Winter in Jerusalem. Some days warm and sunny, with the deciduous trees turning yellow and dropping their leaves, like October in Vermont. Other days (like today) chilly, extremely windy, with heavy rain showers and occasional rays of sun. Yesterday the air quality was officially rated bad — with lots of humidity and dust, or “fine particulate matter”, pulling a blanket of haze down on the city.
I had thought to try an olive oil and wick chanukiah this year, but in the end, settled for what was easiest — buying the last, slightly damaged chanukiah at Shufersal (the supermarket) and using the candles that a previous tenant left in the apartment. We recently read the the Mishna and Gemara on lighting for Chanukah in two different classes. I now know that as a ground floor dweller, I am supposed to put my chanukiah outside b’reshut harabim (in the public domain), not more than a hands-breadth to the right of the door as one goes out (so opposite the mezuzah), not too high. But I don’t have a glass box to put it in, and didn’t want to start a fire or have it blow out. And no one walks past my windows. So I put it on the table, which is the option one is really only supposed to follow if one is in fear — which is the last thing I feel here about putting up a chanukiah!
My Hebrew College teachers Cantor Doctor Brian Mayer and Cantor Lynn Torgove came by as the first night of Chanukah was coming in — a nice gift for the holiday. They were on their way to a levavot (latkes in Hebrew) party at the home of one of Brian’s sons, who is here teaching English for a year at the only school in Jerusalem where Israeli Arabs study with Israeli Jews. They’re here in Israel for two weeks. After they left I lit my first candle, and made levavot, most of which I took my Mishna class the next morning.
The second night I went to Tel Aviv with granddaughter Yochi, her daughter Golan, and grandson Hagai. We went to the apartment of my oldest grandson, Avishai, and his wife Libat, and their three wonderful children. Laurie, the mother of my grand kids, was also there, and Gal, the youngest granddaughter, who is back for a few weeks from a stint selling Israeli cosmetics in the US. It was a fun evening.
We hung out, lit candles, sang brachot (the tune is different here in Israel — probably a Mizrachi — Middle Eastern — tune). Then we ate a vegetarian dinner — a nice bean stew, sweet potato latkes, sufganiyot. I got to practice my Hebrew comprehension as the siblings chatted in their speedy Hebrew.
Christmas does exist here, but not in my neighborhood. I’ve seen one apartment with a Christmas decoration in the window. Chanukiot are everywhere — many outside apartments in glass cases for all to enjoy the mitzvah) and sufganiyot are ubiquitous. The best sufganiyot are rumored to be at a bakery in the city center (mercaz ha’ihr), but for sheer fanciness you can’t beat the chain of Roladin bakeries. In my Mishna class we did a taste text from three bakeries — the simplest strawberry jam ones from Roladin were by far the tastiest.
For the third night of Chanukah I made two more batches of latkes — one with onions and one without, at the request of the one of the hosts. The party was at the apartment that friends Alden and Doug share. In commemoration of the tradition of Doug and his mother (of blessed memory — she died in August), we ate latkes and chicken wings. It was a very convivial gathering — half the student body there, it seemed. Doug talked about his mom, and how they first came to eat chicken wings and latkes (after a fortuitous trip to Wegmans). There was plenty to drink — alcoholic and otherwise — and plenty of interesting conversation. It was pleasure to get to know some of my fellow students outside of a classroom or tiyyul. I walked home with three of my classmates, and found the trip to be short, as compared to walking to the party alone with my burden of latkes! A (Jewish) friend invited me to join a Christmas party at her house, and afterward to join her for midnight mass in the Old City. But I had had a long day, and it was really kind of nice not to think about Christmas at all!
Nine months in Israel 