Here in the holy city of Yerushalayim one has the luxury of having different places where one can get in touch with the diverse energies of the tribes of Israel. If you dig the old time litfish Yerushalmi vibe then you've got to hang out in the Zichron Moshe, and in Batei Broyde in Nachlaot (the unhippified part). If you yearn for the last vestiges of authentic Shephardic spiritualty that has not yet been stamped out by the Ashkenazi/Zionist hegemony go spend time in the Musayoff Bet Knesset in Shchunat Habucahrim. But some people get that kicks davka from the pure hungarian Haimishkiet, they enjoy nothing more than praying the morning services at 11 o'clock in a minyan of men with wet beards and payos and very heavy silver Ataros and Chassidic accents, followed by herring, brandy and kokosh cake. The place for that is the Satmar Shul on rechov Yoel(!).
Now, I have some friends who fall into the last category. One of them is someone by the name of Motty who related to me the following tale. It was told to him by an octogenarian Chassidic man who davens in Satmar. This man served Tzahal back in the day and then did twenty years of Miluim (Chareidi parasites!) Once while he was a soldier he merited to attend the last tish of the Husyatiner Rebbe; a very holy Rebbe who held his court in the holy city of Tel Aviv. The Rebbe gave this yid a challa roll who proceeded to put it in his khaki knapsack. Eleven months later he was cleaning his bag for Pesach and he found this roll. It was totally fresh like the day it was given to him.
Zechuso Yagen Alenu
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