My Jerusalem - Jerusalem of headquarters. This is the city that began with the song: "Jerusalem of Gold," which we would sing in my childhood on every possible stage, and continued with "I will not come to Jerusalem of the above until I come to Jerusalem of the below." by Avraham Fried.
My Jerusalem - This is the Shabbat march to the Western Wall, without thinking twice, even if it takes an hour and a half or two hours, just to feel my feet leading me there, just to illustrate what is written in the Psalms: "Our feet shall stand within your gates, O Jerusalem," and already the whole week looks different.
My Jerusalem This is the clear, wonderful mountain air. The same air that a person coming from the lowlands wouldn't understand, the same air that makes you addicted to it, breathe in its scent and even wear a sweater for it on a hot summer night.
My Jerusalem It's about being "Jerusalem" and feeling "at home" wherever you go, even though Jerusalem has expanded and stretched and there is no connection between neighborhoods.
My Jerusalem It's like walking down the street and noticing that everyone says to you: "Hello"! Then it turns out that not only is he not your neighbor next door, he's actually from a distant neighborhood, but he knows you from somewhere, because you're both "Jerusalemites.".
My Jerusalem This is Jerusalem, where in the amusement park you can find a woman like me sitting with a pen and paper to write another column, article or story inspired by the pure Jerusalem atmosphere. Where we see a Rosh Yeshivah sitting with a young man, his protégé, on a wooden bench in the garden, both of them sweetening a secret, and a class of infants from Rabban's school has just finished a Torah lesson on a clear morning in the garden square, and its song: "And build Jerusalem, the holy city" from the blessing of food can be heard from afar and penetrates the soul.
My Jerusalem It is a neighborhood where I live that is adorned with dozens of holy and pure yeshivas. Young men of Hamed study their Talmud, and at the end of Shavuot, they go out to dance in the streets of a city. A dance of Torah.
A dance of Torah in wondrous Jerusalem.
This is my Jerusalem! Jerusalem from above!
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