By Sophie Gordon
Tzfat.
Breathing a certain spiritual energy and intentionality. A spirituality unlike one in Bnei Brak or Mea Shearim. It is unique to its kind; coated in Jewish mysticism, perhaps reflecting the residents of the dominion. The city attracts English speaking olim, mostly spiritually lost individuals who found solace in the sweet and ever-embracing city.
Isolated from city life, Tzfat is an island unto itself, cast in the mountains in the Northern region of Israel; a geographic outsider to Israeli culture. The city breeds it own culture: one that was founded centuries before, steeped in the history of Sephardic rabbis, sages, and poets escaping the Spanish Inquisition. It was home to the second century Rabbi Shimon Bar-Yochai, author of the Zohar, the central Kabbalist text. The refugees’ new home became a hub for Jewish Torah learning, a place cultivating love between Human and Creator. It was a place of new way of thinking about the Torah, that which was acquired through word of mouth and received through oral tradition.
On Friday afternoon in Jewish homes worldwide there is a shift from the mundane to the sacred. The streets of Tzfat reflect this phenomenon. Friday the town is out preparing for the coming Shabbat. Children run last minute errands for their parents. The smell of baked goods ruminate the air.
As tourists, we try to keep up with this frenzy. We innately become stressed simply witnessing the mini chaos flooding the small alley ways of Tzfat. It is almost as if we are witnessing a circus. A scene quite entertaining for the onlooker, however understandingly hectic for the performer.
The sun sets, bringing a new atmosphere onto the city. No longer preparing for Shabbat: a new reality transforms the streets. A different mini chaos. The car-free cobllestone streets fill with the pitter-patter of footsteps. Families are racing with alacrity to their chosen synagogue. Men in long black coats, rabbit fur hats and taut, shiny earlocks; the women in turbans, a preferred hair covering, in modest blouses and long-flowing skirts, many with four or more children in tow.
The chazzan ushers in Shabbat with a beautiful song: a voice that is a clear and strong. The residents sing all as one. Because Shabbat is what carries Tzfat along. The men form a heimish dancing circle, somewhat reminiscent to the traditional Congo line performed at bar and bat mitzvahs. The women uncomfortably clap along to the beat of the male steps.
The Kabbalat Shabbat concludes and the congregation dives right into the Maariv service. The rumbling of stomachs sets the tone of pace for the concluding prayer service, in anticipation of the hot matzah ball soup and delicious potato kugel.
Following the prayer service, families and couples are reunited outside the synagogue walls, making their ways back to their respective abodes.
Friday night zemers are sung in-between the dinner courses. Words of Torah are interspersed and shared throughout the lengthy meal.
Shabbat in Tzfat is unparalleled to Shabbat in other locations, even in other parts of Israel. The spirituality of the city is heightened on the day of rest. A calming energy and tranquility ignited in each individual. Tzfat is a glimpse and paradigm shift into a world where Heaven and Earth collide. Tzfat: an enchanting and mystifying paradox, a league of its own.
