Even Secular Tel Aviv Shuts Down For Shabbat. It’s A Powerful Antidote To Consumerism.
Illustration: Woman on Tel Aviv street on Yom Kippur. Image by gettyimages
By Diana Shaw Clark August 9, 2019
There are days when it’s possible to feel that Tel Aviv is just any city anywhere in the world. There are quarters that feel like Paris, and one part of town that reminds me of Milan. But not on Fridays, Tel Aviv becomes less sophisticated urban scene and more a demolition derby.
Picture the rush for the buffet at the last wedding you went to. And imagine Pamplona’s yearly running of the bulls. Now you’ve got it.
At home Shabbat is something we regulate –or not—for ourselves. Here, the government regulates it for us. The law forbids shopkeepers to open on the Sabbath upon pain of penalty, and most close for the duration at between 1 and 4 pm. Mini markets can stay open, but regardless of one’s degree of orthodoxy, nothing says blasphemy like showing up at Shabbat supper with something from the AM PM convenience store.
During last week’s Friday frenzy I saw a woman dash for the door of my local Supershili. She didn’t make it. Set on a timer, the unyielding door clenched her arm like a Doberman with a rag doll. Inside, the closing up crew glanced her way. They’d seen it all before—last Friday and likely all Fridays before that. She could wait. Or more to the point, she would wait.
A little further up the street, I saw yet another shopper try to wedge herself into a shop although the show shutting door left her barely an inch to squeeze through. By setting her foot parallel to the door jamb, she’d managed to get that much of herself inside when a security guard came out a side entrance, grabbed her by the coat collar, lifted her off the ground and set her down a yard from the store.
If this were the only side of Shabbat, you were to see in Israel, you’d have reason to wonder why would want to live in a place where they’re forced to observe it.
But I’ve come to learn that degrees of piety aside, Shabbat offers a chance to shake what I’ve come to consider the Curse of Convenience, to see that convenience comes at the expense of so much that elevates us as a species and distinguishes us as individuals. For the sake of convenience, we have allowed ourselves to be defined, and often come to define ourselves, by our habits as consumers—not just what we buy, but when, where and how.
Deprived of the chance to shop on Shabbat — Israelis live through the day. The tempo of life in my neighborhood slows to the pace of parents patiently walking alongside their toddler, holding her hand and stopping to examine whatever catches her eye. It takes on the temperament of cafes full of families and friends meeting over mezze, pita and shakshuka.
It’s a time to read, to plan, and most important to be — and to be someone other than a consumer.
It’s a day to celebrate the simple richness in life that, if there were not such a day, we might not otherwise know.
Diana Shaw Clark is a writer and activist in Washington, DC. She serves on the Forward Advisory Committee.
This is a moment of great uncertainty. Here’s what you can do about it.
We hope you appreciated this article. Before you go, we’d like to ask you to please support the Forward’s independent Jewish news this Passover. All donations are being matched by the Forward Board - up to $100,000.
This is a moment of great uncertainty for the news media, for the Jewish people, and for our sacred democracy. It is a time of confusion and declining trust in public institutions. An era in which we need humans to report facts, conduct investigations that hold power to account, tell stories that matter and share honest discourse on all that divides us.
With no paywall or subscriptions, the Forward is entirely supported by readers like you. Every dollar you give this Passover is invested in the future of the Forward — and telling the American Jewish story fully and fairly.
The Forward doesn’t rely on funding from institutions like governments or your local Jewish federation. There are thousands of readers like you who give us $18 or $36 or $100 each month or year.
Support our mission to tell the Jewish story fully and fairly.
