It was another perfect spring Jerusalem day, just the right temperature that I like before the weather gives way to the sweltering Middle East summer when you feel yourself baking in the sun.
It was the kind of a day that touched you with a gentle breeze, and the day was rich with the gold warmth of the sun — the kind of heat you can meander in for hours.
Still, the crowds were overflowing, considering it was Monday and not the pre Shabbat shopping of a Thursday or Friday.
Shavuot was just a few days away. I saw girls walking the streets carrying bouquets of sheaves of bleached wheat tied in raffia and other slim colorful flower bouquets. Holiday preparations were certainly underway, filling the air with a sense of anticipation.
Yet, it still didn’t quite explain the huge crowds filling downtown Jerusalem on a Monday — Shavuot was still four days away.
Then it hit me. Of course.
The previous chapter of the Iran war ended on the final day of Israel’s Passover, “Shevi’i shel Pesach,” just under seven weeks earlier. What a pervasive sense of tenuousness ever since. Officially, a cease fire, which leaves us thinking, will the war resume? If so, when?
No one really knows. But the other day we were told to have our Home Front Command apps on. Translation: be prepared for resumption of war.
There you have it.
Looking around, people seemingly carefree and happy, you wouldn’t think that Israelis are on the brink of war again. The understanding of that possibility seems only to have fostered a deeper desire to savor these sweet spring days — to live them to the fullest.
That must be the explanation for the huge crowds I’m encountering jostling for space at the MachneYuda shouk market stalls, the fabric shops I popped into, the cafe I met up with a friend at, the holy sites I visited, and the walks I have taken in Beit Zayit’s nature reserve, replete with growing wildflowers and herbs.
It’s not just happy go-lucky spring days, though. While officially there is a ceasefire, wrenchingly Israel is still contending with painful twists and turns, still burying her dead. Maoz Yisrael Raknati, just 24, betrothed to be married to Ronit a month hence, was buried instead of married.
These sweet seeming days, invisibly lean on these difficult news items and the sense of uncertainty.
“So, where will you be for the war?” I hear two women saying at the cafe table next to mine. A question asked so casually. It had the same resonance of, ‘So where will you be for Shavuot?”
Our Home Front Command apps are turned on and the recent ghosts of the piercing ballistic missile sirens returning — an imminent possibility.
“I don’t think the war will hit until after Shavuot,” the two women continue.
In my grocery cart at the supermarket, side by side lie rich cheeses and other special delicacies intended for my dairy Shavuot holiday cooking and baking, but also a stash of essential pre-war staples.
At the shouk, I pass counters of gourmet cheeses sliced in all shapes and sizes, stands of tall halva cakes on a carousel turning like the burners showcasing Middle Eastern pastries, whirling around the center metal teapot; I pass mounds of olives, rose petals, dates, warm spices, and endless abundance of colorful fresh fruits and vegetables from the farm. The musical soundtrack is Noam Bettan’s Eurovision win. Over and over, it’s “Michelle!” with many of us locking eyes, smiling, as from time to time, we can hear shop goers humming his catchy song.
Not only did this song and victory tremendously lift the morale of Israelis and serve as a bit of escapism from the tense and tough uncertainty; not only did Noam Bettan’s comportment as a representative of Am Yisrael truly inspire — be it in his poise as he faced hostility and boos for representing Israel, be it his public recitation of the as he tensely awaited results, and just his overall grace in contending with a fraught situation — not only all that. But his talent and execution brought Jewish pride and a rare moment of unity.
More than anything, this musical moment modeled to us how we navigate the world when we contend with an onslaught of hate: We sing. That’s what we do.
Yet here we are again. Another holiday eve. Israel on the brink of war.
The Oct. 7 massacre transpired on the holiday of Simhat Torah. The last living hostages were all returned this past Hashanah Rabbah. The current cease fire was brokered on the last day of Passover, and the current iteration of the Oct 7th war we are living through was launched on “Shabbat Zachor,” the Shabbat preceding Purim.
Now we are on the brink of Shavuot. On the brink of war again.
Yet you wouldn’t know it from the teeming Jerusalem streets. Or perhaps, it’s a tell tale sign?
Israelis living life to its fullest, making up for lost opportunities, when just last month we huddled in bomb shelters but now embracing the gift of “normal living” before we might again be called to obey the pierce of the Home Front Command’s warning of an upcoming missile siren.
I feel so grateful for these more peaceful carefree spring days, as we await to see what comes next.
© IJN 2026