The Wedding of Moishe Page

Continued from a previous post...

I hopped on the bus and made it to the wedding with ten minutes to spare before the announced time. This gave me a good hour of real time to prepare as the wedding on Israeli time.

Moshe has been studying with me at Machon Meir for the last six months. He is probably one of the newly religious most dedicated to learning I have ever met, immediately becoming enamored of the deeply spiritual and mystical teachings of the Rebbe of Breslov, Rebbe Nachman of Uman. There was only one impediment: he wasn't Jewish. So he came to Machon Meir to learn. Within a few months, he already had the beard and peyos (sidecurls) and was as devoted to Torah and mitzvot as I've ever seen, but he still had much learning to do.

The ceremony was modest, appropriate, and hugely fun. Here is a post-wedding review of the highlights:

Moishe and Rav Segal (from Machon Meir) review the Ketubah (marriage contract.)

Rabbi Segal seals the documents.

We pause in the proceedings to daven Minchah (afternoon prayers) before it gets too late.

The kids play, waiting.
Rav Segal puts some ash or something on Moishe's forehead (I'm still trying to figure out the meaning of that particular custom.)
Candles are fired up as Moishe puts on his kittel, the white all-body garment Jewish males wear to their wedding, on Yom Kippur (the day of atonement,) and to burial.
Next comes bedeikin, checking. Moishe needs to make sure he's got the right girl. This custom was instituted by Ya'akov Avinu (Jacob the patriarch,) who was fooled by his father in law Lavan into marrying the wrong sister after seven years of labor. We won't be making that mistake again.

Rav Segal does a double-check in case Moishe made a mistake.

Moishe is led out to the chuppah (canopy.)
Well, looks like we're ready to go here. Only I keep thinking we're forgetting something...
Ah yes, the Kallah (bride)! Here she comes.
She does seven orbits around Moishe, symbolically separating him off from all others.
And now we're ready to get started.
A few blessings, and Moishe drinks the wine.
Moishe gives the ring. Despite the angle of the camera, which makes it look as if he's putting the ring on the finger of one of the guys holding up the chuppah, I assure you it's only an illusion.
Now that Moishe is married, a REAL MAN, he can put on a tallit (prayer shawl.)
Rabbi David Lau, chief rabbi of Modi'in and son of Chief Rabbi of Israel Yisrael Meir Lau, reads the Ketubah (marriage contract.)
The ketubah reading.
They drink more wine.
Then smash the glass. A reminder of the destruction of the second temple in Jerusalem, a reminder that in every moment of joy there should be a bit of sorrow.

And now, the party begins!





Dancing around the room.

Moishe with the The Machon Meir guys.


The happy couple together.
Rabbi Segal dances for the couple.

Moishe getting down.
David from Machon Meir reads one of the sheva brachot (seven blessings) after the wedding.

Mazal tov to the couple!

Chag Kasher V'sameach

The air raid sirens just went off. That means it's now officially Pesach! And that I've gotta get off the computer. But first let me wish everyone a chag kasher v'sameach (a happy and kosher holiday,) next year in Jerusalem rebuilt!

A Blast From my Past

Michael, a friend of mine from the goold old days of 2000-2002 in Be'er Sheva, came back to Israel from Austria for a visit. Wife and baby in tow, he had his hands pretty full, and we couldn't get a picture together.

Wife Miki and daughter Yael

Daughter Yael

We went up to the Hass Promenade, which provides some striking views of the Jerusalem skyline. Until 1967, the promenade, or at least the location which would some day become the promenade, was right on the "green line" armistice line with Jordan. Today, it marks the border between predominantly Arab East and predominantly Jewish West Jerusalem. It Gave me a good chance to take some photos of previous locations I've blogged about, to give a better perspective.

A panoramic view of East Jerusalem. The rains have fallen, the gras is green, and spring is in the air.

In the foreground are some architectural and sculptural decorations in the Haas Promenade area. In the midground, one can see the "Hill of Evil Counsel," home of the United Nations presence. In the background is AbuDis.

Abu Dis through the trees.

The Hill of Evil Counsel

Yours truly, with The Old City and the City of David (which I blogged about in Excavations in the City of David and Underneath The City of David previously.)

A closer-up shot. The hill on which the golden dome sits is the Temple Mount.

Later, we finished walking and headed to Emek Refaim for lunch. But soon, time was running short, and I had to make it to the wedding of Moshe, my friend from yeshivah, before 5 PM. We raced to the bus station in his rental, and, making a right turn, saw it right behind us. We managed to make it just in the nick of time, as I boarded the ten bound for Modi'in.

Stay tuned for pictures from a Breslov wedding...

Pesach is Coming

The streets are filled with old furniture, and the gutters are running with grime as families power-wash the last of the chometz (leavened bread/pasta) crumbs from their homes in preparation for Pesach (Passover.) Monday night is game time, when we switch over all utensils and foods to the special, super-strict kosher for Pesach level.

