How a Cinnamon Pastry Saved My Life

On account of leaving late for class because of our desire to pick up some pastries at the market in Jerusalem, we missed the explosion that occurred on the street we would have been walking down when it went off.

Looking back on this experience, I can’t believe we were so calm about it then. Though when you’re in Israel, it seems like God is a lot closer and that he has your back. We said things like, “If it was our time, better to go in Israel than anywhere else,” and quickly moved past the incident. I don’t even remember feeling shock, though perhaps that was due to no one being killed. Still, when you otherwise would have likely been right there, when the bomb goes off, it seems like the kind of thing that would shake you up.

I was recently reading the journal that I kept when I was learning at a Yeshiva in Israel. It was Friday morning. We got off early on Fridays to prepare for sundown after which there would be many things we couldn’t do until full dark the next night when the Sabbath was over.

One of the things we routinely did on Friday afternoons was go to the Mahane Yehuda Market also known as the Shuk to buy things for the upcoming Sabbath. The Shuk was a partially open-air marketplace that sold almost any manner of kosher food you could imagine. Although the other items we bought might have differed from week to week, the one thing that never did was the cinnamon rugelach.

An Early Morning Purchase

These were small croissant-like pastries with a cinnamon filling rolled up inside. Delicious no matter when you ate them, they were absolutely mind blowing when first out of the oven and still hot and gooey. As popular as they were, they were always making more so it wasn’t so hard to come by them warm. Since we had gone through the entire box we bought the first week before arriving back at our house, from then on we bought two boxes.

Since Friday afternoons were so hectic and a time when the Shuk was always packed, this week we decided to go early morning before class. We bought coffee to go with the first box and sat at a nearby table with our treat, just talking. The only problem was when you got all seven us talking, we often lost track of the time. When someone finally noticed how late we were we grabbed our things and made a beeline for the Yeshiva.

An Obstacle in Our Path

We were about halfway to our destination when we found the street was blocked off. Having been there six weeks already we knew the alleys and side streets like the back of our hand and headed down one of these which we knew would get us to school. This was also blocked off. Though we found this curious, there were any number of reasons this might be, so we turned off again only to find the same thing.

When we attempted to go back to the main street, there was a commotion and a large crowd being directed by soldiers. As we got closer to them, they were issuing orders sending the crowd in different directions. In Israel, you know there is serious trouble when the the soldiers wear their guns in the front, not slung over their backs and actually have them in their hands. We all noticed this immediately, and when the soldiers commanded three of us to go in one direction while sending the other four in a different one, we didn’t hesitate to do what they said.

Unidentified Packages

After moving far enough away from the crowd, the two other girls I was with and I sat at an outdoor cafe to wait it out, figuring things would clear soon. Despite the way the soldiers were acting, we were still not alarmed. This behavior was not rare nor were blocked roads or evacuated restaurants, buses or other public venues. This usually occurred due to was called Hefetz Hashud or an “unidentified” or “suspicious package”.

This could be anything from a briefcase to a child’s backpack that could hold a bomb. In Israel, you quickly learned to never leave any of your belongings alone or chances were good it would be confiscated and possibly blown up to prevent a potential act of terrorism.

Most of the time these unidentified packages were completely innocent, the result of someone either not being aware of the need to keep things with them at all times or just being absent minded, and were cleared and neutralized within half an hour or so. This would not turn out to be one of those times.

We Wait Some More

My two friends and I were content to wait out whatever was going on at a shady table in a quaint neighborhood off the main thoroughfare. Actually, we were more than content. This was because we had the second box of cinnamon rugelach. We agreed to go back and get another box after class to replace the one we were in the process of eating.

We thought to call the school and let them know why we weren’t there, but found that the phone the Rabbis had given us for emergencies, which my group also had, was dead as we’d forgotten to charge it the night before. We weren’t too concerned however, since we figured the Rabbis would have learned long before there was some kind of disruption occurring.

An hour passed, which put the street closure at an hour and a half, then another hour. After another fifteen minutes, and quarter box of rugelach which brought our amount consumed to over half the quantity in the second cardboard container, we saw people passing in both directions. Upon seeing a few soldiers who looked more relaxed, we inquired as to whether the streets were open and learned that they were. Our pleasant morning adventure at an end, we made our way to the Yeshiva.

A Frenzied Welcome

When we arrived at school, there seemed to be a certain amount of frantic activity. Before we could find any of the Rabbis, we saw the other four girls from our group. We waved, and immediately heard one of them shout out to the Rabbis that we were there. The two Rabbis that ran the program, both pale, came rushing towards us asking if we were okay. When we said that we were, they demanded to know why we hadn’t called and we sheepishly admitted to our mistake. It would be the last time we failed to charge the phone and take the charger with us, just in case.

After ensuring everything was fine, the two Rabbis went to make calls, evidently to some of the students from the men’s program who they had sent to look for us earlier. We learned from the other girls that there had been an explosion. A bomb in a car trunk had gone off, killing at least the driver.

A second bomb had exploded sometime later, evidently linked to the first, but there were differing accounts as to exactly when and whether others had been killed as well. When the first group of girls had arrived, three short, and the rest of us hadn’t appeared soon after and couldn’t be reached by phone, everyone had gone into a panic.

The Story Unfolds

Over the next hour, the details of what really had taken place came in. The person killed had been identified and was actually one of the terrorists. It didn’t appear that it was supposed to be a suicide mission as they had found the remnants of a timer mechanism. It seemed the terrorist was supposed to have armed the bomb, then left the car parked — on one of the busiest streets in Jerusalem.

They believed the plan for the first bomb to blow open the trunk, setting off a second smaller bomb which was filled with shrapnel intended to impale as many people as possible. From what they could tell the third bomb, which would have still been hidden from sight in the engine, would have gone off several minutes later when all of the first responders had shown up to care for the injured.

But the first bomb had gone off immediately, killing the terrorist who was supposed to have set everything in motion. It had twisted and melted the trunk door instead of just blowing it open limiting those who were injured. The third bomb had never gone off. They disarmed it from a distance with a robotic arm but couldn’t determine why it had never detonated as everything seemed to be working.

They later said that had the third bomb gone off, it would have leveled the entire block and dozens of people would have been killed with dozens more injured. As it was there were around ten people injured, all of whom were treated and released by the next day. The only fatality had been the terrorist.

Realization Hits

Once we had heard all of the information, including the timing of it, we looked at each other. We would have likely been frighteningly close to the bombs had we followed our normal schedule. We might possibly even have been passing right by the car when they went off.

There is a Jewish Blessing of Thanksgiving that is said, when one has survived a life threatening situation. The full impact of what had occured didn’t hit us until one of the Rabbis instructed us to recite the blessing in synagogue the next day.

Sensory Memories

It is remarkable how the taste and smell of some foods can bring back memories almost as if they are a flashback. I hadn’t thought about this event for at least ten years before visiting a friend a few days ago. After dinner, she served coffee and warm, cinnamon rugelach. The memories of that day in Jerusalem can rushing back. I must have turned pale because my friend asked me what was wrong. I went to take a sip of coffee but noticing my hand shaking, I put down the cup. Taking a deep breath to settle myself I told her the story. Afterwards, we sat silently, my friend lost in her thoughts, me lost in my memories as if watching it all play out again only in slow motion.

My friend reached out and placed her hand over mine comfortingly. The moment was broken and the present reasserted itself. I looked up at her and smiled to let her know everything was alright. I reached for another rugelach and taking a bite, savored the taste of cinnamon and life on my tongue.

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