When you step out of your home in Tzfat, you never know what adventure this will bring. Last night we went for our usual Motzei Shabbos walk. It was late evening, the town looked quite empty, as there are fewer visitors during the current rain season. On our walk, starting at the Saraya – an 18th century Ottoman fortress, then following the loop of Jerusalem street which circles the mountain upon which the old city of Tzfat is built, we bumped into three different friends and exchanged wishes for a good week, and were heading home. 

When we got to our street, a Sephardi-looking character beckoned us to enter Old City Bomb Shelter #3, which is one minute from our house. We of course immediately entered, and found ourselves in a small room, with women and men sections, separated by wooden lattice divider. The walls were painted pleasant terracotta color,  and had beautiful paintings of ancient Israeli musical instruments, with the names of instruments in Hebrew on the pictures.  There was a “big crowd” in the room, which in Jerusalem would be 200, but in Tzfat a “big crowd” is about 30 people, mostly Moroccan Jews. The atmosphere transported us to 15th century Morocco.

We were warmly greeted by many people, and offered cakes, pastries, drinks and wine.  On a small stage there were three musicians – an oud/vocalist, a violinist, playing a violin held vertically on his knees, and a musician playing doumbeck (middle East drum). There was so much music from those three instruments that it sounded like 20-person band. Everybody was clapping, singing, dancing. The music was mesmerizing.  The people were friendly, warm and generous, and treated us like family. Later a group of Hasidim came in, and also recently elected Tzfat mayor Shuki Ohana, and sat down to listen. Turned out it was a “Hilula” – Yortzait of Baba Sali (famous Moroccan Sephardic Rabbi and Kabbalist).

In the middle of a circle of dancers there was an elderly man with long white beard, dressed in white robe and his head covered with white scarf, and looking himself like Baba Sali, and other people treated him with an apparent respect.

After a while the music stopped. The man dressed like Baba Sali took a microphone and started to talk to the crowd in Hebrew, in unexpectedly young-sounding voice, about his personal encounters with Baba Sali, and also about what music meant for Moroccan Jews, how it was full of longing for the Land of Israel and how it helped to keep connection to the Land before the Jews were able to come here. When he finished speaking, the mayor of Tzfat spoke, saying how much he appreciated Moroccan Jews and offering help and assistance in continuing Moroccan music traditions.  He also mentioned his plans to make a festival of Moroccan and Ladino music, similar to existing Klezmer festival in Tzfat every summer. After that musicians went back to playing and singing. Reluctantly we left as I had to prepare homework for my Hebrew class next morning, and the sounds of music accompanied us on the way home. That was an unexpected, but perfect Motzei Shabbos, in a company of our newly found singing and dancing Moroccan brothers and sisters.

It is a rainy season in Israel, but nobody complains about the rain here, it is considered a blessing, both in a direct and symbolic sense. The country depends on the rain for water supply and agriculture, and it only rains here in the winter. After Passover and until Rosh Ha Shana there is almost no rain at all. Our town is all steps and hills, and when it is raining, there are streams of water and waterfalls everywhere, but all people are saying is “Thank G-d it is raining!”

Another sign of the season is the abundance of winter fruits and vegetables. No fruit that we get is grown more than four hours away by truck, and when we get them, they are picked fresh, at most a few days before we buy them. By the same token, if something not in the season, we usually don’t get it, although some fruits are imported. There are a lot of fruit growing right on the streets, there are olive, lemon, pomegranate, fig trees with branches full of fruit. The ground underneath is sometimes covered with fruit that had not been picked. One can pick fresh fruits off the trees, but needs to know how to separate trumot and maasrot (tithes for cohen, levi and the poor) and to make proper blessings before eating it. Fortunately, when you move to Israel you learn the process pretty quickly. Our new favorites of the winter season are annona (also called in US cheremoya or custard apple; reminiscent of vanilla ice cream, only better), passion fruit, persimmons, kumquats and pomellos; and for vegetables – artichokes. But  tasting and smelling even regular fruit and vegetables, like cucumbers and tomatoes, is unlike anywhere else  in the world, and is a small experience of Gan Eden to the extent that one is able to experience it.

Yet another seasonal sign is tourists. In Tzfat after Chanukkah it’s just regular days (no holidays) until Tu BShvat, which falls on January 21 this year; but seeing many Jewish American tourists reminds us that there is such a thing as a Holiday Season in the US, when people often travel. They come to Tzfat to get inspiration, to revive their Jewish life. Sometimes we stop to talk to them, and Eber always tells them: “Want a real Jewish life? Move to Israel!”

This year was the first time we celebrated the whole week of Chanukkah in Tsfat.

This Holiday is very different here from Purim, in that it has a quiet and inner quality, even though full of joy and sharing. It was a rainy week, full of fog, which added to the inwardness and contemplative spirit of Chanukkah. 

On the eighth day of Chanukkah the fog and rain dissipated, and the sunlight poured through the opening in the clouds. It seemed as if the weather was following the pattern of the Holiday with eighth day called “Zot Chanukkah” – the eighth day representing the culmination of all the light and spirituality of all seven previous days.  On the eighth day the clarity of perception that one seeks on the first7 days of Channukah, suddenly becomes available.

After we lit our candles in the evening we went for a walk around the town. There were many menorah lit outside the houses all through the town, in  a 2000 year old  tradition of the Jewish people, and the night was full of soft vibrating light, peacefulness and warmth. Everywhere we went we met friends, wishing us happy Chanukkah. When we came back, our candles were still burning, and looking at them we felt connected to Maccabees, and even before that – to Aharon HaCohen, lighting the Menorah to affirm truth, goodness and G-dliness.

