YSMZ, not YMG. YNOT?

The sabbath has once again come and gone, the spirituality, prayers, and burnt cholent now but a distant memory.

I am typing this message at Yeshivat Sha'arei Mevaseret Zion, the yeshiva of Leor Hackel, among others. Some of these others include Gabe Miller, Carmiel Schoenfeld, Asher Begin, and Dani Wizenfeld of Los Angeles. Just as some of the faces here are familiar, so too is the yeshiva itself: I visited here over Sukkot, and I was also here Thanksgiving of 2004 visiting Max "Mordechai" Rabin.

Shabbat here was pleasant, at the same time similar and different to YMG. The tunes to Kabbalat Shabbat were the same, but the spirit, dancing, and unity felt during the prayers of Ma'aleh Gilboa were lacking. The menu featured the same chickens, cholents, and songs, but had a different overall aura from the atmosphere at YMG that is, I guess, indescribable. The schedules were near identical, but the free time (spent sleeping here) is different from the reading, chess, and card games up north. Perhaps the difference is as simple as this: here, it is all Americans, spending Shabbat in their standard and near-identical American ways; at Ma'aleh Gilboa, the heterogenous culture of Americans and Israelis (and different types of Americans and Israelis at that) creates a pluralistic environment a la Genesis at Brandeis (summer 2004) or even Shalhevet, at times.

Shabbat is now over, and soon I head to Jerusalem for a Saturday night on the town (relatively rare for me). I am going to an engagement party, about I will write tomorrow, hopefully.

Shavua tov.

PS: Tina Epstein, if you are reading this (and undoubtedly you are)-- thank you for the oatmeal-raisin cookies. They were delicious; even the crumbs-- and there were lots of them-- had that special taste of homemade love, even if it's not my home.