Shabbat In Jerusalem
As someone who regularly celebrates Shabbat (at least to some extent), the prospect of spending that holy day in such a holy city filled me with joy from the first moment I knew it was going to happen. But nothing, not even the many stories and previews I heard about how different Jerusalem is during Shabbat, could have possibly prepared me to experience it first-hand.
After an emotional day of visiting the Kotel for the first time, we welcome Shabbat in our best clothes with a brief Kabbalat Shabbat service on the tracks of the light rail. It was rather terrifying to step out onto the tracks at first, but it was a really incredible way for us to experience the silence and stillness of Shabbat when the whole city is seemingly sleeping. As our group chanted the Shema and V'ahavta, an Orthodox man walked down the tracks and through our group--and the smile on his face was blinding. I can only imagine what we must have looked like to him, a group of young Jews claiming their place among the Jewish people while praying in Jerusalem. I held that smile with me as the night went on and we shared our personal experiences with Shabbat and other Jewish traditions, deepening our sense of community.
Saturday was the first time during this entire trip that we got to genuinely relax--and it was sorely needed! We had a late start time and, after breakfast, took a walk to a nearby park to discuss the weekly parshah. We had some more time to relax and take Shabbat naps, and then it was back to the park for a discussion on Jewish values and how they contribute to one's Jewish identity. It was with these thoughts in mind that we returned to the hotel and preceded to have a difficult but necessary session: preparation for our visit to Yad Vashem, Jerusalem's Holocaust Memorial.
As close as our group had drawn up until that point, I really felt a special sort of kinship with the rest of Bus 525 after we bared our souls in that conversation. As a recent convert to Judaism, I have always felt a little awkward when it comes to talking about the Shoah. I feel deeply about it, and it often makes me very emotional to even think about it, but when I sit with Jews whose family members perished there... well, I almost feel like a fraud. But my group was having none of that, and it was transcendent to finally feel like I could let myself feel as I feel about the Shoah--that, even if not my blood, they were still my people and it is still my pain and, most importantly, it is still my responsibility to educate others about the Shoah and fight so that it doesn't happen to someone else.
With that in mind, and after a bit of time to change and relax, we reunited for Havdalah just outside the hotel, then strolled on over to Ben Yehuda street for dinner and absorbing some culture. So as Saturday night in Jerusalem draws to a close, I think of the big difference between walking to the park during Shabbat and walking to dinner after Havdalah... and I reflect on what it means in the greater scheme of things. Watching the city come alive again after Havdalah has left me with a deep sense of hope--for the Jewish people continue not just to endure but to thrive--and pride--because the Jewish people are my people, and this is my story...and I chose it for myself.
