In the Seattle Times, a paper not known for saying anything positive about Israel, an article that could best be labeled “A Young Shiksa in Israel.”
His wife welcomes us at the door with a polite gasp of disbelief before disappearing into the kitchen with a look not unlike panic on her face. Evidently, however, food multiplication is not limited to Cana, and moments later the crowded table is piled with enough food to feed a soccer team — challah, stuffed eggplants, sweet potatoes, stuffed grape leaves, cucumber salad, garlic chicken, homemade hummus, brisket, and more than enough wine. I eat for what feels like three hours before falling into a delicious-food-induced coma and resigning myself to the rabbi’s children, who gleefully decorate me — the only non-Jewish member of our party — with napkin holders and place settings.
Our incredible dinner at the rabbi’s house is actually, shockingly, not rare. It is, in fact, not only a widely held Jewish tradition, but also a perfect example of the overwhelming and endearing sense of familial community that characterizes this nation. Here’s what I mean: everyone here hitchhikes and, by and large, everyone picks up hitchhikers; kibbutzim, small socialist communities, pepper the countryside and welcome the itinerant traveler to stay for a night or a year in exchange for work; and, although no one seems to agree on politics, everyone is willing to listen to your opinions, so long as you listen to theirs.
I’ll leave it to my Israeli readers to discuss her interpretation of life in your country. But it’s an interesting read.