eyes and breathe it all in. Truly an awesome Shabbat experience.

Before I leave, I walk down to the egalitarian section, near Robinson's Arch--I realize I should have gone there in the first place: as usual, there isn't a single person there.

Walking back through the main plaza to the exit stairs, I catch a rare sight! Two fully armed border police with no head covering at all chatting amicably with three hasidim, decked out in full regalia: with their Shabbat finest shtreimels, kapotes, white stockings...would have loved to get a photo of that!

On the stairs I run into Avi Bell, a brilliant young law professor I know. He's in the forefront of attempts to combat the EU trade sanctions against Israel and he fills me in on his latest strategy.

I walk out via Zion Gate and sit outside for a moment staring at the pockmarks of 1948 and 1967 splattered across the ancient masonry. Walking down the alleyway, I notice that the huge blue iron gate of the Armenian cathedral and cemetery is unlocked. I push it open and get about 100 yards down the pathway before the guard yells at me to get out of the private space--nice try, Judy!

At the top of the snake path outside the walls of the Old City, there's a fabulous view over the red roofs of Yemin Moshe and to the south, the Gehenom Valley. I can see the people at the kiddush on the balcony of the Ashkenazi shul in Yemin Moshe. The rest of the way home is beautiful, warm, quiet--apart from the birds, and uneventful, apart from passing a notable number of French speakers who, like me, are enjoying the peace of a Jerusalem Shabbat.

Reverberations of Terror: Round Two

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Tue, 24 Nov 2015 14:22:00 +0000

I wonder if yesterday’s stabbing victim, IDF soldier Ziv Mizrachi, 18, is to be buried today next to his uncle, Alon Mizrachi, 22.

Alon Mizrachi, 22, H"YD

Ziv Mizrachi, 18, H"YD

Ziv was stabbed multiple times as he stopped at a gas station on Rte. 443, the main road from Modiin to Jerusalem. Alon was the friendly security guard at Cafe Hillel on Emek Refaim, known to all the Anglos in the German Colony who frequented the then popular hang‐out.

Alon was killed in the bomb attack that also took the lives of six other Israelis, including Dr. David Applebaum, 51, and his daughter, Nava, 20, on the eve of her wedding.

Ziv lived with his family in Givat Ze'ev on Alon Street, named for his uncle who was murdered in 2003.

The 2003 Cafe Hillel bombing was an earth shattering event for many of us in the neighborhood at the time. I wrote about it then, but the reverberations I spoke of then are still being felt, 13 years later. Back then I wrote:

"The explosion that tore through our neighborhood a few days ago has reverberated through every fiber of the lives of all of us in the area, and consumed our emotions and attention. I had naively assumed that the enormity of the impact of the tragedies would have rippled through the media too, as they had through Jewish communities throughout the world by word of mouth...

Here in the close-knit community of English-speaking immigrants, the impact of that fraction of a second explosion has been enormous. The horrendous blow to people we all know and a place we all frequent has shaken almost everyone. Dozens of e-mails circulate from people who found themselves at various stages of proximity to Cafe Hillel ? my guess is that like myself, many writers use these expressions to provide some catharsis for the anguish we feel.

Looking at the faces of neighbors and friends over the past few days, the shell-shock is evident. Many who live within a half mile of Cafe Hillel report feeling the physical force of the explosion through their bodies. Those who raced out of their apartments to see what happened saw horrific sights. The rest of us just heard it. Such experiences must have a profound psychological and physical effect that we're not yet even fully aware of. Almost everyone I speak to reports having difficulty sleeping the past few nights." [Click here to read the full article]

Even though Cafe Hillel is long gone, I still find myself thinking of Alon whenever I pass that corner. Now, his name will be forever linked to his nephew, Ziv, who was all of five years old at the time.

But along with the pain and the anguished attempt to come to terms with an enemy whose tactics and targets are so vile that normal methods of warfare are rendered impotent; along with all this, there's beauty, culture, faith, unity, creativity, ingenuity and steadfastness in this country to calm the soul.

A few beautiful scenes from Jerusalem this morning:

Sephardi synagogue David Hamelech

Showing the flag

Layers of history in an Old Katamon building

Shaking down olives in the 'hood

Citrus season

three sisters.

Dealing With Acts of Hostility in Israel

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Tue, 13 Oct 2015 09:59:00 +0000

I know it's the middle of the night in the U.S, but I know many people who wake up and first thing you do is turn to the news from Israel. Just want to reassure you that (so far!) I'm OK. It's only noon here, but this has already been one of the most horrendous days since the dark, horrible days of the second intifada.

Border patrol on alert in Jerusalem. Photo: Judy Lash Balint

Would love to know if any of what's going down here is making the MSM news over there. I can't even keep up with the number of attacks that have happened here over just the past 5-6 hours. All roads in and out of Jerusalem were closed for an hour this morning following stabbings at Malchei Yisrael Street and Shaar Shechem; + a horrendous bus attack in Armon Hanatziv ; 2 stabbing attacks in Raanana ( the 'burbs, where nothing ever happens); one in Holon. The list keeps growing by the minute, and this after yesterday, when a 13-year-old Jewish kid buying candy was stabbed by a 13-year-old Arab in Pisgat Zeev. He remains in critical condition.

