The bus lines to get to Safed (Sefat), Israel before Shabbat were impossible. There I was a tiny (five feet one half inch) brown haired, green-eyed, non-Hebrew speaking seventeen year-old Jewish girl, waiting in line at the central bus station in Jerusalem. If you could even call it a line - it more resembled a crowd at a rugby match.
Why Safed? In my spiritual imagination it was where wild-eyed mystics roam the streets and with a glance fill your soul with endless revelation....where artists become inspired by simply viewing the ornamented Sephardic temples and gleaming hammered metal Torah scroll cases.....where domed roofs would carry my prayers higher and deeper....
