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Jewish World Review June 16, 2003 / 16 Sivan, 5763
JERUSALEM DIARIST
The Sabbath after
In the small Jerusalem shul (synagogue) where I daven (pray), many people knew several victims
of the deadly #14 bus bombing. Alan Beer, 47, an immigrant from Cleveland
lived in the neighborhood. Eliza Cohen, 70, was a frequent visitor to the Israel
Center, where many Anglo immigrants attend classes and lectures. Genia
Berman, 50, was the wife of Jay Berman, an American immigrant. And Yaffa Mualem,
65, lived just around the corner from the shul.
On the short walk to shul through the peaceful, flower-lined back streets of
the German Colony, we pass others making their way to welcome the Sabbath at
other synagogues. It seems that everyone is wearing a certain sadness on their
face and a weariness in their eyes.
Behind the shul, on the wall of a non-descript apartment building on
Yehoshofat Street that is home to the Mualem family, a black-bordered notice announces
the funeral and shiva (post-funeral mourning) details for Yaffa Mualem, long-time resident whose
husband owns the only shoe store in the neighborhood. The building is unnaturally
silent, in contrast to the other apartments and homes along the street, where
the sounds of families gathered for Friday night may be heard.
In shul, the words of the prayers jump off the page as either descriptive of
our situation or a comforting prescription. " My eyes have seen my vigilant
foes, when those who would harm me rise up against me, my ears have heard their
doom," writes the Psalmist.
"Arise and depart from amid the upheaval," says a verse in the central Lecha
Dodi hymn. "Too long have you dwelled in the valley of weeping. He will
shower compassion on you."
There's nothing that compares with walking through the streets of Jerusalem
on a Friday night. Even in my mixed religious/secular neighborhood there's
barely any traffic and people stroll along the middle of the road, moving aside
for the occasional car to pass. Without the traffic, the scent of the
flowering trees sweetens the air. With windows thrown open to take in the soft cool
breezes, the sounds of conversations, kiddush and singing waft out.
But this week there are seventeen Jerusalem families who spent Sabbath in
stunned silence.
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I don't think it was my imagination --- the singing that welcomed the Sabbath
in my synagogue this past Friday night was more spirited than usual.
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JWR contributor Judy Lash Balint is the author of "Jerusalem Diaries: In Tense Times." Comment by clicking here.