Of course, I don't have any of my Pesach stuff here with me, so I had to go on a whole new round of shopping. I stocked up on piles and piles of meat products (salami, sauseges, etc.) but when I got home I looked at the labels and realized they were all with kitnyot (rice, corn, and legumes,) which Sephardim can eat during Pesach, but Ashkenazim like me can't. Ah, well, it's a new country, live and learn. Into the freezer they go, until after Pesach.

Anyway, Thursday saw me at the Bar Mitzvah of one of the neighborhood kids. His chevruta (study partner) also performs tricks, like juggling and amazing feats of coordination, with his twin brother. It was pretty amazing considering the kids were thirteen.

The brothers juggle together.
Juggling together from a distance.

Juggling together from a distance, while one brother balances on a plank on a bucket. I still can't believe he was able to pull this off.

Anyway, onward tomorrow with a shidduch, finishing my Pesach cleaning, and bedikat chomets (checking the house for leaven.) Monday night will see me at the seder with my landlord. There's never a dull moment in Israel.

Wedding of Jonathan Neril

As is said, when the month of Adar comes in, joy increases. Well, we're already in Nissan, but I have some pictures that I've been meaning to post from a wedding I went to on 25th Adar (which is also known as March 15th.) The wedding of my friend and landsman, who made aliyah from Walnut Creek a couple of years before I did, Jonathan Neril.

Transportation from Jerusalem was by communal bus, those of us without cars headed down to Shapelles Yeshiva to meet up. With the sleet and occasional snow falling heavily, walking through about a half-mile of the stuff to get from my bus stop to the meeting place, I began thinking about how much more wonderful life would be with a car.

Hail on a car roof, in Jerusalem before departure.

By the time we got out of Jerusalem to the nearby settlement of Kibbutz Kfar Etzion where the wedding was being held, it was dark. And at the higher elevation, they had experienced something very rare for this time of year in Israel....

SNOW! It looked like a full six inches and gave the landscape a dreamy feel.

As the wedding was getting started, Jonathan's father recognized me from Walnut Creek, and came over and handed me a video camera, asking me to video the whole wedding. So the pictures you see were taken while holding my digital camera in my left hand and the camcorder in my right. It took lots of focus, but had benefits, since I got a front and center view.

Meanwhile, inside, Jonathan gets warmed up with the guys.

And now for bedeiken (checking to make sure you've got the right bride.)

Jonathan's Parents take him back from the bedeikin.

Jonathan and his wife Shana are to move to the small yishuv of Bat Ayin, which has a reputation as back-to-nature organic whole-grain type of community. I'm hoping to get out there and blog the place some time soon. Jonathan, learning in the yeshivah there, invited his fellow bochurim (bachelors/fellow students,) so I got to see some familiar faces from the bay area.

The Bat Ayin guys set up their natural wood chuppah (wedding canopy,) with Adam, Jonathan's brother, on guitar.

The chatan (groom) under the chuppah with his parents.

Here comes the bride.

The reading of a most artistic ketubah.

Mazal tov! They're married. And now, off to the yichud room (alone room.) We got a little lost in the snow, as nobody really knew where it was, but we made it eventually.

Some collapsed in the snow in ecstasy.

Back at the wedding hall, the real fun begins.

Over the mechitzah.

Adam Neril and yours truly.

There's a mitzvah (commandment) to bring joy to the new couple, so one minhag (tradition) is to perform all sorts of tricks. In this case, a dangerous-looking ninja-dance with a wooden pole that could knock the lights out of anyone who got in its way.

Others display their musical talents.

The happy couple, starting sheva brachot (the seven special blessings recited after a wedding.)

Mazal tov to the new couple!

Ani Rotzeh Mechonit! (I want a car!)

Standing on the curb waiting for the number six, the future passengers peeked around the Jerusalem-stone lined edge of the corner building. Ears perk and twitch, listening for that distinctive diesel engine rev. A miracle of the human creation, the auditory system can learn to pick the exact frequency and volume of the groan of the double-long bus from two hundred yards. Between the mess of banging and honking in the urban jungle, the sound of freedom, or at least gradual forward movement, at last comes, as the bus roars around the corner and comes to a stop. The doors hiss open and the crowd floods in. Being the sucker American, I let the old ladies ahead, who promptly elbow me back out the door. I try to hand my ticket to the bus driver, but the five foot thick wall of sweating human flesh between us blocks me. As the doors hiss shut, again and again, trying to compress my square peg of a body into the round hole of a bus, I reach a decision. It’s time to buy a car.

It wasn’t an easy decision. I’m watching the economy grow, massive new public works projects go up in the city, and better electronics fill the stores, but I will always associate life in Israel with poverty. It stems from my time in Be’er Sheva, when I lived in a working class neighborhood on a paltry research stipend. I remember the feeling of knowing that the food I had in the house wouldn’t be enough to last the week. I remember the woman who slept in her car under my bedroom window, the stray dogs, and the slums. I remember buying a bag of potatoes and then taking ketchup packets from burger king to make dinner for a week. I really didn’t mind so much, since the Talmud tells us that three things are bought with hardship: Torah, Olam Hab’ah (the next world,) and Eretz Yisrael.

