Tzfat

I spent this past weekend in Tzfat, one of the four holy cities (the others being Jerusalem, Hebron, and Tiberias). I was there once before, in high school, and I remembered it being beautiful. As someone who goes to Friday night services pretty regularly, I love thinking about the fact that this is where Lecha Dodi was written, and really Kabbalat Shabbat as a whole was formed. The city has a lot of spiritual meaning.

The trip started out on Thursday by discovering that the 982 bus to Tzfat doesn’t actually leave from the Central Bus Station, even though that’s where you buy your tickets. Also, the big “23” on the ticket dosen’t mean “gate 23” but rather a zone. So… Lynley and I missed our bus and had to wait two and a half hours for the next one. Yay. At least I finally got to check out the mall that’s in the Cental Bus Station, and obtained something that you’ll probably only find in Israel—haggadot in a dollar store.

We finally made it to Tzfat around 7pm after a three and a half hour bus ride up and down and around lots of mountains. (It’s Israel.) Guidebooks tend to only spend a page on Tzfat as part of the section on the Galilee, so we got off the bus and had to wander around until we found a sign for our hostel, Ascent. “Go up the stairs and follow the map,” it said—what map? There was no map! Thankfully I remembered that someone at the office had called my phone to confirm our reservation, so the number was in my phone and I was able to call them for directions.

The thing about Tzfat is… even with a map, you get lost. It’s one of those places that maps can’t really handle, like the Old City of Jerusalem. For example, this:

That’s a road. There’s no signs and no stores or houses on it to indicate that it’s a road, no street numbers, but it’s very definitely marked on the map as Ma’alot Olei HaCardom. Such is Tzfat.

The first place we tried to go for dinner, Café Bagdad, kicked us out saying that they were only serving coffee, even though they were open for another half hour. (This was 8:30pm.) So we went to the next place the people at Ascent recommended, Café Milano. There we discovered that even though Tzfat is mainly known for kabbalah and art, there’s actually another piece to it: cheese. According to the faulty map there was entirely a whole cheese museum! (In actuality, no such place exists.) Anyway, this meant that there were a lot of cheese dishes at Café Milano. Lynley ended up getting something called “halumi salad,” which was actually pasta in teriyaki sauce with cashews, bell peppers, and halumi cheese. I got a cheese platter with roasted vegetables. Lynley very much got the better deal; her halumi salad was amazing. (I know cause I got to try some.) Take a look:

My cheese platter was okay. I really liked the labane, but of the other two cheeses one was okay and the other I didn’t really like. The veggies were also okay, not wonderful. But Lynley’s halumi salad… wow! Amazing. Just amazing.

After dinner we headed back to Ascent and went to bed. Then on Friday we woke up early and went to explore Tzfat before everything closed for Shabbat. Our first stop was Safed Candle Factory, where they really make art out of candles. Like, for example, the Temple:

or a whole bunch of penguins:

There was also one of David and Goliath and one of Samson tearing down the Philistine temple, but I wasn’t so interested in those. While we were there we also eavesdropped on a tour guide teaching a family a bit about how regular havdallah candles are made, basically by dipping string into melted wax multiple times and then weaving the tapers together while they’re still hot. It’s pretty cool. I actually spent as much money at the candle factory as I did for two nights at Ascent, which either says something about how cheap Ascent is or how impressive the candle factory is. Maybe both. And no, I did not buy a penguin—their faces were too weird.

From the candle factory we poked our heads into the Ari Synagogue (looks like a normal Orthodox synagogue, minus the women’s section) and proceeded to a street lined entirely with galleries of more conventional art—paintings, jewelry, and Judaica. There were some really beautiful things there, all of it expensive. There was even one shop where we got to watch weavers at work, which was really cool although I don’t understand why anyone would spend more than $100 on a really plain-looking matzah cover.

