The Jewish Holidays In Israel

We were very excited to be in Israel for the Jewish holidays - Marc's first Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and Sukkot in the Holy Land, and Eden's first since she was three years old.  But to be honest, as the holidays were approaching, we also were feeling a bit sad and lonely.  We have a fantastic, close-knit community at Temple Beth Abraham in Oakland and we had grown accustomed to the company of our rabbi, friends and congregation on the holidays - and to our own distinct customs, like taking a walk around Lake Merritt on Yom Kippur in the middle of the day.  Familiar routines and rituals helped provide added meaning to these landmarks of the Jewish calendar.  But here in Israel, everything is new for us and we really don't have any particular community or congregation.  We were afraid we'd be a bit lost and disconnected.

But in the end, we experienced something new and exciting, while also finding a meaningful connection.

For Erev Rosh Hashanah, we had dinner with Eden's cousin, Raya, who lives in Tel Aviv and whom Eden visited the last time she came to Israel, in 1990.  It was a delicious meal and a lot of fun.  We savored the beautiful views of the city and the beach from Raya's charming apartment; the intriguing new dishes we hadn't eaten before, like a memorable salad with fresh dates and pomegranates; the lively discussions about Israeli life and culture; and perhaps most of all sharing stories and laughter with family.  It was a new experience to start the new year, but we also felt a tight bond with our heritage and with Eden's own personal past.

The next day, we traveled to Modi'in (a fairly new and rapidly growing city in between Tel Aviv in Jerusalem) to celebrate Rosh Hashanah with the family of Eden's college friend Deb.  Deb, her husband Larry, and their three children made aliyah (which means they immigrated to Israel from the United States) one year ago.  Rosh Hashanah in Modi'in was a new experience in a place we'd never been before.  But in many ways it felt very familiar.  We talked about our many common experiences - life in Boston, NCAA football and Major League Baseball, how we missed American micro-brewed beers, adjusting to Israeli drivers, balancing career with family life, and how the kids were reacting to living in Israel and going to a new school.  The kids played with each other, Eden caught up with her college friend, we made new friends, and at the playground we were struck by the number of people speaking English (with American and British accents).  It was a very enjoyable day, as we gained insight into a new place that actually didn't seem so far away from home. 

Yom Kippur was another enriching adventure.  The day before, we had a playdate at the home of our new friends Holly (almost 6 years old) and Hillel (7) and their father, Ben Ami.  As time flew by and the kids were having fun playing cards and other games, we were treated to a fabulous pre-fast meal.  Ben Ami's wife, Becky, was out of the country but had left quite a spread:  homemade chopped liver and gefilte fish, perfectly cooked roast beef, scrumptious baby tomatoes cooked in garlic and olive oil, and perhaps the largest challah we'd ever seen.  Ben Ami told us that the bakery was open all of the previous night making challahs in preparation for the holiday.  We ate like King David!

As the sun was setting, we started to walk home - and it was a stunning sight:  the normally busy streets of Ramat Gan were completely empty of any vehicular traffic.  Many people were walking to synagogue but others were just out walking.  And children were out in force, filling the streets with skateboards, roller-skates, and bicycles.  Upon seeing this spectacle, Jeremy declared:  "I love Yom Kippur in Israel!"   The streets were alive with people late into the warm night.  It certainly wasn't the solemn atmosphere of Kol Nidre (the opening prayer of the Yom Kippur service), but it was a special time set apart from regular affairs, as everything - businesses, offices, schools, roads - shut down entirely for a day and people set aside their cars, televisions and cell phones.  People everywhere were sitting or strolling with their family and friends and, in a way, with the whole neighborhood.  We didn't take our camera out on Yom Kippur, but here are some photographs we found on the internet to show you what it's like in Tel Aviv.

A major Tel Aviv freeway

Quite a dramatic contrast from back home, where for the vast majority of Americans, Yom Kippur is just another day of business as usual.  It was a special feeling to wander the streets - and it gave us a strong sense of our Jewish identity. 

It was also fascinating on Yom Kippur to wander in and out of the various synagogues in our neighborhood - though I must admit it was quite difficult to follow the Mizrahi services (Mizrahi Jews are descended from the Middle East and North Africa, in contrast with Ashkenazi Jews like me and Eden, who are descended from Central and Eastern Europe).  What's particularly striking is that it seems there are more synagogues within a five-block radius of our apartment than there are in all of San Francisco, Oakland and Berkeley combined.  Within a stone's throw is one large synagogue (pictured left and immediately below) and a host of smaller ones - including, we're told, those built for congregations descended from Europe, Iraq, Yemen, and Afghanistan (if you don't believe me on Afghanistan, see the plaque below).  All the different synagogues bring to mind the old joke about a sole Jewish man stranded on a remote island who builds two synagogues - one for him, and one that he refuses to go to.  But in all seriousness, it was a bittersweet feeling - it felt good to be connected to Jews from so many different, faraway places, but it was sad to think that many descended from places where Jews had lived for centuries but cannot today.  Our Yom Kippur experience gave us a deeper understanding of what it means to be Jewish and to be in Israel as Jews. 

 

To prepare for Sukkot, we decided to take a walk in B'nei Brak, an Orthodox community close to our neighborhood in Ramat Gan, in the hours before the holiday started.  The streets were packed with people frenetically buying provisions, most importantly the four key ingredients of Sukkot:  the etrog (a citrus fruit that looks like a wrinkled lemon); the lulav (date palm branch); the hadas (myrtle branch); and the aravah (willow branch).  (The four ingredients are bound together and then waved in prayer, symbolizing the unity of the Jewish people).  The number of shops, stalls and street vendors selling items for Sukkot was staggering.  It was a fascinating experience, vastly different from anything we've seen in the States.  As illustrated by some of the photographs below, some people are very particular about their Sukkot accoutrements.  

Lulavs for sale

It's important to inspect the etrog carefully before buying it

Looking for just the right myrtle branch

 

During Sukkot, I helped our friend Ben Ami put up his sukkah (a temporary shelter that is meant to symbolize the time the Israelites spent wandering in the desert and also to celebrate the harvest).  Another fun outing was "sukkah spotting" in the neighborhood with our friend Yossie (pictured below).  Here are some of our favorite sukkah shots: 

But our favorite Sukkot experience was spending a day at Kibbutz Gezer with a warm and engaging family, David and Miri and their three grown children (one of whom is now settling in for college in California). David and Miri moved to Israel from the United States nearly 40 years ago and were among the first members who built the kibbutz.  The meal was delicious and the conversation about politics, religion, and kibbutz life was very enlightening and went on for hours.  And what a small world it is!  David, who has been involved in Jewish education and fundraising for decades, once taught at Temple Isaiah in Lafayette (which shares facilities with Jeremy's school, Contra Costa Jewish Day School), and he knew many of the people who are active in Jewish organizations in the Bay Area.  We'd traveled halfway around the world, but in some ways it was like having lunch with friends in California.

The evening concluded with a Sukkot dinner and celebration, including Israeli folk dancing, at a Catholic monastery near the kibbutz.  That's right, a monastery.  Over the years, the monastery and kibbutz have developed a very close friendship, and the monastery celebrates this friendship, and its connection with Israel, with a big Sukkot party every year where people of different faiths and backgrounds eat and dance together.  At least on this night, Sukkot wasn't just about celebrating the unity of Jews, but also the unity of people. 

Israeli folk dancing at a monastery

Spending the Jewish holidays in Israel was an edifying and exciting experience.  We made new friends and gained a new perspective.  But we also felt connected to our past experiences.  And, when we return from our year-long journey, we've promised the kids we'll build a sukkah wherever we are.