If I forget thee, O Jerusalem
I ended a 2018 column about my first trip to Israel after a 10-year hiatus (“Micro and Macro of Israel Visit”) by noting “I’ll be back, please God, and much sooner than before.” While I was right, it wasn’t by much, as my wife, Sharon, and I, accompanied by Sharon’s sister Andrea, just returned from our first visit since then. Of course, the delay wasn’t all our fault; you might recall a pesky virus engulfing the world as well as a war engulfing the region.
Family was both the impetus and the heart of the trip. Some aspects were joyous: a wedding of a great-niece followed a few days later by sheva brachot; a chanukat ha-bayit (Jewish house-warming party) for my brother-in-law Jordan’s new apartment (where he graciously hosted us for two weeks), with panoramic views of Emek HaMatzleva, the Knesset, the Israel Museum, and large swaths of Jerusalem; many dinners with family members we do not see often enough; and a day spent with cousins who took us to a new museum at the Khan Sha’ar Hagai National Heritage Site (also known as Bab el-Wad) followed by lunch. The round trip was in a Tesla, which, despite my intense dislike of the company’s owner (that will be the only semi-political comment in this column), made the day even more pleasurable. And a special shout-out and thank you to our niece Talya, who took care of many logistical matters with her always loving “no problem” answer to our every request.
Other aspects were less joyous: a day and a half spent visiting cemeteries of relatives who died too young, some by illness (including a 21-year-old great-niece whom we had hoped to see, though we were relegated to watching her funeral on Zoom shortly before our trip), and others who were victims of terrorism and this horrible war; and spending time being mevaker choleh (visiting the ill) of, again, relatives we do not see often enough.
There also was time for non-family visits. In my never-ending quest to meet virtual friends IRL, I spent some time in the law office of Daniel, with whom I’ve been jousting on Facebook for a few years, followed by lunch at Tzidkiyahu. We’ll continue to joust, I’m sure, but a bit differently now that we’ve met. And our lunch was so delicious that Sharon and I went on a date (just the two of us!) the next week, beginning at Roladin for a late morning nosh of divine donuts and pastries, followed by shopping at the nearby Emanuel outlet, and culminating with a late lunch at, yup, Tzidkiyahu.
I could probably spend the rest of this column on Jerusalem restaurants, but I won’t except to note two things. First, some were gracious and welcoming (Piccolino heading the list in that category, with delicious food as well), and others, well, less so. And second, it’s simply inconceivable that a start-up nation’s fancy restaurants are incapable of giving each couple a separate bill. Having to pull out my calculator and jot down numbers on a napkin to figure out my portion of the table’s mid three-figure (in dollars) bill did not leave me with fond memories of the meal.
In addition to new friends, there were also friends from longer ago. Serendipitously, a retired New York judge with whom both Sharon and I were friendly in Yavneh (an Orthodox college organization) lives in Jordan’s building. We had lost touch but were now able to relive some of those days gone by. And we also saw Esther, Donna, David & Mindy, and Barry & Debby, dear and close friends of four, five, and six decades, with whom we’ve never lost touch and who feel, in many ways, like family. Wonderful visits, though much too short.
Family, food, friends — and shopping. I diligently searched for kippot serugot (crocheted) with a dugma (design) like the ones those girlfriends made for their boyfriends in my high school and college days. Although I was told that they don’t exist any longer, I finally hit the jackpot at Ann’s Kippot on Ben Yehuda, and bought a few on the spot as well as several made to order, which were ready the next week. Sharon played her part too (with gifts for others), and as our very tiny contribution to Israel’s economy in these difficult times, we not only spent too much but also didn’t haggle and paid whatever merchants asked. When one or two offered a discount, though, we graciously accepted so as not to insult them.
We also acted like the tourists we were and booked a visit to the new National Library of Israel, one of the hottest tickets in town. While our guide could have been better (yes, Naomi Shemer was a singer in addition to a songwriter), the library itself is a technological wonder and an architectural masterpiece, warm and welcoming to scholars and visitors alike, as is appropriate for the nation known as the People of the Book. We also went on a relatively new tunnel tour at the Kotel (the Great Bridge Route) with a wonderful guide who — only in Israel — ended the tour with a short dvar Torah. And at an exhibit at Beit Avi Chai we learned about the life and varied and vibrant art of Pinchas Livinovsky, an Israeli painter we were not familiar with.
My effort to shed my tourist cloak by taking buses (and the light rail) almost everywhere was relatively successful, thanks to both the Rav Kav and, equally indispensable, Google Maps. (While buying the card at the airport, I asked the seller, Gidon, whether I was eligible for a senior discount. “Only to citizens,” he answered, followed by a pitch for me to make aliyah — only 10 minutes after we cleared customs!). I chatted with people waiting for buses (“flag them down or they’ll drive by even if you’re at the stop,” I was told) and on the street, including a man who stopped his motorcycle outside Teddy Kollek’s house to tell us he had put in the electricity there decades before.
One final tourist attraction. Our daughter Raquel had been in Israel this past Yom HaAtzma’ut with her family to watch our grandson Ezra participate in the 2024 Chidon Tanach. (See how subtly I snuck that in.) She told us to be sure to visit the Temple Mount Sifting Project. I’ll be honest; sifting earth from Har HaBayit didn’t speak to me. But Raquel insisted, so Sharon, Andrea, and I, together with their brother Monty, went.
Was she right! One of the highlights of our trip, the two hours we spent there were much more than merely educational and fun. Chaim, our wonderful archeologist/guide (originally from Chicago), and his assistant, Avner, told us that the project’s largest group of participants are Christian evangelicals who love to dirty their hands with earth Jesus trod upon.
My reaction, similar in tone, was very different in detail. I found it deeply meaningful to dirty my hands in earth and artifacts that came from Har HaBayit where Judaism’s two temples once stood; to sift earth and find sand, stone, flint, metal, tile, and plaster that dated to both temples as well as to Byzantine, Ottoman, and many other eras; to imagine that a bone we found might have been from a sacrifice ritually prepared by one of my ancestors — I’m a kohen (Jewish priestly caste); to see so much Jewish history emerge from what looks, at first blush, like just a bunch of wet dirt in buckets.
That message was a ray of hope in a difficult trip; the multi-front still-raging war hit home personally when we learned that our cousin Eitan was seriously injured in Lebanon (may he have a speedy and complete recovery). But the Temple Mount project demonstrates the depth and breadth of Jewish history; a history filled with destruction and despair, followed by renewal and restoration, grandeur and glory. I don’t know the future, of course; no one does. Using the Temple Mount Project as my lodestar, however, I pray that this timeless cycle will continue, and peace will reign when we next visit.
Joseph C. Kaplan, a retired lawyer, longtime Teaneck resident, and regular columnist for the Jewish Standard and the New Jersey Jewish News, is the author of “A Passionate Writing Life: From ‘In my Opinion’ to ‘I’ve Been Thinking’” (available at Teaneck’s Judaica House). He and his wife, Sharon, have been blessed with four wonderful daughters and five delicious grandchildren.
I’d like to invite all my readers from Fair Lawn and its environs (and anywhere else too), to Congregation Shomrei Torah’s Second Annual SeferFest. It will be held on Sunday, December 8, at 19-10 Morlot Avenue in Fair Lawn, from 11:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. In addition to thousands of new and used seforim and other Jewish books that will be available, I will be at a table selling my book, “A Passionate Writing Life: From ‘In My Opinion’ to ‘I’ve Been Thinking’.” I’ll be happy to sign all copies bought then or previously. But whether you’re buying or not, please stop by my table if you can; I’d love to meet you in person.
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