According to Jewish tradition, there are four holy cities, each corresponding to one of the elements with which God created the universe. Jerusalem is fire—the spark at the center of the world. Hebron is earth—the burial place of our ancestors. Tiberias, on the Kinneret, is water—the final convening point of the Sanhedrin. And Tzfat, in the northern mountains of the Galilee, is air.
According to the Kabbalah, the air of Tzfat is mystical. And indeed, the dreams I’ve had here are beyond lucid, leaving me complete recall and lingering physical sensations on awakening. And these dreams pertain to no paltry matter—they are visions of clan and country, of spirit and allegiance.
In the birthplace of Kabbalah, Shabbat is timeless. Orthodox Jews, wearing the garb their ancestors have for generations, sing prayers in temple and along the cobblestone streets. If not for the electric lamps, you’d think you’d gone back in time. But while this is a city of the past (and with the cemetery below, a city of the dead), the sages say the future will come first to Tzfat.
I came to Tzfat to visit my cousin (2nd? 3rd? I can never keep track) Esther, who made Aliyah a year and a half ago. We caught up over Shabbat lunch before I returned to my hostel, the Kabbalistic Chasid-run “Ascent Center,” for havdalah—the Saturday night ritual which ends the Sabbath, marking the return from the divine to the mundane.
But Tzfat is never truly mundane. The city in the north looks to the future, and the energies that surge through it—especially after dark—play tricks upon the mind. Shabbat night, a friend and I (both sober) walked up to the Citadel Park above the city. We saw, silhouetted against the waning gibbous moon, a staircase climbing to an observation deck facing north. A figure, also in silhouette, was descending the stairs; three more stood on the deck looking out.
“Let’s go up there,” my friend whispered.
Walking toward the War of Independence Monument, where this bridge appeared to touch ground, she and I crossed under a line of trees. On the other side, we found that the bridge had vanished. Were she not with me, I would doubt my sanity.
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