And I can’t help but wonder: Is Torah really at the core of all this?
I want to hold on to idealism as I walk the streets of Jerusalem. We’re here for a summer wedding. It’s not just a quick vacation during which I’m chasing my tail; we’re getting a beautiful stretch of time in Eretz Yisrael. Sun streams everywhere, bright and thick.
I stand at the crosswalk and blink. Hundreds of avreichim crossing the road, seforim tucked under their arms. There’s electricity in the air, snatches of Torah in their conversations. I want to believe that all those young men, all those young couples, are here for this shining, exalted purpose.
But then I look at the other side of the street.
Restaurants open 20 hours a day. Waffles and smoothies and an entire store dedicated to French fries. European-style boutiques, American-style tech stores, endless options for shoes and sushi and spa treatments — all kosher, Jewish, tzugepast — far more than we have in our midsized American community back home.
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