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About 1,000 people crammed into Jerusalem\’s Kol Haneshama Reform synagogue for Yom Kippur services, while another 500 or so listened in the courtyard outside.
About 1,000 people crammed into Jerusalem\’s Kol Haneshama Reform synagogue for Yom Kippur services, while another 500 or so listened in the courtyard outside.
On this bright September afternoon, Zion Square, at the bottom of Jerusalem\’s downtown Ben Yehuda outdoor mall, is the usual confusion of pedestrian traffic — shoppers, students, soldiers, tourists, all hurrying about their business in every direction. A few minutes after 1 p.m., a small group of men and women joins the throng, bringing a little flock of children and strollers into the middle of the square. One of the men somewhat uncertainly unrolls a hand-lettered sign that says, in Hebrew, \”Prayer Vigil,\” and the group stands in a tight circle, reading psalms from prayer books in low voices.
The only thing Jerusalem\’s Jewish and Arab shopping malls had in common when news broke last Friday of the Wye II deal was that no one was dancing in the streets. There was relief that something at last was about to move on the Israeli-Palestinian front, but it takes more than Madeleine Albright playing what she fetchingly called an American \”handmaiden\” to disperse the suspicions of half a century.
When I was a junior in college, I spent the year in Jerusalem, studying at the Hebrew University. That year in Israel, more than any other single experience, determined the direction my life would take. I found myself taking every Judaic studies class I could, and I loved them so much that I decided to go to rabbinic school and spend my life immersed in the excitement and meaning of sacred Jewish texts.
Unhappy with the draft of a speech he was to deliver at the Jewish state\’s 50th anniversary celebration and frustrated with five Jewish aides who were unable to discuss the first biblical references to Israel, Vice President Al Gore took a break for dinner while his staff scoured Air Force Two for a copy of the Bible.
Four years after the U.S. Congress overwhelmingly passed a law that required the United States to move its embassy in Israel from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, the mission remains firmly rooted outside the Jewish state\’s capital city.
This week, when freshman Member of Knesset Dr. Ahmed Tibi declared his first preference for committee assignments — Defense and Foreign Affairs, which is briefed regularly by the Shin Bet and Mossad — right-wing MKs laughed it off. This would be like inviting Saddam Hussein into the Israeli Security Cabinet, they said. No Israeli Arab has ever sat on this Knesset committee — certainly no Arab with a resume such as Tibi\’s.
When incoming Prime Minister Ehud Barak needs to talk things over with Gen. Shaul Mofaz, the military chief of staff, he won\’t have to go far: Mofaz lives 12 houses away from him in the town of Kochav Yair.
Barry Fisher, director of the Los Angeles County Sheriff\’s Department crime laboratory, showed up in Jerusalem this week, invited by the Israeli Police Department to give a couple of lectures and the benefit of his 30 years\’ experience to the forensics people of the Jewish state. In a wood-paneled room at National Police Headquarters, along with about 25 Israeli police officers, I caught his second lecture, \”Forensic Science After O.J. Simpson.\” (I will assume that, despite so many breathlessly absorbing high-profile murders and sex scandals since then, you still vaguely remember O.J. Simpson.)
Amos Oz, Hebrew novelist, secular prophet and self-proclaimed \”non-synagogue\” Jew, has joined his local Reform congregation in Arad, the Negev desert town where he has lived since leaving Kibbutz Hulda a decade ago.