For the religious, the rituals of every day and the rituals of the Sabbath remain the same whatever the situation, but we who are not observant, have found that so much of what we usually do have changed – not always outwardly, but always inwardly.  I am not strong enough to march to Jerusalem with the families of the hostages, but our usual activities seem to have no significance any more.  In the past we spent our Sabbath with our children and grandchildren, or with friends, but it is less meaningful than usual.

Still, we do it, and enjoy it.   Today we went to the beach for breakfast with old friends.   There was no way to make reservations – everything was full up – I had gone around to a few restaurants to see what was available yesterday and was met with supercilious responses.  So we found ourselves finally at the Mandarin hotel – a bit seedy, and no longer with servers and elegant dishes – but great food and a quiet atmosphere.  It usually fills up before and after movies, because the small theater is next door.  The other times are for hotel residents and near-by trysts.  So it has a kind of exotic atmosphere but is not known for the food.

I liked it.  Especially because I didn’t want to be in the sun and wind, and among chattering crowds.  Especially since our friends are hard of hearing and the quiet was good for us.

But I was overwhelmed by the fact that the shadow of irrelevance in the face of the horror around us and our helplessness.  We are even stuck with Russia – unable to object too much for fear of their influence on Syria and arms deals, but dccidedly against their policies with Ukraine but fearful of saying a word.

How wonderful can breakfast be?