As you likely know, our much anticipated direct flight to Israel encountered some unexpected pre-departure "turbulence" in the form of mechanical issues. Said issues can be summarized as follows: we boarded, it was hot, it was hotter, we deplaned, we hung out and ate Delta snacks, we boarded again, and 11 swift and painless hours later we landed in Israel. Direct flight for the win! The flight was uneventfully chill and we were so travel weary that the student led rendition of Am Yisrael Chai slated for our landing didn't quite materialize. Best not to force such things. Actually, best not to force most things.
After meeting our guides and before boarding the busses in the newly (and inconveniently) reconfigured Ben Gurion Airport, a few of our participants, inspired by some parental reflections at our departure ceremony, decided to fulfill their newly acquired life long dream of literally kissing the ground. You've surely seen the pictures by now including the award winning picture of me taking a picture of the kids kissing the ground. You can't say we didn't try! Though this blog is a labor of love, I understand that a picture (especially from Israel) is certainly worth at least a thousand words.
Modeling the unofficial yet ever present 6th Davis Menschlichkeit Value of "flexibility" we relocated our Welcome to Israel l'chayim to a small courtyard in a quiet neighborhood adjacent to the bustling Mahane Yehuda marketplace (shuk). Standing beneath a Mulberry tree that was literally dropping perfectly ripe fruit on our groggy heads, we said shehecheyanu, sipped a bit of grape juice, sampled the berries (after confirming what they were), and received instructions for our first yamishuk (free choice meal voucher system).
Though somewhat discombobulated, we all managed to navigate the wonderful chaos of the cacophanous shuk. Thankfully, overly wrought phrases like "wonderful chaos of the cacophonous" can be summarized in Hebrew's most elegant word, always evident in Israel: balagan. The shuk is always a balagan, and even more so on Thursday afternoon and Friday. That's what makes it such a perfect introduction to Israel. Consider the following-- eager and at the ready, many of our boys wrapped Tefillin at a small stand located between a fishmonger and a "clothing" store prominently featuring boxer shorts emblazoned with the unfortunate yet memorable slogan: "I'm Jewish, you can check." Add a saxophone player, a group of punk/ goth kids blasting death metal, more than a couple of folks asking for Tzedakah to feed their families, a handful of Judaica and houseware shops, and pretty much every fruit, baked good, and prepared culinary item imaginable and you've got the shuk. Every single step in the shuk brings a different sight, sound, smell, and experience. And you can never be completely sure what you just stepped in. It's probably the perfect venue for working through one's jet lag and a wonderful microcosm of Israel (and Jerusalem in particular).
From the shuk we visited a local chef (formerly a chef at the King David Hotel) who now offers cooking workshops. We were happy to be seated at long (immaculately clean and very un-shuk-like) stainless steel tables where we had a chance to don varsity style paper hats, roll out challah, watch a tahini preparation while it baked, and then dip our fresh loaves into the unctuous (never used that word in an Israel blog before) tahini. As delicious as it was, it was not as delicious as checking into the hotel, showering, and heading to our first dinner buffet where we quickly learned that only a small majority of our students had already locked themselves out of their rooms (they've otherwise been supremely responsible). You may be full just from reading this blog. If so, imagine how we feel now. Full, freshly showered, and ready to pass out (italics for emphasis).
I called this post Jewish Standard Time because JST is a familiar concept to most/ all of us. Usually, JST is a kind of throwaway term. We blame JST when a friend is predictably 15 minutes late. Without being too heavy handed, I'd say JST in its colloquial use is borderline offensive. Maybe not. As an alternative to the snarky use of JST, I think there's another (better) way of thinking about JST. Jewish Standard Time points to the fact that Jews and the Jewish community have our own unique and special relationship to time. If we let it, Jewish Standard Time can become an organizing principle in our lives, as it is for many Jews and as it is for the State of Israel. Prayers are recited daily and at specific times. The Torah is overflowing with descriptions of holy days and commandments that need to be performed at specific times and seasons. The list goes on. Here are some ways that I think we've experienced JST since hugging y'all goodbye yesterday.
- Our flight was 3 hours delayed, yet somehow "right on time."
- The shuk was pulsing with the palpable energy of the rapidly approaching Shabbat, a weekly cadence.
- We entered Jerusalem, a city where you can talk about 2,500 BCE in the same breath as you talk about 2023.
- A few hours with friends felt like a lifetime.
- We ate 3 meals in 5 hours.
- We ran into two Davis Academy alumni, neither of which we've seen in years, and yet it felt like it was just yesterday that they were children in our care.
- the children who just yesterday looked up at the big kids in the Lower School gym today kissed the ground of the land they've always known was home without ever truly understanding what that might mean.
- And tomorrow we wake up at 5:30 AM to hike a mountain to encounter a 2,100 year old chapter of our people's long and ever-unfolding sacred story.
No comments:
Post a Comment