Back Home In Jerusalem

As I sit here on the hotel patio under the shade of an umbrella and feel the refreshing Jerusalem breeze, I marvel that it has been over three years since I was last in Jerusalem. I signed up to attend the Shalom Hartman Rabbinic Summer Program for the summer of 2020, which thanks to COVID, was cancelled in both 2020 and 2021. Arriving here last Friday, I let out a long held breath and an ease began to settle on me. A feeling of being in my second home.

Since classes do not start until tomorrow (July 5,) I have been free to just walk the city. Much has changed here in these past three years, let alone in the 46 years since I lived here. On the simplest level, as the city has grown, the number of bus routes has grown exponentially. Most of Jaffa Road has been taken over by the light rail. Yet, Jaffa Rd. also remains the same, even from 46 years ago as many of the same stores are still there and open for business.

I have spent the past three days re-exploring the parts of the city I’ve always loved. From Machaneh Yehudah to the interior of the Jaffa Gate, from the dozens of parks just off King David Street to the cafes along King George, to First Station (the old Jerusalem train station). The aromas and flavors are the same, The languages have changed. I’ve heard no Russian so far, and not as much English.

To prepare for this summer, I’ve been taking online Hebrew lessons through the Rosen School at Hebrew University. Today I had a real blessing. The class starts at 8:00 PM Albuquerque time which is 5:00 in the morning in Israel. For some reason I woke up about 4:30 this morning so I decided to sign into the class and am very glad I did. None of the other students signed on so our teacher and I spent the hour just talking. Unlike walking the streets here where I’m immediately spotted for the American I am and people default to English, Ronit and I spent the entire hour conversing in Hebrew. The conversation showed me both how much Hebrew I’ve actually retained over the years as well as reinforcing how much Hebrew I’ve forgotten. As they say, use it or lose it. 

While I have reconnected over dinner with colleagues I haven’t seen in decades, essentially I am here alone as Michele doesn’t arrive until the 13th. Over the past three days I’ve walked over 20 miles and today is not over yet. The sounds of the city remain the same. Okay, to be honest, there is more traffic noise. What a pleasure to be someplace where it is safe to walk most everywhere. The drivers may honk impatiently at each other, but if you are waiting at a crosswalk, the drivers proactively stop to let you cross. Even the so-called rude Israeli drivers respect those of us who travel by foot.

Memories and reminders are flooding back. Not just the places I frequented over the years but more reminders of people. I stopped for a soda at a restaurant that a kind older colleague invited me to join him and his daughter after Shabbat services. I walked by the old Bezalel Academy buildings and thought of a former student who took his year abroad to study in their dance program. Sweetness fills the air.

It is good to be back home and odd to not be home. But that is the way it is here in a place which is still struggling with own multiverse of identities. The air is sweet, the memories sweeter, and the promise of new experiences even sweeter yet.