Hello Blog.
I know. I say it every time.
But I really am sorry. I just can’t seem to keep a steady regiment of blog logging.
So now we have to catch up on like two weeks. OK. So let’s see. Two weeks ago… Yes. Two weeks ago I moved into a nice little house in Jerusalem, in a nice little neighborhood overlooking the Old City. It’s marvelous. Simply marvelous. I got there Thursday afternoon, Taanis Esther. I was invited to Jerusalem by the Swerdlov family, and they were the ones who directed me, as I was so lost in my ancient home. We had a wonderful start to a wonderful Purim (please forgive me if I say wonderful one or two too many times. I mean, after all, this is show business.) Jerusalem is one of those places where you go, and as your day progresses, you meet more and more people whom you had no idea were gonna be there. So besides for the new people that I met, which is a very nice group of dedicated Jews, I also ran into old friends. Friends from New York, Minnesota, Miami, Calabasas, Tucson and even Australia. It’s nice. Friday I went to visit some friends in far away Rechovot. It was wonderful.
Then came Friday night. I made the pilgrimage to the Western Wall. The walk is about twenty minutes from where I live to where I become alive. (Is somebody writing this down? This is good stuff!) And as you can imagine, with every turn you make, getting closer to the destination, more and more people fall into line on the same path, so that when you enter the Old City, you are surrounded by Jews from every imaginable corner of the world. Then we arrived, all of us together. It was Purim, it was Shabbos, and it was Jerusalem. It was beautiful. I walked into the main service area, just because I don’t know what else to call it, and I immediately heard my name being called. But when I turned, I saw nobody that I recognized. Then I saw him, waiving to me. Over here! I’m thinking DO I know him? Good Shabbos, he tells me. My name is Elimelech Blumstein. Well Hello! Elimelech Blumstein is the composer of some very very popular Chassidic songs, and he was saying Good Shabbat to me! So we shmoozed for a little while, talking a little about this and a little about that. Then he had to go, so we had to say Goodbye until next time. See you around. I’m not gonna go into all the terms we used as we parted, but Shabbat Shalom was in there, and, being that we were in Jerusalem, Happy Purim was in there too.
Then I found the group. The group I was searching for. There was a Rabbi at the head of the group, leading them in prayer. Oh man, does that mean I’m late? Rabbi Swerdlov was melodiously chanting the ancient words of the Friday night prayer, together with a group of men from the O. C. in California. They sang, swayed, danced and prayed until the angels were ready to take them from the Holy Temple to the Holy Tzemach Tzedek Shul where they would eat the Shabbat meal. Once there, another group joined them, this one from New Mexico (spelled that way due in part to the difficulties involved in spelling Albuquerque.) The meal commenced (started?) and it was gearing up to be a very special evening. The Rabbis at the head of the table spoke beautifully. And by rabbis I mean Rabbi Swerdlov and Rabbi Schmukler from N.M. People around the table were asked to introduce themselves and drink a L’Chaim. To hear people talking about their visit to the Holy Land, and about the Shabbat that they were experiencing really, in my opinion, would have been worth the whole trip. People got teary eyed as they spoke about their Bar Mitzvas, or about their grandmothers. They spoke about Judaism becoming something real, something worth taking a serious look at. Then I got the chance to sing My Mother’s Shabbos Candles. This is a song that really has a lot of power. It was so powerful, people started laughing just so that they wouldn’t cry. (I hope that was the reason.) Either way, it was a Friday night meal to remember. Thank you again to Rabbi ans Mrs. Swerdlov for having the best thing in town.
