After all, we are one

I love to be here. It’s earthy. It hasn’t changed, but yet it has. Confusing. The people, our people, are living through difficult times. Very difficult times!

But still the restaurants are full. We were at Tzidkiyahu last Wednesday night. It’s a favorite of ours in Jerusalem’s Talpiot neighborhood. Known as a steakiya, but most diners order its juicy incredibly flavored shipudim, pargiot, chicken on a skewer, chicken liver on a skewer, or exotic delights like hearts or other organs, which we do not order, but they smell delicious. Served with a seemingly endless array of salads, instantly replaced for dipping with the fresh laffa, hot and crisp and delicious Iraqi pita. Simply fabulous, a huge far-from-fancy place that’s always packed.

Of course Israel’s restaurants are more than ethnic. They span the globe and the world’s restaurant mavens. Gluten-free has arrived. Vegan is big, and some of their places are chef-owned and very pricey. And now, the secular Israel requires that you check for kashrut. Tref is also in and big. No more assumptions that kosher food is ubiquitous. It is — but then again it isn’t.

The sons and daughters of many of the diners are in places like Gaza or the North. And if it’s not their children, it’s the other young people in their family or the children of friends. No one in this country doesn’t know someone fighting or defending. Even me! Our grandson has had a brief return to his yeshiva but is already called back for January as a reservist in the Tzanchanim, the paratroopers. He’s what they call a miluimnick. Somebody has to do it. And some, like our niece’s husband, Noam, already 60, and a high officer, have willingly chosen to return to leading troops. At his age it’s no longer mandatory, but yet he serves.

So when you enter a packed restaurant and hear the chants of Yom Huledet Sameach, happy birthday, which always seems to be celebrated in a restaurant, with the waitstaff joining in, and it appears that all is well and normal, just don’t believe that a momentary joyous moment is a sign that all is well. It isn’t.

Lives have changed in numerous ways. Let me tell you about Zami. He is a musician and musicologist and proud proprietor of Zami’s Music Box, a delightful museum filled with instruments, some familiar, others more unusual. Hundreds of them. At almost 80 years old, he and his wife have lived peaceful lives in the lovely small village in northern Israel known as Metulla, with its fresh mountain air and tranquil lifestyles.

But not anymore. Not today. They were forced to leave their longtime home immediately and relocate. Hezbollah was shooting rockets that were hitting their town. It was no longer a safe place; Zami and the other residents were ordered to relocate. Leave their precious collections behind. Leave their personal treasures. Leave their friends and neighbors. Go somewhere else. Now.

And so they did, painfully and with anguish. What choice did they have? They were fortunate that Zami’s brother Yitzchak had space for them in his Ramat Gan home. They have been there for many months now, with no idea when they can return to their formerly lovely home. This week a rocket hit their house. They do not know the level of the damage. How can they prepare themselves for the destruction of what they spent a lifetime creating? They are formidable, strong and brave, but also devastated. They long to go home.

Many families from the South were similarly relocated. Their proximity to Hamas rocket firing made it imperative that they vacate their residences. Entire towns and communities were emptied in what had to be a logistical nightmare for those new refugees. Many left their homes in a frenzy, leaving behind medications and urgent supplies. Hotels have been the answer for many, paid for by the government, but the disruption has been no luxury jaunt.

Enter the generous pied a terre homeowners, people like Alan and Barbara from Los Angeles, who have owned a Jerusalem apartment for 30 years. They rushed to offer their apartment in Rechavia to a newly displaced family with no payment required, no security check, and no legalities. Their philosophy is that we are one nation, and when our people are in trouble, it’s our duty to do whatever we can, and beyond.

Matt and Pam from West Orange did the same with their beautiful penthouse, which stands tall against the precious backdrop of Jerusalem’s hills. The six-member family they welcomed into their home came with no reference checking and no charge. This is what it’s like to be part of a family, a Jewish family. After all, we are one.

Many many others were similarly generous. Of course.

I follow a Facebook page called Secret Jerusalem. People often ask other group participants for invites to Shabbat meals or holiday dinners or even sleepovers. Strangers asking strangers, accepted as just another tribal family. These requests are usually successful and hosts often found. In times good and bad, this is how we are.

Rosanne Skopp of West Orange is a wife, mother of four, grandmother of 14, and great-grandmother of eight. She is a graduate of Rutgers University and a dual citizen of the United States and Israel. She is a lifelong blogger, writing blogs before anyone knew what a blog was! She welcomes email at rosanne.skopp@gmail.com

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