And of course we had to go find the cheese. There are signs all over the place saying “Tzfat cheese à” or “holy Tzfat cheese à” all of which led to another and then yet another sign. Reaching the cheese factory is like going thorough a maze, literally. When we get there it was just a little place—a table covered with different cheeses, a few tables for sitting down, and a room with vats in it that are used to make the cheese. Unfortunately we didn’t get to find out how cheese is made (we’d have to come back on Sunday for that, except that we were leaving Tzfat on Saturday night), but we did get to try every single one of his cheeses. They weren’t expensive, either; I got small pieces of feta and the special Tzfat cheese for only $10. That plus the four rugalach I’d brought from Jerusalem were more than enough for lunch.

Cheese:

So Friday was good. Shabbat… not so much. It’s odd because when I said I wanted to spend a Shabbat in Tzfat, I was warned that Ascent was really, really Orthodox—which is true. However, I’ve spent Shabbat with the Orthodox before, and as long as I know I’m there for Shabbat and not for a long period of time, I even sorta enjoy parts of it. Organizations that reach out to non-Orthodox students tend to be really concerned about how you’re doing and completely willing to talk to you about Orthodoxy. They have this kind of excitement to them. The people at Ascent… didn’t really. There was a shiur before Shabbat, but it didn’t really go anywhere. After that was supposed to be “Candlelighting and orientation,” but in reality it was just lighting on our own and sitting around until time to go to services. Dinner wasn’t with families in Tzfat, as it usually is at Ascent, but all together in a room in the hostel with not so wonderful food. Saturday was more of the same, if not worse; downtime until lunch unless you got up in time to go to 8am services at a synagogue of your choosing, a meal in which there was no vegetarian option (brisket and potatoes that were cooked together with the brisket), more down time until 4:45, an hour-long tour of Tzfat, and then more down time until dinner and even more downtime until havdallah!

Honestly, if I wanted to stay in my room and read and eat crappy found, I could have stayed in Jerusalem. I wasn’t too pleased with Ascent Shabbat. Usually they pay attention to us. Usually there’s singing and words of Torah and decent food when Orthodox organizations try to draw people in (and presumably the rest of the year, too), and that’s what I was expecting. That’s what I paid for. I feel like it would have been different if we’d gone to families for meals, but the website made no mention of the fact that Shabbat HaGadol isn’t a Shabbat where we get hosted. If it had, we probably would have come another weekend.

It all just seems very odd to me. They asked us twice if we were vegetarian—once on the registration form, and once when they called to confirm our registration. There was at least one other girl in our boat, too. If you know more than 48 hours in advance that 3 out of your 10 English-speaking guests are vegetarians, how in the world do you justify ignoring it? Apparently they expected us to just eat the salads, with no warning that we wouldn’t be able to eat the main dish. Thank you very much for your consideration. I really appreciate it.

I think, in the end, I’m still glad I went to Tzfat for Shabbat. As much of a let-down as it was, as much as it was so not worth the 200NIS we paid for it, if I hadn’t done it I would have wished I had. I would have just continued to have this fantasy of Shabbat in Tzfat and regretted never experiencing it. And there were some good parts to it. I discovered that while no one drives on Yom Kippur, the Shabbat of Shabbats, in Jerusalem, no one drives on Shabbat in Tzfat, period. Not a car moving that I could see, at least not on HaAri Street or Jerusalem Street, the only two streets we walked on where cars can actually go. I also discovered that there are basically no cats it Tzfat. The entire time we were there, we only saw two—as opposed to the rest of Israel, where they’re everywhere. These things are interesting to me. They’re unique, the same way the history is unique. I just wish all of Shabbat was like that.

Architecture mixed with a bit of politics

Today marked my architecture class's second trip to the Old City, and the last trip for a while. For the most part it was nothing remarkable--just a tour through a Herodian mansion and a visit to the Southern Wall of the Temple Mount. However, current events dictated that we must try to take a look at the newly rebuilt Hurva Synagogue, which we did.

