When someone visits Israel, they want to experience its unique atmosphere of kedusha, so it is only natural to think of spending Shabbos in Jerusalem. Who would think of spending Shabbos in secular Tel Aviv? Well, I did, and this was my experience.

My friend Chazkel was curious about a small outreach kehilla in the old neighborhood of Neve Tzedek. Neve Tzedek, once home to Rabbi Avraham Yitzchok Hacohen Kook, zt”l, and other saintly Jews, was Tel Aviv’s first neighborhood. Over the years, it has become very gentrified, its stylish architecture in stark contrast with some ultramodern skyscrapers. Some of the side streets reminded me of Manhattan’s West Village neighborhood.

Chazkel, a real wiz at finding fascinating things on the internet, found the following announcement for Kehillat Hhaslat (Chasalat is an acronym for all the types who gravitate here: chareidi, chiloni, chasidi, Sefardi, Lita’i, and Teimani.)

Who goes to Iceland? Isn’t it near Greenland?

It wasn’t until recently that Iceland has become a general tourist attraction. It’s in the sub-arctic, sandwiched between England and Greenland. I had been told by people who have been there that it is a land of geysers, waterfalls, and lava fields. Although the pictures they showed me were amazing, I was still hesitant to go. I love trees, but Iceland lost its trees when Viking settlers cut down the forests that covered one-quarter of the countryside. But after being grounded by Covid for two years, and after finding that there were kosher tours of Iceland, I decided to visit two countries in one summer, first Iceland and then Switzerland. I had a vague sense that Iceland, even if it left me breathless, would leave me feeling empty.

I live in Rechavia, the same neighborhood of the Prime Minister’s official residence. Every Saturday night they would come – thousands of protesters marching up Ramban Street waving Israeli flags. They are opposed to judicial reform. They call for the protection of democracy, protecting minorities from the tyranny of the majority. I was amazed at the size of these demonstrations and the determination of the marchers, who came week after week to demonstrate. It was literally Tel Aviv converging on Jerusalem – large secular crowds in Jerusalem the likes of which I have never seen, thousands of Israeli flags in the streets. My secular neighbors also joined them, bringing their own flags. I saw Maya and her husband, who live one building over, and the young lady, Shachar, who lives right below me, a physics major at Hebrew University.

“This Matzah that we eat for what reason? Because the dough of our fathers did not have time to become leavened before the King of kings, the Holy One, blessed be He, REVEALED Himself to them and redeemed them.”

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There are times of the year that are so special they are etched into our memory forever. Pesach is one of them. The pre-Pesach cleaning, the burning of the chometz, and the smells coming out of the kitchen. I would like to reminisce about the Passovers, especially the Seders, in my life.

I had a bad case of cabin fever, especially after not being able – or willing – to leave Israel, where I live, on account of Covid. The last time I was in Switzerland was in 2019, which seemed like eons ago. I love Israel, and take whatever opportunities I can to enjoy its beautiful parks. But, like many Israelis, I needed to “break out.”

I got a call from Tourplus, a travel company that specializes in kosher tours for Orthodox Jews. They were offering a trip to Andorra – a little country somewhere in the Pyrenees Mountains. “What about Switzerland?” I asked.

“We haven’t organized anything for Switzerland this year. Granted, the Pyrenees are no match for the Swiss Alps, but it is beautiful and a lot cheaper.”

I had the privilege of interviewing Shimon Apisdorf at his apartment in the Katamon neighborhood of Jerusalem on May 18, 2022. I have three of his books, including the Passover Survival Kit, with its hilarious cover illustration of people asleep at the Seder table. Shimon Apisdorf is a writer, educator, and former publisher. He is affable and unassuming. But he is a man with big plans. Rabbi Apisdorf is not just a seeker, not just a visionary, but a doer.

With the rise of anti-Semitism in the United States and the Democratic party shifting towards the radical left, I began to wonder about the future of American Jewry. Looking at the beautiful, barren hills in Samaria and the Negev, I had daydreams about a nucleus from Baltimore being transplanted in Israel with its own institutions intact. When I heard that Shimon Apisdorf is working to make those hazy dreams of mine a reality, I was very excited to take on the assignment from the WWW to interview him.