Tel Aviv Bulletin: New Year's Edition (In Which, for once, the Dog Manages to Build Bridges Instead of Noisily Destroying Them)

Shana Tova, everyone. It's the second day of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and as I walked the dog early this morning we saw many black-hatted Haredim (literally trans.”God-Fearers,” the Israeli umbrella terms for members of all the Ultra-Orthodox sects) passing through my quiet neighborhood on their way to Shul to observe the first of the Yanim Noraim (trans “The Days of Awe,” which sounds way better than the “High Holidays,” right?). Almost all the married men clutched the hands of their young sons, little boys in freshly-ironed white shirts still rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Older men slowly strolled in groups of threes or fours, some walking arm-in-arm and others leaning on canes.

Everyone had their tallis, carefully folded and protected in a waterproof plastic pocket, tucked under their arms. The quiet stream of men all wore the sober Orthodox rekelech (long black blazer, suit pants, and white button-down shirt), slip-on black leather dress shoes (to avoid having to touch shoes or tie knots on shabbat). Most of the mens' hats were black felt fedoras, though a few wore brimmed hats with a rounded top, and the boys wore plain kippot (the small flat skullcaps we call by their Yiddish name, yarmulke, in the States).

Their conservative black-and-white uniforms, worn in accordance with the Orthodox belief in bodily modesty, suddenly made me acutely conscious of my own clothing-a white cotton t-shirt (ironically decorated with a photo of a nearly-naked, proudly flexing muscle man from the 1920's) and short green boxer shorts I'd worn to bed the night before, topped-off with only a pair of ersatz Ray-Bans and a messy ponytail. I thought of the dressing-down I'd witnessed at the Kotel (the Western Wall) just days ago during our school trip to Jerusalem. A fur hat-topped Haredi in a long silk coat, and a gray beard had happened upon two female tourists who'd removed the dark blue wraps they'd been given by security guards at the Wall's entrance to reveal their above-the-knee shorts and shoulder-baring tank tops. Incensed, he harangued them, jabbing his finger angrily at them as they walked backwards, uncomprehending, away from his shouting. A younger, Modern Orthodox woman flew to the women's rescue, speaking to them softly as they hastily tied the borrowed wraps back into skirts and shawls. At the same time, two Kotel security guards and a younger soldier in field fatigues surrounded the older man, walking him in the opposite direction as he continued to scold and complain.

Wincing, I turned the corner at the end of my block, intending to make a low-profile loop before returning home. Of course, I immediately met with a new clump of Haredim, who wordlessly, without eye contact, parted down the middle to permit me to pass through. Consumed by the worry that I'd just been judged as some pajama-clad Jezebel, it took me a minute to notice that a young dad and his two young sons were trailing several meters behind the group. But the little boys locked eyes with Michael immediately, and the younger of the two, still chubby with baby fat, called out, “Chamud! Kaaaay-lev! Kaaaaay-lev!” (aprox trans.”Oh, Cute! Doggy, doggy!). Hesitant but smiling, I leaned over, scooped Michael up in my arms, and squatted down to introduce him to the boys. With a nod from their dad, the two carefully stroked Michael (who's always been way calmer and more polite with kids), and touched his soft ears. The littlest one squealed happily when Michael politely licked his proffered fingers. I set Michael down on the sidewalk and stood up before waving “Bye-bye” to the boys. Their father's smiling eyes met mine, and with a nod, he wished me “Shana Tova Umetukah,” which I'd just learned in Ulpan meant “A good and sweet year.”

I headed back home with Michael straining at his leash, laughing at myself as I realized the tune of that dumb song from Oaklahoma!, “The Farmer and the Cowman Should Be Friends,” was playing in my head.