Long story short: the Hurva Synagogue was originally built in the 1860s and was destroyed twice. In 2002 the Israeli government decided to rebuild the synagogue, and it was rededicated last Monday night. This was part of what lead to the "Day of Rage" riots among the Palestinians last Tuesday. The New York Times explains why they're so upset:

The synagogue’s new white dome blends in with the city’s ancient monuments holy to Christians, Muslims and Jews. Because of the topography, seen from certain points around the city, it rises above the Islamic shrines of the compound revered by Muslims as the Noble Sanctuary, and by Jews as the Temple Mount, including Al Aksa Mosque.

In Damascus, Khaled Meshal, the exiled leader of the Islamic militant group Hamas, said the synagogue’s dedication signified “the destruction of the Al Aksa Mosque and the building of the temple,” according to Agence France-Presse.

Okay, so that sounds a little bit drastic. Really, the rebuilding of one synagogue is going to lead to the destruction of the Temple Mount as we know it? However, take a look at this (also mentioned by Ha'arez):

According to a centuries-old rabbinical prophecy that appears to be coming true, on March 16, 2010, Israel will begin construction of the Third Temple in Jerusalem. During the 18th century, the Vilna Gaon, a respected rabbinical authority, prophesied that the Hurva Synagogue in Jerusalem, which was built during his day, would be destroyed and rebuilt twice, and that when the Hurva was completed for the third time, construction on the Third Temple would begin.

And the Third Temple will logically be built on the Temple Mount, and thus Al-Aksa Mosque will be destroyed... it makes sense. Except for the whole "we're going to build the Third Temple now!" part. I don't see the moshiach anywhere; do you? Besides--according to Ahuva's recent sermon, we weren't meant to resume the whole animal sacrifice thing anyway.

Anyway! The brand-new rebuilt synagogue is entirely locked, but we got to go in and see it anyway. See, our teacher is Israeli, and Israelis are pushy and tend to get their way when they're only up against a couple of custodians who answered a classmate's very insistent knock at the door. The synagogue is beautiful. Take a look:

The outside photo is not mine because silly me expected to be able to find a recent photograph online, but apparently not. They're being very secretive about this place, probably because of all the riots and such. But really--how hard is it to take a picture of the outside?

I don't know what to think about the controversy surrounding this synagogue. Sometimes it seems like people--Palestinians and (particularly haredi) Israelis--will riot over just about anything, given the chance. It's not like we're in a position to build the Third Temple, no matter what the Vilna Gaon said all those years ago. Yet--the fact that the dome rises above everything else does make a certain political statement. I read it somewhere--"We're here to stay," it says. The Israelis are here to stay, in the heart of the Old City, in the heart of East Jerusalem, in the heart of Eretz Yisrael... can you blame them for being upset?

Israeli basketball

Basketball is definitely not soccer. I mean, I know it's not, but in terms of Israeli sports--there's a big difference between a Beitar Jerusalem game and a HaPoel Migdal Jerusalem game, which is what one of our madrichim from Rothberg took us to tonight. Thank goodness there was no racism, but there were also no organized cheers whatsoever. There were also plenty of seats left, and very few people standing--though I was told that part of that was the fact that it was a Saturday night game and a lot of Jerusalem's fans are religious. Anyway, the game in videos:

Hatikvah, lots of insane basketballs flying everwhere, and a view of the crowd:

Ramat Gan's team doing well at the beginning of the game:

And a video of Jerusalem doing well, because that is my city for the year, after all:

Ramat Gan only did well in the beginning; by the second quarter Jerusalem was creaming them and I lost all of my attention span. Really, sports games need to be close to be interesting. It's no fun when Jerusalem wins 107 to 68, with the margin only growing over the course of the game.

Oh well. At least we won?

Police make all the difference

Police make all the difference in the world. Remember my first trip to Women of the Wall? It was pretty miserable, both due to the rain and due to the haredim's hatred. There were police around, but we didn't feel guarded; this was just a month after Nofrat Frankel was arrested. The next month the police made a barrier between us and the haredi women and it went better, though one woman was hit by a haredi. This month--G-d. What a difference.

