Shabbat with a gay couple during Tel Aviv Pride

During Tel Aviv Pride, I want to a Shabbat dinner at the home of a gay family.  I had found the opportunity during my advance research, through the website EatWith.com.  Now worldwide, Eat With is a program that began in Israel, first to enable newcomers who had recently made Aliyah (that is, for Jews to "ascend" or formally immigrate to Israel) to meet people and assimilate to Israeli society.  It is a challenge to create a unified society and culture when people arrive from every corner of the world, and there are extensive networks of classes and events to help people learn Hebrew, navigate governmental bureaus, find housing, work and schooling, etc.  This program seeks to provide an informal way for people to connect over a meal in a home.  It is also poplular simply to help people make friends in a big, sometimes anonymous, city.  The host sets a price on par with a night at a restaurant, and advertises the sort of meal and gathering.  Some are ethnic, "An Evening in Thailand," "Our Cinco de Mayo Fiesta," while other are more prosaic, "A Vegan Feast," "Wine and Song."  This was "Shabbat Dinner with Sammy and Dan."  I had paid online, and received directions to their apartment.

I was among the very first to arrive, and it quickly became apparent that most of the guests weren't necessarily from the program, but were friends from work and school.  Danny was working the kitchen, while Sammy was the social butterfly.  Their 5 year old son alternately played in his room and came out to mug for the guests, and played with those he knew.  Everyone was friendly, making sure to introduce themselves.  Most spoke some English, there were also French speakers, and everyone (but me!) spoke Hebrew.  Some were self-described "ex-pats" who had come to Israel to study or work, and then fallen in love, married and stayed.  So there was the linguistics student from Utah with his PhD student boyfriend, the PhD student in human rights and his boyfriend who worked with an NGO school system.  (Yes, there seemed to be a pattern.). Several straight families were there with toddlers, a few single people of each gender, and everyone seemed to be enjoying the company and the wine.

This was a secular Jewish gathering, though in fact I was not the only non Jew present. But as at the start of every Shabbat, the women present, sharing the role of "mother" lit the candles and said a prayer to which everyone responded Amen.  Then Sammy poured wine, everyone sang a blessing,  and Sammy had his son drink a bit before he finished it off.  They then handed the loaves to one of the men, who raised them up and said a blessing, to which everyone said Amen. Then, doubtlessly in good secular Jewish custom, Sammy pointed out which dishes were vegan and which were merely vegaterian. I was pretty sure kosher wasn't commented because it was simply assumed. I never knew vegan cooking could be so varied and so good!  I'd be hard pressed to describe the wide variety of dishes on the table, vegatibles and hummus and sauces, olives and pickles of different kinds of vegetables.  I filled my plate, and then helpful guests piled on yet more, "So you can eat like an Israeli."  They weren't shy about piling their plates high!

I moved around the apartment and small balcony a few times, making the small talk of "How do you know Sammy? Where are you from? What do you do?"  I learned that the most remarkable thing about being a Protestant clergy was that, unlike priests, I could have sexual relations.  Wouldn't have been in my Top Ten Points of Protestantism, but consider that nearly all the Christian's in Israel are either Roman (or Roman connected) or Greek (or other Orthodox) all of which require clerical celibacy.  I then had two very different conversations that made my evening full.

The first was with a woman who had grown up in Nazareth.  She is an Orthodox Catholic (Melkite), married to an American ex-pat. I asked about her family and life, and learned that during the 1948 Israeli War of Independence, they had tried to "run away" from the fighting to Lebanon, which border is about 20 miles away. But their truck broke down in the middle of the night, and they had to turn back, "which ended up being a good thing, because otherwise we would have ended up like my cousins living forever in a refugee camp in Lebanon."  Maybe even at the Sabra or Shatila camps, where in 1982 during the Lebanon war, Phalangist militias allied with Israel massacred between 350 and 3500 refugees.  Instead, she had gone to the Baptist school in Nazareth, "One of the very best schools in all of Israel."  She told me that as "a minority's within a minority (an Eastern Catholic Arab amid an Arab minority) she and others like her had to work extra hard.  "So you will see, we are the most successful in all Israel, the doctors and lawyer, so we prove ourselves."   Being a minority is harder, but she has a happy life. She was a delight to talk with.

A few minutes later another man sat by me. I'd beeen enjoying the antics of his toddler daughter all evening.  Now he was a man on a mission.  "What you need to know about us Israelis are that we are very direct and will tell you just what we think," he opened.  "The 1967 War was the most important war for us and for our self-understanding."  He told me that before the war everyone was terrified, "We all thought we were going to die."  There were Egypt, Syria, Lebanon and Jordan all set to invade, the tension was high for a month before the war, and at its narrow point it was only 9 miles for Jordan to reach the ocean and cut the country in two.  "The country had only lived for 19 years, our leaders had all escaped Hitler's Europe and the death camps. We were going to die.  We had lived just to come here to die? What were we to do but fight?"   This was the week of the 50th annivesary of the war, there had been both celebrations and protests of the outcome.  "How old were you during the war, I asked.  He told me he was not yet born, he was born in 1983.  Hmmm.   "So we fought, and the Arabs threw down their weapons and ran.  We learned that we could be strong.  And never would we be afraid again."  He went on to tell me that "Obama, he ruined everything.  Syria, Libya, he stirred up the Palestinians.  It's a mess!  But we will not give in."  Trump, on the other hand "Understands us, that we will take care of ourselves first. He's the kind of American friend we need."  During this, his wife shot him the "It's time to leave, dear" eye a couple of times as the party was breaking up, but I ended up having to end the discussion, thank him for sharing his point of view with me, and take my leave of the host.

As rough as that last discussion felt, I was completely glad I'd gone to the dinner.  There were others I'd loved to have talked to (the PhD student in human rights, what did that mean for him? And what a about the handsome Frenchman?).  What was fascinating was that all in one dinner party were so many divergent stories, both those I recounted above had been talking amicably to each other at different points.

Pilgrimage is being present to those God puts before you, the pleasant and the opinionated, the fluent English speaker and the discussion in broken world and hand gestures. I hope to find more opportunities for these unprogammed spontaneous encounters.