It’s Friday morning in Ramat Gan. A large hangar in the soccer stadium of the Tel Aviv-district city is beginning to fill up with families.

Mothers with infants in baby carriers, holding hands of toddlers; fathers pushing strollers, lugging older kids on shoulders.

The anteroom, more like a tent under the beating sun, is set up with buffets. Shawarma on a rotating spit, pita bread, salads, tahina, fried eggplant. Drinks are on the opposite wall. Bottles of cola and juice on a bar, next to vodka and beer.