I am writing these words while sitting in Cafe Efraim on Arlozorov St. in the Rehavia neighborhood of Jerusalem. Perhaps you've been here. It's a small cafe, one of many, in this iconic neighborhood. Like many of the other cafes there's an Israeli flag in the window and a sign on the front door that says "Bring Them Home Now."
I was introduced to Cafe Efraim earlier this week when my friend, Yishay Shavit, suggested we meet here for a morning coffee. 10 years ago I wouldn't have referred to Yishay as my friend. I would have referred to him as Yishay Shavit, our Israel Tour Educator. But 10 years later, he's definitely my friend, a fact for which I am most grateful.
In addition to introducing me to Cafe Efraim, Yishay introduced me to Efraim himself. Now Efraim and I are on a first name basis. Sometimes people use the acronym TII to describe what I'm describing in this (perhaps too long) message. TII means "This is Israel."
Twenty years ago Rabbi Loren Filson Lapidus and I joined with our Hebrew Union College classmates to begin our rabbinical studies here in Jerusalem. Back then neither of us were rabbis and she was "just" Ms. Loren Filson. At some point during that year we each bought a set of Tefillin. In those ancient days there was only one scribe (person who is trained in Hebrew calligraphy) who would sell this ritual item to a woman. So naturally, we gave him our business. And, as often happens in life, we haven't thought of him since.
Last night (Thursday evening) I sat next to that scribe as he wrote a letter in a Torah scroll in honor of one of the 120 hostages still being held in captivity in Gaza. He had been commissioned by the family of Hersch Goldberg Polin to write a Torah Scroll in honor of Hersh and the other hostages. Last night Hersh's parents and community gathered to witness the completion of the Torah Scroll as well as to dedicate the Torah Scroll to their Modern Orthodox synagogue. Coincidentally, the letter I witnessed being written in the scroll was the letter mem, the first letter of my Hebrew name. I also had a chance to express love and solidarity to Hersh's parents on behalf of our Davis Academy community.
I think it's fair to say that twenty years ago neither I, nor the scribe, nor Jonathan and Rachel Goldberg Polin (then parents of a 3 year old Hersh), nor any of the thousands of people who joined in the Torah dedication, nor anyone reading this message could have predicted that last night, July 18, 2024, such a gathering would take place. Twenty years ago the Modern Orthodox synagogue where the Torah will make its home-- that synagogue didn't exist. As an aside, I wouldn't have known about the Torah dedication were it not for a good friend, Lori Binder, the Head of School of the Gray Academy in Winnipeg, who told me about it and joined me there. I met Lori during a professional development program ten years ago and had no idea she and I would be at the same seminar here in Jerusalem this week.
Similarly, I didn't know I'd be spending the week with Lori, or with hundreds of other friends and colleagues, new and longstanding (I don't like calling them "old"). For example, I didn't know I'd run into Rabbi Eli Herscher, who officiated my Bar Mitzvah a little more than 30 years ago. But TII.
For too many people, Jerusalem (and Israel) evoke only images of violence and conflict as well as feelings of fear and despair. Yet for me, and I know for many of you, Jerusalem feels like home.
Jerusalem feels like home to me for so many reasons. For starters, I've lived here. I've paid rent, phone bills, utilities. I met my wife here. I have friends here. Favorite restaurants, neighborhoods, bookstores. I've had life changing experiences here and have profound and deeply important memories that come from here. There are parts of my story that would not exist were it not for Jerusalem, and there are memories, experiences, insights, and songs that come alive for me only when I am here. Jerusalem has bestowed countless gifts upon me. And my eyes well with tears of gratitude as I acknowledge this to myself and write these words to you. Here in Cafe Efraim.
During my 16 years as Davis Academy rabbi I have had the sacred privilege of bringing more than 1,000 Davis Academy students to Jerusalem, my home. And I cannot articulate what it means to me to know that so many of them have also come to think of Jerusalem as home. These Davis Academy students know what it feels like to walk the streets of Jerusalem, to touch, taste, smell, hear, and see Jerusalem. They have memories of Jerusalem. They have laughed here, cried here, danced here, asked big questions here, bought far too many bars of chocolate here and so much more. There are parts of their souls that came alive for the first time here in Jerusalem. There are parts of their souls that may only come alive in Jerusalem.
Israel is a country of tensions. On the one hand Israel can only be understood when viewed through the lens of millennia. The story of Israel is an epic story, spanning thousands of years. Abraham and Sarah, King David, Rabbi Akiba, Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, Muslims, Ottomans, British, Theodor Herzl, David Ben Gurion... the list goes on. To try and understand Israel without taking this vast perspective is a fool's errand. On the other hand, understanding and living in Israel requires being fully in the here and now. You really have to pay attention each and every moment. During my small talk with Efraim this morning I said, "Hopefully this will be a Shabbat full of good news." He replied by informing me that this morning a small barrage of drones and rockets had been fired toward Tel Aviv from Yemen and that sadly someone had been killed in that attack. I was saddened, but also felt chastised. Something had happened to our people, to our home, to this place that I love, and I was several hours late in knowing it. For those of us that love Israel from afar, let us all have compassion and respect for those who live here. We may check our news feed a few times a day, yet their phones are constantly buzzing with alerts of all kinds. There are no breaks from the news, no respites, no pauses. The fact that so many Israelis greet each day with a smile, a positive attitude, and a heart full of hope--- I can think of no greater demonstration of resilience and strength imaginable. And for those that despair, weep, and fear-- I can think of no greater expression of love and heartbreak.
In spite of everything that is going on here in Israel, the Israel that I have come back to this summer is an Israel that is vibrant and alive. Every inch of this country is covered with reminders of the hostages. There is tremendous anger, fear, and stress here. There are multiple protests in every major town and city on a weekly basis. One friend who is a frequent protest attendee describes it as akin to having a second job. Meanwhile, the streets are full, the busses are running, the cafes are open, and life is happening. Having said that, there are no tourists here. I'm not a tourist and neither are the 250 rabbis and Jewish professionals who are joining me at the Shalom Hartman Institute for our weeks of learning. We haven't come to visit. We've come home, to the one place where they have to let you in.
Tonight is Shabbat. I'll be spending my Shabbat away from my family and away from my home in Atlanta. Instead, I'll be spending Shabbat with my family and here at home in Jerusalem. It is not my first Shabbat here, and it won't be my last. Wherever we find ourselves for Shabbat, I hope we will take a moment to count our blessings. Our blessings of home, of family, of love, of strength, of resilience, of heartbreak, of being a part of this most epic of stories, being written even as we speak, the story of Israel and the story of the Jewish people.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Micah
Here are some pictures that might bring Jerusalem to life...
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| Writing a song at the airport with my friend and beloved Israeli musician, Eliad Eliyahu. |
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| An art exhibit in Jerusalem. |
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| Reminders of the hostages are everywhere. |
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| Memorial stickers for fallen soldiers including Dekel Suisa, former Shinshin who served in ATL. |
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| The sharpie edit on this poster broke my heart. |
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| In addition to photos there are many artistic depictions of the hostages. |
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| Outside the prime minister's residence. |
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| Outside the prime minister's residence. |
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| The courtyard at Shalom Hartman Institute, many frank and hopeful conversations happening here. |
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| A woman writes the # of days of captivity (286) on masking tape at the Hersh Goldberg Polin Torah dedication. Since 10/7 masking tape has become a Jewish ritual object. |
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Marching the Torah down the street.
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| Hersh's parents. |
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| A young man sets up his weekly flower shop for Shabbat. |
