The Messiah lives in Tel Aviv

Over my Sukkot break I noticed an interesting parallel between my two "homes," New York and Israel. The parallel is rather abstract, so I'll paint you a picture...

It's Saturday afternoon. My cousin Shelly and I take a bus into Tel Aviv, the "big city" of Israel to shop, dine, and sight-see. We people-watch through the restaurant window, Shawarma in hand, debating the job of the woman with the leather studded jacket and Bob Marley sweat pants. It almost reminds me of New York for a minute, until I see him.

Long brown hair, shirtless, white linen pants, a red shiny cape. He sits with his legs crossed at Magen David Square, holding sign that boldly proclaims that he is, indeed, the Messiah.

Almost immediately, the eccentric character reminds me of a more well known figure who brings music and manhood to New York City's Time Square--the Naked Cowboy. Although I have yet to take a picture with him, It's impossible to miss him every time I walk down 42nd street.

So you have these two eccentric hunky men, one in Manhattan and one in Israel. So what?

Well, oddly enough, I found that these two men reveal a bit about the bustling metropolis' they inhabit. The Cowboy promotes liberty, freedom, self expression--all core American values. So, it only makes sense the the eccentric of Tel Aviv claims to be a holy, religious figure.

Although both New York and Tel Aviv have diversity and allow for freedom of self expression, the core difference that is religion manifests itself countless ways. It's the little things like the self-proclaimed Messiah that remind me I am in a Jewish country--even when I'm in Tel Aviv, the most urbanized part of Israel.

For me, this is why I can have two "homes." New York is the place I have grown up with--I love the skyscrapers, the diversity, the smells of every kind of cuisine imaginable. But a part of me will always see Israel as my "homeland"--the place where it is politically correct to say Shabbat Shalom on Friday nights and Chag Sameach on Rosh Hashana.

It's the sense of Jewish unity (that I so often refer to in these entries) that keeps bringing me back to Israel. And so I am here for the sixth time, smack in the middle of the desert where my ancestors were thousands of years ago.

Back at home, It wasn't easy for me to find this sense of belonging. Here, it's impossible not to. It's all around me. Looking into the desert is like looking directly into history--and it somehow amazes me more and more each day.