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Isabel Maxwell is President of ISM & Associates, specializing in assisting
Israeli companies with their cross-border expansions; She is Chair of the
Social Entrepreneurs Fellowship Program of Israel Venture Network; a
member of the Board of Governors of the Peres Center for Peace and a
Director of the American Friends of the Yitzhak Rabin Center. She has been dividing her time between Israel and California for the past 9 years.
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By Isabel Maxwell
October 14, 2005
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| Biking on the Ayalon Freeway facing south (Isabel Maxwell) |
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'Twas the Night before Yom Kippur... and all through the city.... not a creature was stirring. Except me.
My first Yom Kippur in Israel. Already as the clock ran up on 5 o'Clock on erev (the eve of) Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, the holiest day in the Jewish year, an eerie silence fell on the heart of the city. I should know: I was standing on the corner of Arlozorov and Dizengoff -- one of Tel Aviv's busiest intersections.
It was the beginning of a 25 hour fast and intensive prayer that marks this day in the Jewish calendar. And inside the houses, even the babel of voices of all the TV channels was blessedly silent, to be stilled until the end of the holiday the following evening.
Jews at this time of year are commanded to begin a self-examination and repentance, a process that culminates in the ten days of the Yamim Noraim ["Days of Awe"], beginning with Rosh Hashanah and ending with Yom Kippur. Even many secular Jews who don't observe any other holidays fast and attend synagogue. In Israel, a declared Jewish state, the public non-observance (eating, driving a motor vehicle) is taboo. On Yom Kippur there is no broadcast television, no public transportation. Even the airports are closed. There is no commerce of any kind in the Jewish areas.
Here are some snippets of the day: 6.30am on this Thursday morning -- the sounds of Yom Kippur ---- s i l e n c e. Not one car... but the whispering wind in the blue, blue sky. It is a gorgeous day. Soon enough will come the first sounds of the "Bicycle Festival" as this holiday has come to also be known by the more secular population of the city, who use the occasion to take to the streets on human-powered wheels.
But right now, at this dawn hour, not only the usual traffic noise sounds are gone, the energy of the streets feels completely different -- than that of the middle of any night for instance. It's the quiet of a city taking stock.
Soon enough the streets are filled with bicycles and skaters and parents getting their first real exercise in a year, puffing after their children -- all excitedly in the middle of the streets talking animatedly, riding higgledy piggeldly, laughter of the older children and shrieks from the little ones as they taste their new found freedoms testing out the roads they have never been allowed to go near before -- "Aba!" "Ima!" Daddy! Mommy!
The traffic lights are madly blinking stop! Go! Stop! Go! And of course, no one is taking any notice. The birds are calling to each other above the roof tops. Caw caw!! Chirp chirp!! Wooooo wooooooo goes the dry north wind. You can even hear crickets by the usually bustling beachfront promenade. it is all quite delightful.
11am. I roll my own bike out and head north to see a friend near Bene Brak. The long stretch of Rokah Boulevard, usually filled with streams of hurrying cars and taxis honking their horns without relief, is totally empty except for all the bicycles and roller skaters with their dogs panting galllantly along on leashes, trying to catch up.
The new Rabin Center of Leadership and Reconciliation with its beautiful and symbolic 'white doves for the roof', commands the eyes just before the turn-offs to the Ayalon Freeway. It is at its last stages of completion, for it must be ready in time for its opening by former President Clinton in early November.
As I cycle pensively by, I can't help thinking that if only the Reconciliation that the Rabin legacy stands for -- and that is so much part of this day of Atonement -- could be by ALL Peoples towards ALL Peoples, not least by Israel to its neighbors, but vice versa too!
I turn up the entrance onto the Ayalon South, just for kicks - the freeway is so eerie, but wonderful, without cars, truly this must be the only blessed day when there are at least no deaths from car accidents in Israel! I cross the lanes and doodle around and then way in the distance over towards Ramat Gan as I look North, I spot one single vehicle speeding up towards me -- it has red lights flashing and I realize it is an ambulance, the only kind of vehicle along with Police ones, allowed to drive on this holy day.
I turn back down the on-ramp and cycle on towards my destination -- It's really hot now and I am definitely drinking -- no disrespect intended to the Day -- but my body demands respect too!
After a long cool drink and a shower at my friends, I head back down the road homeward bound. Past the never-flagging cycling children and their clearly-flagging parents, pedaling softly through the vast intersections at Namir and Rokach, and now twisting left to cycle the rest of the way along the cycle paths of the lazy Haryakon River.
I'm hungry, and I look forward to the night and the upcoming holiday of Succoth and the real start of the New Year to come.
Views expressed by the author do not
necessarily reflect those of israelinsider.
 
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