The Ohr Samayach yeshiva, widely known as a magnet for English speakers who want to come closer to Judaism, won approval from Jerusalem on Wednesday to build a 12-story yeshiva in the eastern Jerusalem neighborhood of Shimon HaTzaddik (Simon the Just), known to Arabs as Sheikh Jarrah.

The Jerusalem Planning and Building Committee approved the plan by a narrow 4-3 vote, with the expected strong opposition from the left-wing Meretz members of the City Council. The Planning Department reportedly objected to the project because of its proximity to the city’s light rail line and to hotels as well as Muslim character of the predominantly Arab neighborhood.

The building will not displace any Arabs and will be built on an empty plot near Ohr Samayach’s existing yeshiva. Three of the floors will be underground.

The idea of Jews living in areas of Jerusalem that the Palestinian Authority claims is “theirs” because it was once occupied illegally by Jordan scratches the international community’s skin, but the notion of allowing a yeshiva to expand to teach Torah there undoubtedly will bare the true blood of anti-Semitism.

The world’s diplomatic offices are wallpapered with the 1947 Partition Plan as if that should be the basis for Israel’s future borders because that was the map, if the Arabs had not rejected it, that would have put Israel in the most defenseless position.

World ambassadors and the media establishment have a problem with Jews living there not because it is supposedly Arab land but rather because they cannot accept Jews acting as Jews and learning and teaching Torah.

The headlines on Thursday will speak of “fanatic Jews” planning to teach their radical views on Palestinian land.

Teaching Torah in Shimon HaTzaddik or Sheikh Jarrah, call it what you will, is a death threat to the Big Lie that the anti-Semitic world promotes.

That is why the Palestinian Authority and the entire Arab world are in a panic every time a Jew goes up on the Temple Mount and scream that the Jews have “stormed the Temple Mount” to destroy the Al Aqsa Mosque and build the Third Temple.

That is why Muslim clerics have to deny that the Holy Jewish Temple ever existed.

Jews? In Eastern Jerusalem? Maybe, but so long as they are good little Jews who are not fanatics who teach the foundations of Western civilization.

The land of Israel’s holiness features four cities that are singled out as exceptionally holy, and which are imbued with special qualities. I have had the good fortune to visit all four – Hebron, Jerusalem, Tiberias and Safed – if only for a short time. Each of these cities is associated with a particular kind of holiness, corresponding to the four basic elements: Jerusalem – fire; Hebron – earth; Tiberias – water; and, my favorite, Safed – air.

Why is Safed my favorite? After all, Jerusalem was home to the two Holy Temples, and the Western Wall is accessible to us even to this day. The matriarchs and patriarchs are buried in Hebron. Tiberias housed the last seat of the great Supreme Court of Jewish Law, and is the burial place of the Torah giant Moses Maimonides.

I can say without reservation, though, that Safed is the most beautiful and spiritual place that I have ever encountered. The stone streets with the drainage depressions down the middle, the beautiful ancient architecture, and the ubiquitous blue building walls are all stunning. But it’s not just Safed itself. It is also the view, that beautiful view of the mountains. And the sunsets. It’s easy to see why kabbalah began and developed there. There is something very special about the air. The holiness of Safed’s air is palpable. You can stand in the center of town, surrounded by noise, sights and smells, and still breathe in the holiness. You can tune everything else out.

In 1997, I visited Israel for the second time. At that point in my life, I was on what I call the cusp of becoming more observant. I was taking it very slowly, which is the best way to do it. I had just bought a place in a largely Jewish neighborhood back home, feeling that if I were to move forward in my observance, I would want and need support.

I stayed with a friend in Rehovot, and rented a car for the duration of my three-week stay in Israel. Many people – Israelis and Americans – thought that I was out of my mind for driving in Israel. But I like my independence.

One day I drove to Safed – not an insignificant trek – and stayed in the nicest hotel in the city, figuring that since I was paying nothing to stay with my friend in Rehovot, I would treat myself. It was Friday night, Shabbat, and I was watching television in my room. I even remember what I was watching.

Dinnertime arrived and I was hungry. However, the dining room was filled with families, and I felt self-conscious sitting by myself. I went back to my room and planned to order room service. The problem: the only thing that the hotel would deliver to my room was chocolate cake. Why, I don’t know. This is not ordinarily a problem; I like chocolate cake as much as the next person – but I wanted a real dinner. So I decided to drive to a nearby city, one with – unlike Safed – eating establishments that would be open despite it being the Sabbath.

