I confess. I do miss Trader Joe’s and Costco. But I’ve learned to live without them quite well, and it’s okay. But Sundays – – well, that’s another matter.
In America, there is generally a five-day work week, with Saturday and Sunday being the days off. When you’re a shomer Shabbat Jew, Saturdays are Shabbat, and while they are wonderful, it only leaves Sunday for leisure and catch-up time.
In Israel, there is also generally a five-day work week, but the “weekend” is Friday and Saturday. This has serious implications for those of us who keep the Sabbath, especially in winter when the Sabbath arrives at 4 pm on Friday. You can forget doing many errands on your list since many government offices are closed on Fridays. Ditto for our bank. Israel is a small enough country with lots to see so theoretically you can plan a half-day excursion, but you’re always under pressure to allow enough time to return in time for Shabbat. And it assumes you’ve done all your cooking for the bountiful Sabbath meals well before Friday.
I start my Shabbat preparations on Tuesday. In the morning I make challah dough. While it’s rising I go into town for my weekly shopping excursion. I try not to go more than once a week, since gas is $7 to $8 per gallon and each trip costs me a minimum of $25. (Consequently many people where I live order their food from town and have it delivered. Even paying a delivery charge is cheaper than driving into town yourself, unless you have multiple errands to run. But I like to choose things myself.)
I finish the challah and stick it in the freezer. Then I start cooking things that will hold up well in the fridge, such as grains or hummus. The next day I cook soup and chicken. We eat more simply here – – no more cholent or kugels like we ate in the US – – but we do eat a lot of different kinds of vegetable dishes and salads. Since these are pretty labor intensive and must be eaten fresh, I do save these for the last minute.
Now that Spring is upon us, we’ve been very diligent about our Friday morning excursions. I love the fact that we are in the Galil, near so many incredible nature sites, and most are anywhere between 15 – 90 minutes away by car (the latter takes us to the upper Galil and the Golan Heights). After some nice winter rains, the Galil is bursting with rich emerald green grasses and bushes, pink almond blossoms, red poppies and cyclamen. The rivers, streams and waterfalls are at full throttle – – these will either disappear completely or deplete to a pitiful trickle in summer – – yet the hordes of tourists have not yet descended and we generally have the National Parks mostly to ourselves (we bought an annual pass with a Senior discount).
While every site we’ve visited has been gorgeous, it’s about more than just beauty. It’s knowing that nearly every square inch has meaning. It might have been the site of an important village, or an event from the Torah, a momentous battle, a ancient city or synagogue, a past civilization, the site of a Biblical prophecy or a miracle, the tomb of a holy rabbi, a Crusader fortress or a sheikh’s palace. We are remembering our history while making history just by our very presence in the Land, and that is thrilling and emotional and spiritually uplifting. Objectively speaking, Mt. Hermon (on the Syrian border) may not be as majestic as the Rockies or the Alps. The Negev’s Machtesh Ramon (Ramon Crater) may not be as grandiose as the Grand Canyon. The waterfalls of Metulla (on the Lebanese border) are hardly Niagara Falls. But they belong to us because they were given to us by HaShem, duly recorded in our Torah, and they were acquired with blood, sweat, tears and great sacrifice then and now. There is a deep connection to our Land that perhaps defies logic, but it is the sense that this is home, and this is ours, and somehow through HaShem’s grace we merited to be part of a generation of reclamation, settlement, presence and blessing.
I guess that’s worth the death of Sundays.
Midlife in Israel 