You can’t go to Tzfat for Shabbat not expecting a certain amount of Jewish mysticism to permeate your experience. If that’s not what you’re looking for, you might as well go somewhere else. But my Shabbat experience in Shabbat really went way past the level I had been expecting.
The journey began on Thursday afternoon when we left campus at 3:45pm in order to catch the 5:15pm bus from the Tachanah Merkazit to Tzfat. After a very involved search, we finally found the departure location for the bus and proceeded to wait. 5:20pm passed and with it a completely full bus. Again at 6:20pm, we were passed by. After the 7:20pm bus drove by with no extra seats, we decided to relocate to the starting point of the bus in Jerusalem. Finally, at 9pm we got on a bus to Tzfat, about an hour after we had anticipated arriving in the town. We pulled into the Tachanat Merkazit of Tzfat at 1:30am and made our way to the hostel. After checking in, we were informed that it was the night of the yartzite of the Ari, the man who made Kabbalah accessible to all, not just the most learned mystics in the Jewish community. It goes without saying, his grave was one hopping place. The streets were lined with people handing out food to people who were making the pilgrimage to the grave. The actual cemetery was reminiscent of the crowds in front of the Kotel. Finally, at 3am, we got to our rooms and crashed for a very unsettled few hours of sleep. In the morning, we had breakfast at the hostel and then made our way to the Artist Colony of Tzfat to do some shopping and sight-seeing.
After a successful day wandering the galleries of Tzfat and visiting the laffa-crepe guy (who apparently had a cameo on the French cooking channel) we made our way back to the hostel to attend a challah making class. Of course, there couldn’t have been a better program for me! We then headed up to our room to prepare for Shabbat. After candle-lighting, the craziness really started. We went to services which involved the women sitting behind a floor to ceiling curtain while the men “danced” around during the prayers. Finally, the service drew to a close and we moved outside to head to our host-families houses for Shabbat dinner. After a brief period of being absolutely lost (which our guide book had informed us was impossible to do in Tzfat) we found the rabbi who was hosting Hannah, Melanie and me.
As we walked into his apartment, Hannah was rushed by a woman who was outraged because Hannah hadn’t found her earlier in order to watch the sunset through her sunglasses. Apparently, these were very special sunglasses. With them, you could see “the fiery light of HaShem!” Finally, we sat down for the meal after hamotzi when the rabbi started talking. He began by speaking about mikvah. He made it very clear to his audience of eight women and one 10-year-old boy that he was only speaking of mitzvoth that a man could perform. He proceeded to inform us that a couple in which both parents work are destroying their personal family Beit HaMikdash and their children’s lives. At this point, another guest, a woman who was looking to move to Tzfat, piped in that she felt sorry for any woman who felt the need to read Torah.
The evening was full of similar conversations, ranging from the prophetic flying of the sunglasses lady’s note to the Ari into his grave to a full-fledged interrogation of Melanie’s lack of connections with the Chabad in Paris which is apparently a Chabad center in the world. At one point during dinner, sunglasses lady informed Hannah that since she was so homesick, she should be on drugs. The only part of the evening that surpassed the dinner in awkwardness was when, on the walk back to the hostel, the sunglasses lady asked me point blank whether or not Melanie was Jewish. When informed that she wasn’t, she happily proclaimed that she had known something was wrong with “that black girl.” I only refrained from a completely futile physical assault on this old lady by pinching my own arm the whole walk back.
The following day was much more laid back, peaking in weirdness when, after lunch, we sang a version of “Puff the Magic Dragon” called “Puff the Kosher Dragon” who was fed lox and bagels and did all sorts of Jewish things while romping around Tzfat. Surprisingly enough, I came out of the weekend very happy to have had the experience. The ridiculousness and insult just surpassed any imaginable levels and was carried out with such genuine good intention that I couldn’t do anything but laugh. A lot. All the way to the tachanat to catch the first bus back to Jerusalem after Shabbat. Which we did. And thus ended the most humorous visit that the holy city of Tzfat has ever hosted.
No comments:
Post a Comment