Friday, January 23, 2009
David arrived at my hotel bright and early (for him) at about 9:30 a.m., and we took a cab to the “City of David.” This area, located south of the Temple Mount, is the site of the fortified Jebusite city conquered by King David. According to the City of David website (www.cityofdavid.org.il):
David arrived at my hotel bright and early (for him) at about 9:30 a.m., and we took a cab to the “City of David.” This area, located south of the Temple Mount, is the site of the fortified Jebusite city conquered by King David. According to the City of David website (www.cityofdavid.org.il):
In approximately 1000 B.C.E., King David arrived in the city. David, who
had previously ruled in Hebron for seven years, conquered the Fortress of Zion
and turned the "Jebusite City" into his religious and national capital: "David
occupied the fortress and called it the City of David" (Samuel II, 5:9).
Then David fortified the city: "He built up the surrounding area, from the Millo
inward" (ibid) and built his palace here.
Jews again began living in the area, now located in the Arab village of Silwan, in the late 19th century. The City of David came under Israeli rule following the Six Day War in 1967. The site became an active archaeological site in the 1970s, and in the early1990s, Jews began living in the area on a larger scale.
The tour includes the site of what is believed to be King David’s palace; the remains of houses dating back to the Second Temple Period (8th to 6th century B.C.E.); the Gihon spring, the water source that was key to the survival, and later conquest, of the city and the place where King Solomon was anointed to succeed his father, David; and Hezekiah’s Tunnel, an 8th century B.C.E. engineering feat that channeled the waters of the Gihon Spring inward toward the city and to a reservoir known as the Shiloach Pool.
Lots of climbing up and down and lots of history, all crammed into two hours.
From the south end of the City of David, we went up … literally … to the walls of the Old City and visited the Western Wall, known as the Kotel. The area in front of the Wall is a perpetual center of activity, filled with tourists and men and women at prayer at all hours of the day and night. It is always a “must” during my visits to Jerusalem, and I was able to spend a few quiet moments touching the stones and reflecting on what brought me here once again.
We then walked into the Jewish Quarter of the Old City and visited the Cardo, an excavated “Main Street” from 6th century Jerusalem which now, as then, is filled with shops. I did some “damage” at a shop Ellen and I first visited in 1982, and I can’t wait to have my purchase delivered in Rochester in a few weeks. I’ve already picked out a spot in the house, and I think it will look great. (No more details … Ellen hasn’t seen it yet.)
In years past, I would have left the Old City by walking through the shuk, the market in the Arab Quarter. These days, that’s not such a good idea, and David and I took the long way around past Zion Gate and through the Armenian Quarter. Political conditions may have changed, but the freshly-baked bread available in the Old City and in the plaza just inside the Jaffa Gate is still wonderful. An oblong-shaped bagel topped with sesame seeds makes a perfect snack.
David and I returned to the hotel via Ben Yehuda Street, a pedestrian mall located on a hill between King George Street and Jaffa Road. We stopped for shwarma, a sandwich filled with roasted meat, hummus, salad and French fries. Not on my diet, but pretty darn good. We then returned to the hotel for a quick nap, got dressed for Shabbat, and set out to visit Rabbi Yom Tov Glaser. Rabbi Glaser (“call me Yom Tov”) is a 40-ish California native who moved to Israel in 1991. Rabbi Glaser lives in the nearby Nahalot neighborhood with his wife, Leah, and seven children. A “multi-tasker” of the first order, Rabbi Glaser is a teacher at Aish HaTorah, a well-respected Jerusalem educational institution; plays guitar and sings professionally and for groups of young adults visiting Israel with the “birthright israel” program; conducts self-improvement seminars; and is an expert mountain-biker and surfer.
Rabbi Glaser is also a member of a Hassidic sect known as Pinsk-Karlin, a group with its roots in the Ukraine. The Pinsk-Karliners have had a presence in Jerusalem since the late 19th century and have a synagogue in the ultra-Orthodox section of Jerusalem known as Meah Shearim.
