First: a HUGE thank you to all my readers who have sent in notes of comfort and support to the grieving Aviv family. (See last post). Please keep them coming, as I will present the letters along with the JNF memorial certificates and FIDF donation certificates to them on Memorial Day next Monday. So you have through the weekend. Please don’t delay.

John and I just returned from a few days in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. He had a doctor’s appointment and we really needed a change of scenery. I hadn’t been down to Jerusalem since the pandemic, and once again there are no tourists.All the streets, holy sites, and tourist spots are completely empty. It’s a totally different vibe than when there are thousands of tourist groups, lines to enter a building, crowds jostling. It’s lonely, but also beautiful. To be able to enjoy sacred silence.

We visited King David’s tomb. We went to the Cenacle just upstairs in the same building. We walked the empty cardo, the excavated Roman Main Street that ran the width of the Old City through the marketplace and to the second Holy Temple. There was only the chiseling and hammering sounds of archaeology in progress. The stalls of the vendors were open despite the few customers. The cries in Hebrew, English, Russian, Arabic for tourists to come and buy. Only now there were few visitors. Still, the fragrance of nard and sandalwood hung heavy in the air. The colors of the fabric hanging and the brass and silver gleaming were just as vibrant. John and I went to the Sepulchre. The Orthodox Christians had just celebrated their Easter the day before. The miracle of the Holy Flame, the oldest continual miracle, had occurred the Saturday night previous. And of course, we made our stop at the Kotel, the Western Wall.

Flags were flying half mast for the five soldiers who were killed by missile fire as they unloaded humanitarian aid at the Kerem Shalom crossing on Sunday. It was quiet. Very quiet there. No groups singing, dancing, praying at the Kotel Plaza. No bands of soldiers. Only a few seminary girls in their long skirts and mothers with young children. A few men praying at the wall. It was easy to get a chair and bring it right up against the cold stones.

I really thought the floodgates of my tears would open up. I told John I might be a couple hours. I had a whole pack of tissue and my Scriptures. I’ve been holding space for so many people and so much over the past six months, there is barely enough room to hold any more. Every time I go to the Wall, unexpectedly, I sob until I cannot cry any more. Sometimes, it’s for certain people; other times it’s because I feel such connection with my past (family, ancestors who either visited or long to come to this very spot); sometimes it’s for the state of the world. This time, fully expecting…. again the unexpected. For the first time, I just could not cry. Nothing would come up – or out.

I prayed. I prayed a lot. But I could not grieve. Not yet at least. I gave thanks for the new lives in our family and our circle of friends. For. G-d’s protection. For all the blessings we’ve received just in this past year alone. But I could not cry.

Jerusalem in the spring is a place of incredible beauty. The wisteria is in full bloom and just climbs over the old buildings. The fresh mountain air is still crisp and cold and the surrounding Judaean hills are still green.

We really needed this breath of fresh air. In the morning, we headed out for breakfast at a sabich place. Oh my goodness!!!! If you have never had a sabich, are you in for a taste explosion when you come here. I’d never had one of these Middle Eastern delights until I came here, and this place was the absolute best. So what is a sabich (pronounced sah bikh with that gargling sound at the end)? You take a big fluffy as a cloud pita, smear the inside with humus; put in some hot fried potato slices; a sliced hard boiled egg; some pickles, fried eddplant; amba (the most incredible pickled mango sauce); some schkoog (hot!!!!!!) for the adventurous; more eggplant -crispy outside, soft inside- techineh, cucumber, tomato, onions, more amba and humus. It sounds wild and IS WILD!!!! Fairly healthy, incredibly filling. All together delicious and wholly satisfying.

Which brings me to a recipe: When we were in England, our daughter made a deconstructed sabich salad for dinner one night. She served it with leftover roasted chicken and it was quite marvellous! So much so, I took pictures, asked her for permission and voila!

Elizabeth’s Sabich Salad

Serves 4. Pareve. (Vegetarian/neither dairy nor meat)

Ingredients:

• 1 head romaine lettuce, cut up
• 1 small English cucumber, sliced
• 4 hard boiled eggs, sliced
• 1/3 cup sweet pickles (gerkinns), chopped
• 1 small purple eggplant, sliced
• 1 small sweet potato, peeled & sliced
• 1/2 tsp paprika
• 1/4 cup pomegranate arils
• Dressing: 1/4 cup olive oil, juice of 1/2 lemon, salt & pepper

Sauté the sliced eggplant and sweet potato in very hot olive oil until soft and golden brown on outside. Let cool. Arrange rest of salad…lettuce, cucumber, pickles, eggs. Add in eggplant and sweet potato. Sprinkle with paprika and pomegranate. Dress with lemon/oil.

After breakfast, we went to Machaneh Yehuda Market, an entire covered square block of vendors and stalls selling produce, fish, meats, candy, baked goods, fresh squeezed juices, teas, spices, flowers, eggs, cheese, halvah, nuts, sweets, herbs, coffees, and everything else edible, gourmet and mundane. I did my shopping for the week, getting fresh figs!!!!! among other great things. (At night the stalls close up and the nightclubs and restaurants take their place… it becomes quite the hopping place for the younger crowd). But this morning, there were the usual rabbis, old ladies and beggars asking for spare change to feed the hungry; the guys playing guitar and hand drum and the Rastafarian dude with the steel marimba and the mime. The beautiful mime with her handmade outfit and props. She was standing there at one of the entrance on her little box platform, with her bird in its cage. Just standing, parasol in hand. Just standing.

On to Tel Aviv. Take in a couple museums. Feel the vibrancy of this bustling city. Marvel at all the gorgeous and innovative high rises continually being constructed. Yet the city, as is typical of most Israeli cities, never loses its greenways and parks. Urban gardens and jungles. Children’s play places. Tree-lined promenades. Delivery guys on motorbikes. Crazy drivers (everywhere here) with horns honking. High fashion alongside black denim and black tee shirts. Lots and lots of people walking dogs. Gun-carrying soldiers. Moms with strollers. Lots of moms. More pregnant women than I could count….and the gorgeous beach with the bikini clad, sunkissed babes and the men playing motkot (paddle ball) on the hard sand.

We met my son and a good friend we hadn’t seen in like forever for dinner. we had planned to spend about two hours, but it quickly turned into five hours. I love so much about Israel, one of which is the restaurant service. You are not expected to vacate your table right after you eat. They expect you to take your time, to sit and talk and enjoy the company. We had decided upon an outdoor table at a Sarona Market restaurant.

The Sarona area of Tel Aviv, like the community in Jerusalem and Haifa, was first settled in the early 1900s by Germans. They were a resurrected Templar group. Messianic Lutherans…. expecting that if they settled the Holy Land it would hasten the coming of the Messiah. It turned out they were Nazis..Really. They became Nazis in league with Hitler and were expelled from the country by the British in the early 1940s. But they built the cutest, quaintest neighborhoods. The houses are all intact, now turned into posh and artsy shops and cafes – surrounded oh all sides by skyscrapers. I love the juxtaposition.

Yet, despite the respite, everywhere were posters of the abducted. Banners and displays to bring home the hostages. Pictures of the faces of young girls, elderly men, and little children. Young concertgoers in their prime. It reminded me of New York after 9/11. All in all, it was a wonderful getaway. Hopefully, it won’t be another three years before we return.