The assault from the men's side was totally unexpected. They did not wait for us to start davening, but instead threw a bunch of chairs over the mechitza while we were still gathering, even breaking a leg off one of them. It wasn't even 7am, and the police hadn't arrived yet. Lots of chairs (and a video starting in the middle of it):

Notice how the women attempt to make light of it. This is how you have to think at Women of the Wall--ironic comments are about all we can do.

Needless to say, I thought that the early chair throwing was an indication of a very bad morning ahead. It's not exactly a good sign. However, the men eventually stopped throwing chairs and the police came over to ask what happened and help clean up the chairs. Someone also said that they arrested the chair-thrower, which was the first good sign of the day. (According to YNet, they arrested two chair-throwers even!)

Once we started davening, the police formed a wall between us and the haredim. Surprisingly, the haredi women didn't bother us this time--one woman muttered about how the moshiach was never going to come this way when she walked past us, but that was it. The men were also surprisingly subdued. There was a little bit of shouting, but that didn't last. They mostly walked/danced around in a circle singing, supposedly drowning us out in their ears. For the first time ever I could hear every word the service leader said; the sounds from the men's side didn't overpower us at all us. Oh--and Mr. Recite Hallel at Us was back today, too. That was sorta weird--it almost seemed as if he was supporting us, except we knew better. (He was screaming "gevalt" last month.)

At the end of Hallel we were actually able to dance around in a circle ourselves, which one of the women said had never happened before. No videos of that because I was participating, but I think this is proof of what police--and overseas--support can do. When the chair-thrower was arrested I think it really changed the dynamics. The haredim no longer had the upper hand, and there were consequences to their hatred. They were in the position that we were in back in December, and even more so probably November. And why were the police guarding us? I think that has something to do with overseas--particularly North American--support for Women of the Wall. I mean, politics make my head spin, but when 29 Canadian rabbis send a letter to their Israeli ambassador supporting Women of the Wall and there is enough American support that the ambassador to the United States made a statement about the issue, that's gotta mean something, right? If nothing else, it'd probably make Israel look pretty bad if/when something bad happened to the Women of the Wall while they were davening, assuming they were following the law (not reading from the Torah and not wearing talitot). Why else would the police go from arresting Nofrat Frenkel to protecting us from the haredim, if not for international pressure?

I have to say, I will be perfectly happy if the Haredi men keep drowning us out by singing and dancing and reciting Hallel at us. These are all things that belong at the Kotel. Screaming insults and throwing chairs--those do not. What are the chances that they'll find this solution satisfactory, or that next month will be even slightly like this month? One thing I've learned over the past three months is that the reaction to our davening is unpredictable. Totally and completely unpredictable.

We went from our peaceful davening at the Kotel to an even more peaceful Torah reading with rotating Torah readers, including Devora, a fellow Rothberg student. Notice how you can hear the birds singing. Isn't that a nice end to it all?

A trip to the City of David

An update about the start of the new semester and my class schedule will come soon; we're three weeks into the semester and my schedule just got finalized today. However, this semester promises many more class-sponsored tourism than I got last semester due to one class: Jerusalem's Architectural History. We had our first field trip today, a visit to the City of David. Possible little known fact: the Old City of Jerusalem today is nowhere near on the same land as the Really Old City of Jerusalem, aka the city that King David built. The only overlap is really the Temple Mount--everything else is outside the current walls.

Another possibly little known fact: Jerusalem architecture is ugly. There's this way of building one house on top of another because that's how you build on the side of a mountain--okay, I get that. But why does everything have to be so blocky? It's just ugly, and it's all over Israel. Really, why? The below photo is of Sirwan, an Arab neighborhood across the valley from the City of David, but it's just one example.