As we walked from Rabbi Glaser’s house to the synagogue, he briefed me on what to expect at this Kabbalat Shabbat service welcoming the Sabbath. The Pinsk-Karliners have one other characteristic that separates them from other sects: they scream the prayers at the top of their lungs. Multiply that by several hundred voices and the result is that if you didn’t have a headache at the beginning of the service, you may well have one by the end.
I’ve never seen – or heard – anything like it. The leader chants the first few words of each prayer, and each member of the congregation – all men because the women are at home preparing the Sabbath dinner – shouts the rest of the prayer. There is no singing, and no speaking; just yelling. (Rabbi Glaser turned to me after a few minutes and asked for my reaction. I told him it was pretty much like a normal synagogue Board meeting.)
But the best was yet to come. At the end of the service, the men lined up to greet the Pinsk Karliner rebbe, the leader of the sect. The rebbe is an older fellow with a big white beard and bright, friendly eyes. Each person on line nodded to the rebbe and wished him a "good Shabbes." No one shook his hand. No one spoke with him. Those are the rules.
When Rabbi Glaser and I got to the front of the line, the rebbe asked Rabbi Glaser who I was. (His curiosity may have been aroused by the fact that I was the only adult male in the building without a beard.) Rabbi Glaser told him I was a visitor from New York who had come to Israel to volunteer with the Army. The rebbe then reached out to shake my hand, and asked me if I spoke either Hebrew or Yiddish. I shook his hand, told him I understood a little Hebrew and a little German, and answered his questions about where my parents were from. He then patted me on the shoulder several times and congratulated me for coming to Israel to help out. A warm, friendly encounter indeed.
When I turned to Rabbi Glaser and David, they were in shock. The rebbe speaks to no one after Friday night services, but just had a discussion with me, shook my hand and patted me on the shoulder. “That just doesn’t happen,” Rabbi Glaser said. “We’ve got third‑generation members of this congregation who have never done that. He must have thought something special was going on with you.” All of a sudden, I was a big shot, and I still don’t know why.
We returned to Rabbi Glaser’s house for an extended Shabbat dinner with 20 people in attendance, including Israelis and other Americans. The Rabbi delivered a talk about the week’s Torah portion and there was a lively discussion of several religious issues. And all the while the Rabbi’s children were running around, eating and spilling things.
It was a lovely dinner, and I was able to witness a very beautiful custom. Rabbi Glaser explained that at his Shabbat table, people don’t serve themselves from the plates of food passed around the table. Instead, each person serves the person next to him or her. In that way, everyone is a guest for dinner.
And then, around 10 p.m., I ran out of gas. David and I returned to the hotel, and I think it took me at least 30 seconds to fall to sleep.
The tour includes the site of what is believed to be King David’s palace; the remains of houses dating back to the Second Temple Period (8th to 6th century B.C.E.); the Gihon spring, the water source that was key to the survival, and later conquest, of the city and the place where King Solomon was anointed to succeed his father, David; and Hezekiah’s Tunnel, an 8th century B.C.E. engineering feat that channeled the waters of the Gihon Spring inward toward the city and to a reservoir known as the Shiloach Pool.
Lots of climbing up and down and lots of history, all crammed into two hours.
From the south end of the City of David, we went up … literally … to the walls of the Old City and visited the Western Wall, known as the Kotel. The area in front of the Wall is a perpetual center of activity, filled with tourists and men and women at prayer at all hours of the day and night. It is always a “must” during my visits to Jerusalem, and I was able to spend a few quiet moments touching the stones and reflecting on what brought me here once again.
We then walked into the Jewish Quarter of the Old City and visited the Cardo, an excavated “Main Street” from 6th century Jerusalem which now, as then, is filled with shops. I did some “damage” at a shop Ellen and I first visited in 1982, and I can’t wait to have my purchase delivered in Rochester in a few weeks. I’ve already picked out a spot in the house, and I think it will look great. (No more details … Ellen hasn’t seen it yet.)