Now, in addition to being the most beautiful city in the world, Safed is the most confusing city in the world. I drove around and around, out of the old city and into the new – while 12-year-old boys yelled at me for driving on the Sabbath. It felt like I was in the eye of a storm.

Finally, I was out of Safed. Since Safed is located way up on the top of a mountain, the drive down is quite precarious. There are no streetlights and no guardrails. But I was determined to get dinner. Suddenly, my engine cut out. Nothing worked. Nothing. No brakes, no motor, no power steering. I was rolling down a mountain, helpless.

Almost reflexively, straight from my soul, I said, “God, if you save me, I will keep your Sabbath.” And somehow, while I’m not sure why, I wasn’t scared. If God chose not to save me, I believed that there was a reason. I tried to steer uphill, without the power steering. Nothing. Not knowing what to do, I turned the engine off, and then turned it on again and hoped for the best.

The engine started working. My life was no longer in danger. God had clearly intervened in a very open and miraculous way. He quite literally saved my physical life – and my spiritual life as well. We often miss smaller moments of intervention in our everyday lives, but you couldn’t miss this. There was clearly a sign here, an open miracle, and it changed my life forever.

I gave up my quest for dinner. I went back to the hotel and had my chocolate cake. It was the best chocolate cake I had ever eaten.

The screaming boys were right: I needed to keep Shabbat. And I have done so since my return to the U.S. a few weeks after this experience.

There is truly something in the air in Safed.                Temima (Donna) Gorshel Cohen grew up in a suburb of Boston, and attended Wellesley College and Boston University School of Law. She and her family currently live in Brookline, MA. She can be reached at donnagorshelcohen@rcn.com.

Jews globally are commemorating the Three Weeks of Mourning period that began with last Sunday’s 17th Day of Tammuz fast and culminates with the Fast of Tisha B’Av. This period of time marks the breaching of Jerusalem’s walls through the destructions of our Holy Temples, and our subsequent exile from the Land of Israel.

During the two millennia of our galut,Jews from every corner of the planet were – at various times and places – tortured, brutalized, isolated into ghettos, accused of horrendous crimes, ostracized, prevented from earning a living, forced to convert, marginalized in every conceivable way, and more recently decimated by the millions.

We attribute our bitter, dark exile and the destruction of the Second Temple to lashon hara and sinat chinam (negative speech and baseless hatred) – often due to groundless jealously.

The following are two poems I wrote about the destructive impact of gossip and slander. I hope they will serve as a deterrent when one is tempted to say something they shouldn’t.

The Gossip’s Lament

You were a good friend, yet I caused you much pain,

For I gossiped about you – though there was little to gain.

Merely moments in the limelight, the center of attention,

It didn’t matter that what I said was a bit of my invention.

I snickered and mocked you behind your unsuspecting back,

I dissected your character, pointed out the qualities you lack.

I listed your failings, and belittled the things you do,

Not giving much thought if what I said was even true.

I revealed your secrets that I had sworn to secrecy,

I shattered forever your cherished privacy.

I did not pause to consider what I was doing to a friend,

I had damaged your reputation – one you might never be able to mend.

You had been there for me for so many years,

You delighted in my joys, and shared in my tears.

You soothed my worries, assuaged feelings that were hurt,

And I cravenly repaid you by dragging your name in the dirt.

Now I have lost you – and others have turned away,

I glance at a phone that is silent all day.

I destroyed a priceless gift for a false moment of “glory,”

And I know it can’t be fixed by saying, “I’m so sorry.”

Spoken Words

The spoken word is a powerful thing,

Whether uttered by a pauper or a powerful king.

For each word has a meaning and nuance that is unique,

And your words are a part of you that take wing when you speak.

Whether whispered very softly, or hurled in a shout,

A word is unstoppable – once it’s let out.

When you part with a word, you can’t get it back,

It flies to its intended – it’s full meaning intact.

A word can be a healing thing,

A word can make a sore heart sing.

A word can bring relief and hope to those in tears,

Or build bridges between strangers, dispelling all fears.

But a word can be a pain-inflicting thing,

It can cut, it can wound, it can deeply sting.

And for both speaker and listener, bring regret and shame,

A bond that once was – will never be the same.

A word, once spoken, can be a life-enhancing tool,

But also a destructive weapon in the mouth of a fool.

So weigh your words carefully, release them with thought,

For words that are let go – can never be caught.