This blog post was written by Halle Hartman, a Yahel Social Change Fellow living and working in Rishon LeZion.
At first, it was shocking. The night I looked over and saw her on her knees, belly over the base of her bed, I froze.
I recall immediately texting my father, who I knew would laugh and empathize with my fear of the woman praying next to me.
I told and retold the same story to my friends, always adding an extra bit of humor to embed within the story. I found it all very peculiar: the praying, the rosary, the New Testament (or is it the Old one?) laying on her bedside table.
Soon thereafter, she would repeat the same movements before sleep and after waking up.
It was all very strange to me. Growing up, I went to Shul (sometimes) but my family rarely talked about God being at the center of our lives. My roommate is entirely devoted to God, in her own words: “Everything I do is for Him”.
I have never been so devoted to something in my life. Initially, I found her presence odd. Why do I have a Catholic roommate, in a Jewish state, who is here during war time?
To me, my status as a Jew in Israel isn’t such an oddity, even during a war. But her, I found her presence very strange.
Within the first month, we had many conversations about Jesus, Christianity vs. Catholicism, the Messiah… I also have a male roommate who is Christian, but a more new-age type. They both talk and disagree on many Jesus-related issues.
She told me once that when the Messiah comes, everyone saved will be living in a New Jerusalem.
I said “Wait a second— do you know how small Jerusalem is? What’s He going to use, a shrink-ray?”.
We got to talking about this New Jerusalem, that apparently will metamorphosize when the Messiah comes.
I come from a family of skeptics and judgmental folks. Always paranoid of who our neighbors are and how we need to keep ourselves consistently questioning the intention of their nature. To be fair, us Jews have 2000 years of trauma, so I understand my father when he says “you better be careful with someone like that”. Isn’t forced conversion like, sooooo 1492 Spanish inquisition?
While keeping all of my personal and religious opinions within the back of my consciousness, I choose to move forward with skeptical curiosity. Not to change my beliefs, but to just listen to others. Who knows what I might learn?
In a way, my roommate was the introduction to the overarching value within which I try to frame my interactions on a day to day basis: curiosity. Listening to others even when I don’t agree— especially when I don’t agree. I think it’s important to absorb an array of opinions, voices, and personalities whilst being here, in a time of constant ebb and flow. I find that the more I listen to others, the more I learn that it’s better to have open ears than an open mouth. Whether it is my Catholic roommate’s view about the Messiah, my Orthodox Jewish co-worker’s perspective on clapping during Shabbat (it’s complicated), or a Kibbutznik’s belief that peace is the only way to move forward, even when 20 of her neighbors were murdered on October 7th. The more I listen to others, the more I understand the pain and passion that drive their way of living. It is wholly better to listen and try to understand, than to just reject completely. There are many moments over the past five months that have reinforced the idea that I have so much more in common with individuals around me than I do differences.
So, I come back to my praying roommate. What was first jarring to see her devotion, has now become a very normal and at times even comforting part of my everyday life. I find her ritual feels like a bedtime story, something I’ll always know is there before I go to sleep. I know that around 10:30 each night, I can look over and see her doing what is important and meaningful for her, even when I know I don’t feel the calling to do the same.
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