It makes a car seem, well, haughty, like I’m cheating the system. After all, I don’t have army or reserve duty, I don’t have many problems with the language though I’m far from fluent, and I came with a great job already in the bag, so where’s the suffering? Not that I’m volunteering, it was just expected.

The fact is, I’m spending an hour each way on the bus to get downtown. That’s two hours to get to yeshivah and back, four if I want to go back into town later for a shidduch. Speaking of shidduchim, “I’ll pick you up in a fully-functional motor vehicle,” sounds a lot better than “I’ll pick you up on the number six.” So I thought I would buy a used car, like the old, unpretentious rust rocket I used to drive in Walnut Creek. But cars in Israel have a very high resale value, and I have immigrant benefits which reduce the taxes on cars from the astronomic 77% down to the merely stratospheric 50%. (Don’t quote me on those numbers. They could be higher) The discount makes it cheaper for me to buy something brand new.

And so the next aliyah phase begins. I’ve already started the process of transferring my California license over to Israeli, first by going to the driving school, then the eye doctor, then getting my physical, then going to the licensing office, then going back after they sent me home with the wrong papers. Next come lessons, the test, and the car purchase. It’s a major pain, but the freedom of the open road beckons!

Sderot 4: The Spirit of Sderot

During the incessant rocket attacks against the Jewish communities of Gaza prior to the disengagement, only one or two families left. While Sderot was always a target, most rocket attacks remained focused on the settlements, which were closer at hand, and thus easier targets, than Sderot itself. Now that the Jewish communities of Gaza have been destroyed, the forces of Jihad have moved the cross hairs onto Sderot. But unlike the front line settlements, Sderot is not such an idealistic community. Jews moved here fleeing persecution in Muslim lands, poverty in Russia, and exile in Ethiopia. Life is hand-to-mouth, and there is little thought of a higher religious or national purpose. Without a higher ideal, the misery of life under constant rocket threat becomes unbearable.

"About four thousand out of the twenty four thousand residents have left," Noam tells us.

That's a sixth of the population. It seems that the overwhelming majority would leave if given the chance. Sderot's Mayor Eli Moyal made the reality of the situation clear, "Either turn Beit Hanoun into a ghost town or Sderot will become a ghost town."

So why don't they just pack up and leave? For one thing, real estate prices have plummeted by almost 50% since the attacks began. Another reason is the traditional family structure. Most of the families here are immigrants who moved together as a unit, with all their brothers, aunts, and cousins to the same little town, and don't really know anyone outside the city. For these people, there is simply nowhere to go.

While, amidst plummeting prices, building has all but ceased in Sderot, there is one place that's still under construction; the yeshiva.

The new yeshiva under construction. The Beit Midrash (study hall) located in the basement is already in use.

The beit midrash (study hall.)

"This is an important ideal of Religious Zionism," the Rosh Yeshivah (head of the yeshiva) tells us. "We need to move into the towns that are having problems. Sderot is by no means a religious town. We need to build up the spirit here." Since the death of secular Zionism, the people here have been without the motivation or idealism necessary to carry on. The yeshiva hopes to fill that void, bringing a spirit of love of the land and spiritual strength necessary to carry on the struggle for Sderot.

The Rosh Yeshivah (Yeshivah Head,) Rav Dov Fendel

"Secular Zionism is dead. We, the religious, have to offer an alternative."

He is part of a movement within the national religious which has become stronger since the destruction of Jewish Gaza, of "Hitchabrut" (connection.) It had always been assumed that, despite the tendency of the Israeli government to constantly speak of "painful concessions," the nation was largely supportive of the settlement endeavor. Upon realizing that the connection between the nation and the settlers had weakened, the national religious movement began sending "garinim," seed groups to set up yeshivot in towns not previously associated with Judaism. These groups provide a place of refuge, an alternative, for those raised without knowledge of Judaism but a desire to grow and learn.

The situation became more acute in front-line towns like Sderot. For many, the crux of the Zionist argument was that Jews, living as a minority in often hostile lands, were defenseless subjects of the often violent urges and religious or racial hatred of the surrounding peoples. Zionism, the ideology that Jews should live in and rule their own land, was to remedy this ill by giving Jews the opportunity to communally defend themselves from such persecution. But in Sderot, eighteen people have already been murdered, and the airborne torment rains down unabated. Despite Israel's military superiority, its unwillingness, in an act of moral vanity, to put this ability to use, exposes Zionism as a sham. It calls into question whether the Israeli government is truly sovereign. Because Zionism can no longer answer its critics, or defend its people, the people are searching for a more believable answer.

"In a few hundred years," Rav Fendel says, "when they excavate the town, I want them to remember not that Sderot was a town with a yeshiva, but a yeshiva with a town."

The yeshivah under construction.