There
is a house on David Yellin St. that’s earned quite a reputation. Three stories
of solid white Jerusalem limestone sit behind a small white gate out front and
a garden above. It’s a narrow street, just a single lane. This little
street sits at the intersection of worlds.
A
half-kilometer to the south is the famous Jerusalem market, the “shuk”. All
manner of shops and restaurants and bars push their fruits and sweets on the
countless tourists streaming by. Even the Jerusalem folk navigate through the
performers, and the visitors, and crowds, every Friday to make Shabbat happen.
A little farther north is another big market street. Black hats, and white
shirts, and wigs, and heads scarves, distract from the fact that the people
here need to purchase food and clothes and support their families, as well.
Sandwiched between the fast pace of the modern world and fast pace of the
timeless world, are the people that are running about doing their errands and
living their lives.
There
are a number of houses on this little one-way road, some small, some grand,
some loud, some quiet, but none are quite like the white stone house with the
rooftop garden. This little house sits at the intersection of
worlds. Teachers in black and white, students in colored plaid, men with
great beards, boys with some or none, devoted chassidim and young
adults from the Western world, all together to learn a shared past and create
their future. A place where the old world gives birth to the new.
The
house is full to overflowing, feet running up and down and all around all day
long. There are classes and prayers and meals and late night
conversations. A place where people want to learn and grow and get in touch
with who they are. A place where success isn’t measured in fashion or fitness
or scholarliess, where proving yourself simply means showing up, both in body
and soul. A place that’s right here, in a time that’s right now, with a host of
souls all making real bonds.
The
house on David Yellin St. is a place where those who woke up one day and
realized they didn’t have to be like everyone else soon find themselves. It’s a
place run by people who serve others without submitting to them, who
demonstrate how to serve something other than yourself. The house is a boiler
room of sound, of passion, of fire. It’s a place hot enough to keep warm those
in distant lands.
It’s
also more than just pretty words. It’s a place where Jews come to learn about
being Jews. And where else will you find a yeshiva where Jews can sing ancient
melodies with all their heart in the basement one night and wake up for morning
yoga on the rooftop, the next? Where else will you learn the mystical insights
of simple Bible stories with black-coated chassidim with your fellow Western-born
and raised American or South African or Venezuelan Jews?
Many
a traveler has found their feet hitting the hard stone floors of the white
stone house with suitcases always arriving or heading out. Hardly a week goes
by without a new suitcase arriving upstairs. By plan or by providence. Those
who connect find themselves surprised how they even arrived, plucked out of
their daily expectations to a place that shockingly resonates.
The
house on David Yellin St. is rather unassuming on first glance. The first thing
a first-time visitor might notice would be the extensive library in every room.
Every available space has become a place to hold classes and store books. From
early morning till late evening, books are opened and learned and the sound of discussion
echoes through the short halls. The main library is unlike most others in the
Western world. If it’s quiet here, then something’s deeply wrong. The sounds
here are certainly not silence. They’re sharp and alive all throughout the
waking hours and often deep into the night.
The
voices in this house are warm, personal, and uplifting. It’s an education in
living, in being, in understanding identity and learning for the sake of
learning. A bad educational system would be an academic rat race where success
is measured by the student’s distance from his classmates. A good educational
system would be where more knowledge equals a higher degree of responsibility
to teach. The main program is meant for those who want to learn regardless of
affiliation. No one is turned away for lack of knowledge, only for a lack of
professed desire.
So
what makes a house a home? The place you hang your hat? The place you legally
own? Or is a home something more than a list of qualities, a poem of pretty
words, rather a place where real relationships begin? The place where real
connections take place, where you feel comfortable expressing more and more of
who you are. The place where you are needed, the choice you don’t need to
justify.
Not
every place that people live is a home, but the house on David Yellin certainly
is! This white stone house, only a few stories high with a little garden on
top, with a white fence out front, sitting among the tan and winding streets of
the growing City of Jerusalem, is a home to countless souls, and I am so grateful I am one of them.
Written
By: Jonathan Stebbins, Current Mayanot Student
