AM:PM store in Israel.
(photo credit: Wikimedia Commons)
Paradoxical as it may sound, the moment I realized God exists was the first time I spent Shabbat in Tel Aviv. This past summer on a Friday afternoon, I drove to a friend’s house not far from Dizengoff Center. I consider myself a traditional Jew, though my Shabbat observance may not always meet the strictest standards.But as someone who grew up in the religious community of Efrat and now a modern-day Jerusalemite, I couldn’t help but feel like an anthropologist among my own people. Shabbat in Tel Aviv felt like a scene out of Steven Spielberg’s film, “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.” As I was cooking for Shabbat and setting up the hot plate, raising the temperature in the already humid and boiling-hot Middle Eastern city, we discovered that we were missing barbeque sauce. It was ten minutes before Shabbat; therefore, to me, it was a lost cause. My friend, however, said to head over to the local AM:PM to buy some.