And I can’t help but wonder: Is Torah really at the core of all this?

I’m not a cynic. I’m an idealist who’s banged her head on reality.

I want to hold on to idealism as I walk the streets of Jerusalem. We’re here for a summer wedding. It’s not just a quick vacation during which I’m chasing my tail; we’re getting a beautiful stretch of time in Eretz Yisrael. Sun streams everywhere, bright and thick.

I stand at the crosswalk and blink. Hundreds of avreichim crossing the road, seforim tucked under their arms. There’s electricity in the air, snatches of Torah in their conversations. I want to believe that all those young men, all those young couples, are here for this shining, exalted purpose.

But then I look at the other side of the street.

Restaurants open 20 hours a day. Waffles and smoothies and an entire store dedicated to French fries. European-style boutiques, American-style tech stores, endless options for shoes and sushi and spa treatments — all kosher, Jewish, tzugepast — far more than we have in our midsized American community back home.

And I can’t help but wonder: Is Torah really at the core of all this?

All those young couples, miles from home, coming here so the husband can learn better… Once, you couldn’t get the ice cream you liked, the laundry detergent you wanted. Today you can get everything. Around me, little kids prance in penny loafers and personalized yarmulkes and just the right shades of teal and taupe.

You have this and this?