A Jew Walks into a Store

Finding normalcy (sort of) in shopping

Comfort me with cans & produce.

I’m not sure what to do with the grief and fear that have followed me around since the end days of Sukkos. So I trick them here and there, stealing a quick breath of fresh air before they pounce again.

Earlier this week, Miro and I tried, too. He needed shoes and I had to replace my watch battery. We both wanted to sit somewhere for a cup of coffee and be out in the autumn sun. First, we took care of the watch. My phone rang as we parked so he threw a baseball cap over his yarmulka and ran ahead. He’s a frequent customer there, but I’d never been. What a greeting I got! The proprietor, an older gentleman, not Jewish, shouted, “Baruch Haba!” with great enthusiasm from the far end of the counter.

But, Hmmm… I thought. Miro said he’s never received so much as a “Shalom.”

Just an hour before, I’d waffled over what to wear on my head as I dressed at home. My usual tichel, or head wrap, which stands out from a mile away? Or a sheitel, a wig, that would allow me to slip unnoticed into a crowd. Isn’t that what we should be doing here now, trying to flit by without being seen? To be safe, under the radar?

I deferred to the wig, though in the end, it did not matter. My features? An aura? Somehow, my Jewessness was evident.

“Brucha nimtzeit,” I told him with a big smile. I’m blessed to be here, I replied.

I’m blessed to be who I am.

At the market

Another outing, this time to the grocery store.

It felt almost normal to shop for food staples until a woman from the community passed me and suggested I stock up on canned goods just in case. “Things aren’t going well for the Jews. We have to be ready.”

Another acquaintance greeted me further down the produce aisle. She told me her son is on an army base somewhere in Israel, but he’s supposed to get married in Jerusalem a few weeks from now. She’s hoping her flight won’t be cancelled. I mentioned that I’ve got a ticket to visit my son in Jerusalem around the same time. Then a third person joined us with her story. It was a surreal huddle, but I appreciated feeling so connected.

By the time I stood in line at the register, I had acquired several bottles of oil and eight cans of diced tomatoes not on my shopping list, figuring I couldn’t go wrong. Just in case of who knows what, G-d forbid. I’d also found a new bath mat — another kind of security, so that was on theme.

And tucked right above my heart was the mother’s invitation to her son’s wedding — “If, G-d willing, you’re in Jerusalem then,” she said.

I hope we’ll both be.

How I’m (sort of) keeping busy

I’m trying very hard to stay off social media and away from the news. I am torn — between feeling the need to bear witness to the hard stuff and knowing my heart can’t take it. On the other hand, assorted uplifting stories as well as videos of Jews of all stripes united in the feeding of the troops have me crying in a cathartic, hopeful kind of way. My friend Riva says it’s the Jewish mother in me. So I allow myself 15 minutes of that a day.

Several friends sent me this story of a grandmother crocheting hats for the soldiers and it made me want to pack up my hook and a suitcase of wool and fly to her door. If only we could stitch our way to normalcy and safety and peace, I’d tell her as she welcomed me in. In the meantime, I’m crocheting afghans over here as a way to release some of the worry through my hands.

I’m praying a lot, too. Tehillim, or Psalms, and special prayers for the safety of Israel and its soldiers, and the return of the captives. Here’s a link to a prayer to recite at Shabbos candle-lighting. (Thanks to Juliet for creating the link.). Now seems like a very good to time to talk things over with G-d.

I wish I could say that reading has helped, but I can’t concentrate. Anna Berest’s The Postcard, a novel of one family’s history during the Holocaust in France, finally came in from the library, and I’m hoping to dig deep into it over Shabbos. We’ll see if that helps me reset.

And I’m going to bake challah on Friday. That’s always a good distraction.

Looking for a book?

Check out these titles by Israeli women writers I know. I haven’t read them all yet, but what a perfect time to support their work. More to follow. Watch this space.

Sarah Ansbacher - Passage from Aden: Stories from a Little Museum in Tel Aviv Jennifer Lang - Places We Left Behind: a memoir in miniature Janice Weizman - Our Little Histories Julie Zuckerman - The Book of Jeremiah

If you happen to see me in the market

At a time like this, don’t underestimate the power of a kind word, a hug, a huddle, an “I know it’s hard. I’m sorry.” I’m ready to share them, too. Just stop me in the aisles. Non-Jewish friends especially. We’re not doing great. We need the support.

Let all our kindnesses add up. Let them storm the gates of Heaven.

Stay in touch

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Wishing you a light-filled Shabbos.

Love,

Merri