In years past, I would have left the Old City by walking through the shuk, the market in the Arab Quarter. These days, that’s not such a good idea, and David and I took the long way around past Zion Gate and through the Armenian Quarter. Political conditions may have changed, but the freshly-baked bread available in the Old City and in the plaza just inside the Jaffa Gate is still wonderful. An oblong-shaped bagel topped with sesame seeds makes a perfect snack.
David and I returned to the hotel via Ben Yehuda Street, a pedestrian mall located on a hill between King George Street and Jaffa Road. We stopped for shwarma, a sandwich filled with roasted meat, hummus, salad and French fries. Not on my diet, but pretty darn good. We then returned to the hotel for a quick nap, got dressed for Shabbat, and set out to visit Rabbi Yom Tov Glaser. Rabbi Glaser (“call me Yom Tov”) is a 40-ish California native who moved to Israel in 1991. Rabbi Glaser lives in the nearby Nahalot neighborhood with his wife, Leah, and seven children. A “multi-tasker” of the first order, Rabbi Glaser is a teacher at Aish HaTorah, a well-respected Jerusalem educational institution; plays guitar and sings professionally and for groups of young adults visiting Israel with the “birthright israel” program; conducts self-improvement seminars; and is an expert mountain-biker and surfer.
Rabbi Glaser is also a member of a Hassidic sect known as Pinsk-Karlin, a group with its roots in the Ukraine. The Pinsk-Karliners have had a presence in Jerusalem since the late 19th century and have a synagogue in the ultra-Orthodox section of Jerusalem known as Meah Shearim.
As we walked from Rabbi Glaser’s house to the synagogue, he briefed me on what to expect at this Kabbalat Shabbat service welcoming the Sabbath. The Pinsk-Karliners have one other characteristic that separates them from other sects: they scream the prayers at the top of their lungs. Multiply that by several hundred voices and the result is that if you didn’t have a headache at the beginning of the service, you may well have one by the end.
I’ve never seen – or heard – anything like it. The leader chants the first few words of each prayer, and each member of the congregation – all men because the women are at home preparing the Sabbath dinner – shouts the rest of the prayer. There is no singing, and no speaking; just yelling. (Rabbi Glaser turned to me after a few minutes and asked for my reaction. I told him it was pretty much like a normal synagogue Board meeting.)
But the best was yet to come. At the end of the service, the men lined up to greet the Pinsk Karliner rebbe, the leader of the sect. The rebbe is an older fellow with a big white beard and bright, friendly eyes. Each person on line nodded to the rebbe and wished him a "good Shabbes." No one shook his hand. No one spoke with him. Those are the rules.
When Rabbi Glaser and I got to the front of the line, the rebbe asked Rabbi Glaser who I was. (His curiosity may have been aroused by the fact that I was the only adult male in the building without a beard.) Rabbi Glaser told him I was a visitor from New York who had come to Israel to volunteer with the Army. The rebbe then reached out to shake my hand, and asked me if I spoke either Hebrew or Yiddish. I shook his hand, told him I understood a little Hebrew and a little German, and answered his questions about where my parents were from. He then patted me on the shoulder several times and congratulated me for coming to Israel to help out. A warm, friendly encounter indeed.
When I turned to Rabbi Glaser and David, they were in shock. The rebbe speaks to no one after Friday night services, but just had a discussion with me, shook my hand and patted me on the shoulder. “That just doesn’t happen,” Rabbi Glaser said. “We’ve got third‑generation members of this congregation who have never done that. He must have thought something special was going on with you.” All of a sudden, I was a big shot, and I still don’t know why.
We returned to Rabbi Glaser’s house for an extended Shabbat dinner with 20 people in attendance, including Israelis and other Americans. The Rabbi delivered a talk about the week’s Torah portion and there was a lively discussion of several religious issues. And all the while the Rabbi’s children were running around, eating and spilling things.
It was a lovely dinner, and I was able to witness a very beautiful custom. Rabbi Glaser explained that at his Shabbat table, people don’t serve themselves from the plates of food passed around the table. Instead, each person serves the person next to him or her. In that way, everyone is a guest for dinner.
And then, around 10 p.m., I ran out of gas. David and I returned to the hotel, and I think it took me at least 30 seconds to fall to sleep.
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