Last year we had a guest for Rosh HaShanah a boy from the Birthright program. Steve’s almost every other sentence started “In America … ”

“In America it’s so much easier to shower. The shower’s attached to the wall; you don’t hold it.
“In America air conditioning’s a necessity not a luxury. And it’s central air. And you hit a button before you leave the house to make sure the air conditioner or heater will be on before you get home.
“In America there’s so much meat The fruit and vegetables are huge — and it’s all soooo cheap.
“In America there’s Wal-Mart. And everything’s open till 4:00 a.m. And we have a supermarket every ten blocks.
“In America houses have pools attached to them and other people clean them. The biggest apartment in Israel is the smallest garage in America … all right not exactly a garage.]
“In America soup is an appetizer — not a meal.
“In America we have 1% milk skim milk 2% and whole delicious cheese great pizza hot dogs hamburgers deli ... and there’s Taco Bell. I know it’s not kosher but …
“In America we drive everywhere. Cars are inexpensive — and there’s no 100% sales tax. 
“In America everything’s cotton. We have plush towels thread-count sheets … Tempur-Pedic and Sleep Number matresses — you push a button to choose how hard or soft you want them.
“In America kids grow up on TV and video games. We buy a new computer every six months.
“In America there’s built-in closets ... and garbage disposals.
“In America no one freezes bread.”

Steve tastes the pomegranate. “In America the pomegranate’s red and full of juice. Here it’s pink and pale — but there’s nothing like it.

“In America … ” he begins again but already he catches himself. It has become a sort of joke. At one point he’s about to say something — and my husband says “In America…” Steve laughs hard. He’s caught he knows it and he appreciates how we make light of it.

I hadn’t realized how many differences there are how many traditions rules that we live with — until we’re asked to explain new ideas unfamiliar actions almost every minute.

We make Kiddush.

“But why does the bread need to be covered?”
“Because we don’t want to ‘shame’ it by the fact that we’re saying the blessings on the wine first.”

Can’t take out the fishbones; can’t separate good from bad only bad from good.
We drink wine between the fish and the meat. We sing songs between the soup and the chicken.
We have a mechitzah.
We don’t talk about others derogatorily. And boys are not allowed to shake a little girl’s hand “even if she’s only ten.”

Laws rules regulations borders boundaries. A whole new country a whole new world. Columbus passed the borders of what everyone thought the world was or could be. We’re closing borders and opening up new worlds.

We get onto the subject of Israel. Steve gives an intricate fully worked-out plan a Harvard/Oxford explanation of how Israel and the other nations can split the country and finally have peace.

“It’s a great explanation” we say. “There’s only one problem: G-d told us what exactly constitutes Eretz Yisrael and that we are to live within its borders.”
“Oh” he answers. Not a word more. I guess the buck stops here. Steve’s mind is getting turned in eight directions trying to compute. Then he kind of relaxes. I serve apple crisps but he’s not even noticing. They can’t compete with the sweet taste of a small piece of emunah.

“Are you here for Succos?” we ask hopefully.

“No … what do you do in Succos?”

“We live outside.”

He raises an eyebrow clearly indicating: This stuff is really getting endless.

“There.” I point to the balcony.

“There?”

“Yes. We put up some wooden walls and a roof of leaves.”

He thinks I’m joking. “I hate too much joking” he says. “In America everyone’s trying to out-joke each other: ‘My hippopotamus sat on his tiger’s right little toe.’ Ridiculous.”

”Yes. The Torah actually speaks about too much joking. It’s called ruach shtus or leitzanus. It’s a form of drunkenness and leads to terrible things.”

“That’s in the Torah?” he asks mesmerized.

We answer simultaneously: “Everything’s in the Torah.”

He takes out a tefillas haderech. “Someone gave me this on the bus. The guy was so nice I got nervous. He said to go to some program in the Old City called Aysha Torah.”

“Aish HaTorah? That’s great” we say trying not to sound overly zealous.

“You know it?”

“Sure. If you want we’ll call and set you up for Sunday.”

“Well Sunday I look forward to spending a day with my computer — after two days without!”

“Too bad. Sunday has the best classes.”

“So … maybe I’ll go Sunday and look at the computer on Monday.” He thinks it over.

After Yom Tov we kind of lose touch.

Then …

During Succos we get a call. “Can you believe it?” Steve says “I found a real Succah in America! And when I sit inside I feel like I’m in Israel!”