A Different Kind of Shabbat in Jerusalem

Yesterday was my first Shabbat in Jerusalem in more than a year. I remember the last Shabbat I spent here in July, 2006, walking alone amidst hundreds of other pilgrims through darkened streets to the Kotel and then having a meal at a Russian family's beet-rich dinner where I was confused for Aeli's Australian wife.

This recent Shabbat was much more chill, full of Skype and trans-Atlantic phone calls and laughter at Debby's parents' house on Friday night and a trip to the swimming pool on Saturday. Interestingly, I learned that many people in our mixed Arab-Israeli neighborhood do not seem to observe Shabbat—not because they are not religious but because they are not religiously Jewish. I fell asleep Friday night to the strains of Middle Eastern club music floating up from the street six floors below as a Palestinian dance party unfolded around the women in wigs and men in black hats who were walking home from Shabbat dinners. This is an entirely new experience in integration for me, nothing like what I've known in the States, and it's awesome. Shavua tov kulam, a good new week to everyone from here in East Jerusalem.