May 29, 4:10 p.m. I am returning to the Gan HaPaamon (Liberty Bell Garden) municipal parking lot after a very depressing meeting with someone. The day before, my 2018 Toyota Landcruiser was serviced at an official dealership in Givat Shaul, and they told me that there might be some lingering problem with the airbag warning light. They also told me that I needed to balance the front tires.

Adjacent to the parking lot was a Sonol gas station, and right behind it was a small auto garage, tire shop, and carwash. I drove the car in and told the manager, who called himself Mohammed Siam, to balance the tires. He opened the lid to the engine (why?!) and started poking and yanking around things, making me a bit nervous. Then he told me that there was a problem with the airbag indicator light. I got the impression from him that the light was just a symptom of a much more serious problem. He invited me to sit in his office, and in a few minutes he would give me an estimate for the cost.

In the small, messy office, there was a desk with a sign that read, “The BOSS,” and behind it a picture of an older man posing at a similar type of joint. I gathered it was probably his father. (I was right.)

Mohammed came back and told me that he had uncovered a serious problem and that it was dangerous to drive the car in its present state. Due to my depressive state of mind, my thinking was murky. I imagined the airbag inflating while I was driving at high speeds and causing me to crash, G-d forbid. He said it would take a few hours to fix but it was too late to wait for the car today. Instead, I should leave the car with him overnight, and he would have it for me the next day.

Chol Hamoed Pesach. My wife and I joined Shmuel Chaim Naiman for a foraging walk in the hills outside of Ramat Beit Shemesh. He is the son of Rabbi Abba Zvi and Mrs. Rochel Naiman of Baltimore. Rabbi Abba Zvi was my classmate in TA since second grade.

Walking the paths through the fields, we learned about wild oats, carrots, figs, and other plants. We learned about spiritually connecting to the physicality of Eretz Yisrael. Around our group of Anglos, we saw Israeli families, some of them very chareidi, also trekking in the hills. Is there a better way to spend Chol Hamoed?

The finale of the tour was the story of David and Goliath, who fought it out in the Elah Valley below us. Also visible dotting the surrounding hills were rising apartment complexes. Here was Israel – history, nature, and rebirth – all in one foraging walk.

When someone visits Israel, they want to experience its unique atmosphere of kedusha, so it is only natural to think of spending Shabbos in Jerusalem. Who would think of spending Shabbos in secular Tel Aviv? Well, I did, and this was my experience.

My friend Chazkel was curious about a small outreach kehilla in the old neighborhood of Neve Tzedek. Neve Tzedek, once home to Rabbi Avraham Yitzchok Hacohen Kook, zt”l, and other saintly Jews, was Tel Aviv’s first neighborhood. Over the years, it has become very gentrified, its stylish architecture in stark contrast with some ultramodern skyscrapers. Some of the side streets reminded me of Manhattan’s West Village neighborhood.

Chazkel, a real wiz at finding fascinating things on the internet, found the following announcement for Kehillat Hhaslat (Chasalat is an acronym for all the types who gravitate here: chareidi, chiloni, chasidi, Sefardi, Lita’i, and Teimani.)

Who goes to Iceland? Isn’t it near Greenland?

It wasn’t until recently that Iceland has become a general tourist attraction. It’s in the sub-arctic, sandwiched between England and Greenland. I had been told by people who have been there that it is a land of geysers, waterfalls, and lava fields. Although the pictures they showed me were amazing, I was still hesitant to go. I love trees, but Iceland lost its trees when Viking settlers cut down the forests that covered one-quarter of the countryside. But after being grounded by Covid for two years, and after finding that there were kosher tours of Iceland, I decided to visit two countries in one summer, first Iceland and then Switzerland. I had a vague sense that Iceland, even if it left me breathless, would leave me feeling empty.

I live in Rechavia, the same neighborhood of the Prime Minister’s official residence. Every Saturday night they would come – thousands of protesters marching up Ramban Street waving Israeli flags. They are opposed to judicial reform. They call for the protection of democracy, protecting minorities from the tyranny of the majority. I was amazed at the size of these demonstrations and the determination of the marchers, who came week after week to demonstrate. It was literally Tel Aviv converging on Jerusalem – large secular crowds in Jerusalem the likes of which I have never seen, thousands of Israeli flags in the streets. My secular neighbors also joined them, bringing their own flags. I saw Maya and her husband, who live one building over, and the young lady, Shachar, who lives right below me, a physics major at Hebrew University.

“This Matzah that we eat for what reason? Because the dough of our fathers did not have time to become leavened before the King of kings, the Holy One, blessed be He, REVEALED Himself to them and redeemed them.”

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There are times of the year that are so special they are etched into our memory forever. Pesach is one of them. The pre-Pesach cleaning, the burning of the chometz, and the smells coming out of the kitchen. I would like to reminisce about the Passovers, especially the Seders, in my life.