Sometimes it’s the little things: On my bus ride home from work yesterday (I worked a night shift so I was headed home at 7:00am), I heard a religious man before I saw him. I heard some morning prayers being chanted, not whispered on the public bus. I turned around to see an older man with long white peis - curls by the ears. He was huddled over his siddur, rocking back and forth, praying humbly, but publicly. Even though there is freedom of religion in America, this man is something you would never see.
That moment on the bus just reminded that I am in Israel…Israel. You may think that it’s obvious to me that I am away from home, but it often just feels like “away from home” and not necessarily “Israel.” Little reminders are refreshing.
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