She Said: She Said: Let’s Not Forget the Kadusha (of Jerusalem)

One of my favorite summer pastimes is tourist-watching. My friends and I sit in the pedestrian mall, Ben Yehuda, and watch the tourists. I don't know what the tourists think of Israeli teens filling that space, but I enjoy it a lot. For the cost of a slurpie, I manage to get a tan, some entertainment, and perspective.

I love to see how the tourists go gaga over anything written in Hebrew, and how they seem certain that any building made out of Jerusalem stone must be part of the old city. It's great to see them generously donating to the needy on the street. I listen to their conversations about the Kotel and about The City of David. I watch them in awe of Jerusalem. I feel jealous.

I've lost that awe. I no longer look at Jerusalem as the holiest city in the world, but as my home. There is nothing wrong with feeling that Jerusalem is home, but there is something very wrong in forgetting that home is Jerusalem.

When I take Jerusalem for granted, I forget that the place I'm fortunate enough to live in is more than an open-air shuk and a great bus network. I forget that it contains the Western Wall, and the location of the future Temple. I forget that every religion wants to call this city its own. I forget that only in Israel do we hear the priestly blessing every Shabbat. I forget my good fortune.

Every now and then I come to my senses. At those times, I go to the Kotel more often, and pray with more intent. Those times are too infrequent. I've become comfortable with how I live. I don't feel that I'm in Jerusalem, and I don't feel that I miss the Temple.

Meanwhile, I still encourage everyone who lives in Israel, or who is just visiting, to remember the significance of this holy city. I would remind them to be aware of how fortunate they are to be present in Jerusalem.

Sure, the tourists are annoying, but I have a lot to learn from them. It's time that I wake up and join them in embracing the kadusha.

-Becca

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In two different publications, I read about the impending construction of high-rise office and apartment buildings at the entrance to our blessed city, near where that as yet dysfunctional piece of expensive sculpture, the string bridge, currently sits. According to those articles, government officials were happy with those new plans, as were businessmen.

As maintained by those same reports, though, some of us little people were probably displeased (no "person of importance" had thought to directly solicit our opinions). Our discontent, though, was presented as inconsequential in those (and in other, related) matters. In fact, the newspapers presented our feelings as mostly supportive. After all, we, members of the masses, willingly continue to provide, via our taxes, the materials for such monuments. So our overseers have no reason to stop erecting those hewn testimonials. Our municipal administrators regard our position on preserving the holy nature of our city, as, at most, trifling.

Those bosses consider that others of our ilk care so little about Jerusalem specifically, and about Israel in general, that soon our type will forfeit making aliya altogether or, upon arrival,  not make any effort to protect Jerusalem's sanctity. Those civic masters assume that our type remains content with just getting here. They deem that we hold back from applying ourselves to the necessary work, and that we have a tendency to stand and gaze at the ruins of our nation rather than participate in and maybe even to direct its rebuilding. They do not know us.

Sure, our leaders are correct in noticing that we are fonder of Zionist music than we are of Zionist duties. It's always been easier to celebration the holy quality of this sacred realm than to defend it. Accordingly, our supervisors, in noting our moaning that we cannot "finish the work," necessarily view us as passive sorts who accept the gifts of the land, but who hesitate to champion them. They do not grasp our depths.

Sometimes, we remember to transfer our "music," our respect for spirituality, to our friends, to share its infectious nature at smachot, and even to write about how and why it inspires us. Sometimes, we are willing to surrender our comfort in order to continue dwelling here. Sometime, we recall that our land is acquired through challenges, the utmost of which are often bitter and personal.

Sometimes, we recognize that tests are stairways to holiness; we can elect to embrace our difficulties with joy, and gracious living lifts us even higher. Sometimes, we retain our awareness that all that occurrences are meant to favorably shape us.

One day, our governing parties will see that we small voices place commerce after sensitivity, that we minions have long been nay-saying grandiosity in the quiet of our homes, and that the wee ones have decided, "suddenly," to oppose such obscenities in the the streets. When, at last, we insignificant sorts begin to actively safeguard our city's precious soul, our would-be chiefs will come to understand that the only tributes, which the Jewish people support, are the ones to Hashem.

-Channie