I've been at work in the German Colony at the Jerusalem Center for Public Affairs, my 3-day per week think tank job, since about 8:30 a.m. We're trying to work on the logistics for a major conference on Syria that we're hosting in a few weeks, but it's almost impossible to concentrate. Sirens outside, helicopters overhead, constant checking of the apps that instantly broadcast news of the attacks (for those Hebrew speakers among you, best site is 0404 either on Facebook or their app) Frequent checking in with friends, family who could have been in the area of the pigua.

This is different from the tension of the Gaza War of August 2014--yes, we were all on edge then too and the Red Alerts for incoming missiles kept us up at night, BUT, people did at least feel some kind of control. We knew then, from the instructions of the Home Front Command that were broadcast constantly on radio, TV, internet, exactly what to do--how many seconds people in each region had to run for the protected space, and what to do if you were caught in a missile attack while on the highway.

In contrast, this time, we have heard nothing from the Home Front Command about how to deal with a lone terrorist stabber (or Palestinian Knife Man, as Reuters wrote in a headline this morning that surely qualifies for the 2015 Most Ridiculous Headline of the Year Prize)

Social media is fueling this latest wave--hundreds of Arab sites spreading lies about Har Habayit and inciting and encouraging "resistance." This terror wave is also the direct result of the tens of thousands of Arab teens who attended those lovely Hamas summer camps a few months ago and received combat training.

Meanwhile, one of my colleagues reports this phone conversation between he and his wife today:

T: "Hi babe!
R: What's up?
T: Just checking that you are alive.
R: I'm still alive.
T: Oh, cool.

"We must have this conversation 20 times a day."

This is what passes for normal dialogue between couples in Jerusalem today...

I'll be heading for the kotel after work to have a few words with He Who Controls all Things and to pray for the wounded and the families and friends of the latest round of those taken by acts of hostility, as Yagil Henkin, brother of Rav Eitam and Naama Henkin calls them. Yagil emphasized in his hesped. that they are not "victims of terror..."

What can you do? Certainly pray for us, keep us in your thoughts, talk about what's going on here, bring it up in shul/school--believe it or not, that gives us tremendous chizuk. Additionally, please do go after the media in their ludicrous portrayal of the incidents where Israel "eliminates" the terrorist and we are then made to look as if we are killing off Arab teenagers. Another of my colleagues, Dr. Yitzhak Mansdorf, treated a witness of the first Ra'anana attack this morning and then was outraged when he read the report from the Palestinian Maan News Agency. He blasted off a response on Facebook: He wrote:

"I, a person who has participated in numerous reconciliation and co-existence events with Palestinians, witnessed a bald lie written in Ma'an news this AM. I personally treated a witness of the attack in Ra'anana--clearly a Palestinian screaming "allaku akbar" who then stabbed a Jew sitting near him. The terrorist was restrained, wounded and put of action, so his clear attempt at murder was ended. When 1-2 understandably upset bystanders tried to hurt him further--he was protected by others--including the mayor. Ma'an twisted this story and described what they said was an "attack by settlers" on this Palestinian. The fact that people in pre-'67 Israel are also considered "settlers" tells one all one needs to know about the mindset of those who seek a violent solution. Those of you who continue to lie and spread the calumny of Jews attacking Palestinians, when in truth, these are murderous acts by Palestinians-- are part of the problem--I don't suppose that what actually happens will change your rigid ideological cognitive paralysis, but this continued denial of Palestinian initiated attacks instead of properly condemning, and in fact recognizing this violence, is no compliment to your professed zeal for human rights and only furthers the bloodshed of Palestinian children." http://www.maannews.net/Content.aspx?id=803489

Hope not to have to post another update today..

Meaningful Numbers...

noreply@blogger.com (judyinjerusalem) — Wed, 07 Oct 2015 05:48:00 +0000

Everyone knows survivors of the Shoah are dying off. Here in Israel, more than a thousand Holocaust survivors pass away every month, according to figures from the Foundation for the Benefit of Holocaust Victims in Israel.

Photo: The Independent. UK

Unlike when I first made aliya back in the 1990s, it's rare these days to see people whose arms are branded with those ugly, dark blue numbers, marking them as survivors of the Nazi camps.

But this happened yesterday, on a #13 bus in Jerusalem. I sat down on a rear-facing seat next to an elderly woman and across from two younger women. After one stop, the woman opposite me made a remark about the fashion sense of a cluster of people we had just passed at a street corner. That got us all going, and a lively conversation ensued about the state of the shops along King David Street and the state of things in the country.

After a few moments silence, I saw the woman across from me who had started the conversation, staring intently at the older woman sitting next to me.

"It's real," the older one said. I had no idea what she was talking about until I glanced sideways and caught sight of the numbers visible on her wrinkled forearm.

"Jasenovac," she added in a matter of fact tone, naming one of the more notorious camps in what is now Croatia. "I was 14. Born in Yugoslavia, deported." "I made aliya alone in 1948 and never looked back. I have four kids and 17 grandchildren."

Yes, those are the important numbers, I told her; not the ones branded on your arm.