These particular houses obviously weren't there in biblical times, but they were still built one on top of the other--thus how King David saw Batsheva bathing. However, what was there was Warren's Shaft, (probably) the passage through which David and Yoav originally invaded Jeursalem back when it was a Canaanite city. We got to go down there:

Of course, the metal stairs weren't there originally, but it was still pretty cool. We also went through Hezekiah's Tunnel, which involved lots of water and a soaking wet skirt. I couldn't take video in there because I needed my batteries for my flashlight, but I stole someone else's video off Youtube:

This class includes four field trips like this. Today was First Temple Period Jerusalem, next week is Second Temple Period, and in the future we have post-Christianity and Islam Jerusalem and Modern Jerusalem. Pretty cool. Hopefully by the end of the semester things will stop looking like one piece of Jerusalem stone after another... which is really all I can tell of Jerusalem right now.

Purim x2

Israel is one of only two places in the world where you can celebrate Purim, drive to another city, and then find that it's (Shushan) Purim all over again the next day. While this is an interesting phenomenon, it's one that I hadn't intended on taking part of. Purim is not my favorite holiday ever - there's too much partying and drinking and too little meaning. Still, when I mentioned to my friend Ri that it would technically be possible for me to get from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv for Saturday night's megillah reading at the Gay Center and she offered to let me stay over for the night, I figured I might as well. It's not like I'm going to get this chance ever again.

The evening at the gay center began with a havdallah that wasn't so impressive, though it did allow me time to scan the room with my camera. Havdallah's usually my favorite Shabbat service, but it wasn't like anyone was joining in with the singing, and the leaders botched the words enough to make me wonder whether they normally do this or not. It's also the first time I had ever seen havdallah done without dimming the lights.

The megillah reading was your typical megillah reading. Lots of people in costumes, lots of noise whenever Haman's name was said. I was actually really surprised at one point when a cowboy went up to read and I recognized "his" voice--it was Nofrat Frenkel from Women of the Wall. My camera failed me on that reading, though, so I have to leave you with the reading of a sailor and a cute mother/daughter pair instead.

After the megillah reading most people left for other parties around the city, but a few stayed for dancing at the gay center. I stood or sat against the wall the whole time, but it was still pretty entertaining to watch. I really like the fact that alcohol wasn't the center, which is usually the problem with Purim since it's supposedly a mitzvah to drink until you can't tell the difference between Mordechai and Haman. There was one girl walking around with a bottle of something, but that was about it. It was mostly dancing--again, a bad camera time. There were some really cute moments, like a Haradi woman dancing with a gay guy dressed up like a fairy and a woman in a lion suit dancing with a little girl dressed up like snow white. Unfortunately, all I caught on camera was the normal dancing stuff, none of the really good moments.

We got back to Ri's house around 1am on Saturday night, slept in until noon, and then headed off to the bus and train stations and back to Jerusalem for Purim Part II. We had planned to go to a megillah reading and possibly to another gay Purim party at HaKatze, but we didn't end up getting back to the Kfar until 8pm and we decided to just stay in and make some hamentashen dough. This morning, however, was a totally different story as we went to the Kotel for the Women of the Wall's megillah reading.

This was the first time I have ever heard a delayed reaction when it comes to drowning out Haman's name. People are usually jumping at it - I'm used to megillah readings where the reader says "ha" and someone starts making noise, whether or not that word is actually supposed to be Haman. This is the first time I've ever seen the reader pause without being forced into the pause by the overwhelming noise, and the noise lasted significantly less time than, say, at the gay center megillah reading.

What's even stranger than Haman, though, is the fact that the Women of the Wall megillah reading went without a hitch. There were about a million people at the Kotel, on both sides of the mechitza, and there was a bar mitzvah going on on the men's side. Yet, we were completely ignored by everyone. I don't understand; if the problem with women praying out loud is a problem of kol isha, why doesn't apply to megillah reading? If it isn't a problem with kol isha, what is the problem? Why can't they just leave us alone? I should be thankful that no one screamed at us this time (though I confess I was was sorta looking forward to chalking it down to an over-enthusiastic drowning out of Haman's name), but it's left me more confused than anything. Politics. Religious politics.

Aaaaaaand--Purim is not yet over. When Ri gets back from her seuda we're going to finish making hamentashen and then hopefully head off to the drag show at HaKatze. Perhaps I will test out my new camera there, since the old one completely failed at the drag show last time.