To those who don’t know, Tzfat seems like a quiet little town, but it is really quiet intense. The prayer is intense, most of the people we know are serious about living spiritual life, and G-d’s providence is evident even in a chance encounter. It is also a small town where people know each other and everyone helps everybody else. But after living in Maine, recently I have been feeling a need for a little more privacy,  and as if an answer to my prayer, we were invited to a trip to Ibikur, only 10 minutes ride on a number 3 bus from our house, a name we never heard before. Ibukur is a North-Western suburb of Tzfat, it is located on top of one of the three mountains, that compose our town. It is higher than Central Tzfat where we live, and there is a major military listening station there. The neighborhood is named after the company that developed it, but it has an unintended Hebrew translation: “Don’t come here”, but we came anyway. Most of it is undeveloped, and is a big nature park, with a very long walking trail, which ends at a military listening station, followed by a 1500 foot drop into the Hula Valley. Also at the end of the trail is a cave with the graves of three great Talmudic scholars: Abaya, Rava, and Rav Papa.The views are spectacular: you can see Hula Valley, the Golan Heights, Lebanon, Syria, Kineret, and a lot of cows.It’s good to know that there is such a place close by, where it is easy to come often, to walk, meditate, and literally, see a big picture!Our excellent guide on this trip was Rabbi Yossi Reis, a native Israeli resident of Tzfat,  who speaks perfect English, and available if anybody is interested in a tour in the North of Israel.

We did not know that on Passover in Tzfat this year we would “see” the face of Hashem.

There is an intense feeling of presence of G-d here, and to a large degree it is manifested through Jewish people, as it often does, when there is unity.

It was felt even during the week leading to Passover, with the atmosphere of growing excitement. Than on the eve of Passover (Friday this year,)  the city suddenly became totally quiet. It was unlike a regular Friday with its festive atmosphere of approaching Shabbos, and Shabbos melodies playing everywhere before candle lighting. But Friday before Passover was eerily quiet while it became cold with strong winds making the clouds move very fast  –  you could feel something momentous was going to happen… 

And then it came – with prayer in the shul, Passover seder, and Chol HaMoed – all of it full of joy, unity and warmth of people sharing with each other. Everywhere we went we felt very welcome and close to other people. And Matza never tasted that good – we can not get enough of it!

Our seder was with a lively Israeli friends’ family, which was most of all about experience of Exodus, with everybody at the table, kids and grown-ups, telling the story loudly with a lot of acting and gesticulation. It was loud, wild and fun.  

Next day after the shul service we expected to have a lunch with another couple – recent olim from England. We joined them in their shul – a small sephardic congregation, called Alyah.  After the service one of the leaders of that shul – a Maroccan man dressed like a prince in white and gold – invited all four of us to join his family for kiddush. We followed him through the narrow alleys of Old City, until he opened one of the narrow doors, behind which we were surprised to see a huge room with three stone domes, lit with bright blue LED-s, and a beautiful inner courtyard. A big table was set like for a wedding. Inside there was a large Maroccan clan and their guests, all of them revolving around the head of the family -“Maroccan prince” who invited us. He seated us next to him, and made sure we have enough food and drink. After the kiddish he would not let us go, insisting we stay for lunch.There was a lot of singing, Divrei Torah, stories and laughter. We left four hours later.

Then on the first day of Chol HaMoed our Israeli friend came to pick us up to join his family at the picnic and barbecue in the forest near Tzfat, in a beautiful location, next to the cave of a famous medieval Rabbi, where there was barbecue, singing, good time…

There were other interesting encounters, visiting new places, etc, and the weather has been perfect.

Even a small part of what we experienced would be “Dayeinu” – enough for us… but  Passover week is not over yet, and there is still more to come… 

Approaching Passover is very visible in Tzfat. After the beginning of Nissan many places of learning and work have Passover break (all our classes stopped too until after the Holiday week.) Everybody talks about seder plans, all stores display kosher for Passover products, households are preoccupied with cleaning, and there is a happy and excited atmosphere. A fresh bright blue paint appeared overnight all over Old City on some doors, gates, railings. We can not figure out how they decide where to paint those bright blue patches of blue color that are so characteristic of Tzfat.These are signs of approaching Holiday visible to everybody, but Eber had an opportunity to see what is below the surface – a glimpse of the beating of the heart of our people.We ordered matza from the Breslov community, and Sunday night we were waiting for our friend to pick Eber up in his car to drive to the distribution place. When the friend knocked at our door, it was almost 10 pm.Together they drove to the distribution point in the industrial area, which has a piece of land donated by the city of Tzfat to the Breslov community. The distribution was held in the portable school house, which was full from bottom to top with large boxes of Matza. Everywhere you could see there were Breslov Hasidim, crowding, greeting each other, waiting to get their order. That was special and very expensive Matza, but the price was significantly subsidized by an unknown benefactor, so people could afford it.When they got their orders, it was after 11:30 pm. The friend asked Eber if he would not mind to stop at the Lelov shul to pick up the food donated for his daughter, who has 5 kids.When they arrived at Lelov, they saw a huge crowd of people, cars full of food, boxes with eggs, vegetable, juice, fruits etc; people loading  food in the carts and cars, and the atmosphere was lively and boisterous. This was a distribution center of food for Passover for poor Jewish families which are many in Tzfat, often with many children and very little money, especially for Passover, when everything is very expensive. All the food was donated by other Jews in the community and friends of the Tzfat Jewish community abroad. There was a long wait time, so Eber decided to walk home. On the way, passing the shul of Sanz Hasidim – he saw another distribution center of food for poor families – boxes with grape juice and all kinds of foods.The task of providing poor families with food for Passover continues throughout this whole week, and this morning the Breslov community was distributing fruits and vegetables to poor families.This is the Hagada of Pesach coming alive: “All who are hungry – let them come and eat.”