Old/New World Discourse: Persian and Bucharian hospitality

During a recent Shabbot afternoon, I had a little "extra" discretionary time; my menfolk had davened at an early, rather than at a late, Mincha minyon and were, thereafter, otherwise occupied. Likewise, Boy-Who-Needs-Books and the girls were already busied with pals. Concurrently, my family was experiencing that rare Shabbot during which we were hosting no guests. 

Those elements, i.e. of extra hours, and of no home-oriented social responsibilities, provided me with an opportunity to catch up on some of my most adored friends. Enjoying the beauty of the local summer flowers, all vines and stems, pert blossoms and wafting perfume, I walked through our neighborhood.

At the home of the first buddy I meant to visit, I was given a warm reception. Her beloved Persian family invited me to eat, to drink, and to nap, in their home, possibly simultaneously, despite the fact that they were gathering themselves up to spend time with another family minutes just at the time when I appeared on their threshold.

I declined their gracious offer, not wanting to burden them when they, themselves, were en route to becoming guests. They countered my civility with a gift of ideas.

Before I left this family's yard, I was bestowed with suggestions about how to use unripened grapes to make stews and how to use such fruit to create tasty, sour sauces. Consistently, this family is generous with their things, and more importantly, with their affections. I am Blessed to know them.

We descended a staircase together, with that warm family pointed in the direction of their hosted Seudah Shlishi. I was pointed in the direction of other friends, who are also praiseworthy for their Hachnasat Orchim.

It hardly surprised me when, upon unfastening their entrance bolt, my Bucharian beloved, bedecked in her hat and jewels and in additional elements of her "Shabbot Best," invited me in for an afternoon repast. Although I had come calling to distribute my hugs and kisses, I was practiced in the fact that among certain loved ones, hospitality is elemental to answering the door.

First, my friend, who spoke softly to me in loving Hebrew, brought two empty dishes to the table where we were sitting. She smiled as she prepared her place and mine. Within a minute, her son followed, carrying a tray overflowing with platters of cake and of fruit. Thereafter, one of her daughters entered, also carrying a tray laden with select comestibles. Last, but not at all insignificantly, my friend's husband brought in a tea service.

I was delighted to see all of those family members, but, having just finished Shabbot lunch (failing to yield to hospitality is a poorly understood social statement except in the homes of close friends), I was unable to partake in the majority of the offered goodies. I did sip their delicious hot and spicy tea, however, and attempted to speak to those dear sisters and brothers in my best broken Hebrew for the entire duration of my visit. It was good to see them. It was wonderful to be the object of their attentions.

Some time later, I walked back up the hill and found my way to the Shabbot shiur I cherish, my visit to my friends having marked yet another fantastic experience in my Israeli odyssey. I'm glad that such an abundance of human goodness, b'li ayen Tov, falls into my life. I wish for you similar joy and similarly wonderful friends.
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Little Smile:

As is true with many folk, one of my pet peeves is finding my name on an electronic mailing list (at least junk, paper mail is on the decline). Not only do I despise having my time wasted, but it is also the case that I wish to retain my email address as a private entity and that I want only to receive personal memos (yes, I am idealistic).

In fairness, at times, I find it necessary to make exceptions even to my rules. Consider that recently I received an electronic correspondence on which my name was part of a list and yet I was glad to have been included.

Specifically, in addition to the humble email address of Yours Truly, that electronic missive provided, albeit likely inadvertently, the email addresses of important people in the religious community. Though I deleted all of those persons' contact information, on principle, I smiled knowing that such data had found its way to my inbox.