Preface
My son got married in Israel, less than two months ago. When I returned home from the wedding, I knew I wanted to send out pictures, along with my impressions. I must warn you that I have not been objective in my reporting of this wedding. Israel was at war. October 7th was, (and still is), a raw and recent memory. I wanted to see the wedding as a palpable indication of what Zaloo had embroidered on the train of her gown: the Israel flag, and above in Hebrew, “the Jewish people live”.
I wanted to be inspired. I was not disappointed.
Introduction
Our son Kenny, still single at 36, fulfilled a long-standing dream and moved to Israel, about nine years ago. A year ago, having just turned 45, Kenny met Zaloo, seven years younger. Zaloo, like Kenny, was an observant Jew, not Israeli born. She was eight when her family arrived in Israel after a perilous journey.
What can I tell you about Kenny? He is serious, well-educated and hard-working. He loves being independent and on his own. He is sober, thrifty and endowed with supreme patience. He was willing to wait until the ideal woman happened by; one who could share his life and his future aspirations for a family embedded in a Jewish, Zionistic future, (with G-d’s help).
When we finally heard about Zaloo, maybe in early summer, we weren’t sure how her name was spelled, as Kenny usually referred to her as “Queen Zee”. When we finally met her, we could see why.
However, while Zaloo is regal, she is not Egyptian like Nefertiti. Her origins trace back to a kingdom more to the south of Egypt, known since the biblical days of Solomon and Sheba. Zaloo is a member of an ancient people, known to themselves as ‘Beta Israel’, or Ethiopian Jews.
The odds of someone Kenny’s age marrying for the first time are rather slim, and to be honest, Sondra and I had almost given up hope. We had no expectations. When we finally met Zaloo in August, at a granddaughter’s Bat Mitzvah in Jerusalem, we were ‘bowled over’. I don’t want to lavish too much praise on Zaloo. Yes, she is fantastic, she is a standout; but in truth, so are my other daughter-in-laws, Sharon and Irene. I am, after all, a Jewish grandfather; all my children, their wives, and each and every granddaughter is above average, with stellar qualities. How could it be otherwise?
Zaloo spent her childhood in rural Ethiopia, growing up with her widowed mother, brothers and sisters, in harsh circumstances. She told me the first time in her life that she held a pencil in her hand, was at age eight, in an Israeli holding camp waiting for El Al passage to Israel. She told all this to me matter-of-factly, while we were trailing behind others, heading for lunch. As I recalled her position in Israel’s Civil Service and her past accomplishments, including membership in the Israel Bar and two post-graduate degrees, I suddenly saw her in a different light. Abraham Lincoln, growing up in a log cabin, could claim no more humbler beginnings.
Wedding Plans and October 7th
Zaloo wanted to be married near her family’s home. She comes from Yavne, a town in central Israel, and the home of a substantial Beta Israel community. By the end of September, she and Kenny had firmed up plans to be married officially in nearby Ness Ziona on November 27th, and had arranged for follow-up traditional ceremonies back in Yavne, two days later on the 29th. When I first got wind of their intention to marry, I naively assumed I would be attending a quiet sedate ceremony in some Rabbi’s study. After all, Zaloo and Kenny are over the age of 30, and presumably from their demographics alone, they would prefer smaller, more modest formalities. Imagine my surprise learning they contracted for 500 people at Ness Ziona, and expected an equal number, or more, in Yavne, 2 days later.
And then October 7th happened. Initially it sounded familiar; someone is always firing rockets into Israel; terrorists are always (tragically) murdering, or trying to murder, Israelis. By the time I spoke to Kenny, 24 hours after the attack, I knew it was not the usual fracas, but I still didn’t know its full extent. Kenny spoke to me from the Jerusalem area, and was far away from Gaza. Kenny had much earlier served in the IDF and I knew he was not easily ruffled. I asked how they were, and he said that he and Zaloo were “shook up”. Simply by those two words, I knew for sure that something well out of the ordinary had occurred and Israel’s response would likewise not be routine.
By late October and early November, the Israel-Hamas war was in full swing, and uncertainty ruled. All plans were suspended pending some indication of where the future was heading. Would a wedding still occur; would the government allow people to congregate in groups of more than 20, or more than 50 people? Were there shelters at the wedding venue, where we could run, in case an alert happened while we were still in the open, under an outdoor chuppah, (wedding canopy)? Our flight on United Airlines had been cancelled. Could we still get to Israel? Except for El Al flights, mostly filled with volunteers and returning reservists, nothing was flying in and out of Ben Gurion. David, who had earlier booked airline tickets for Sharon and their three girls, decided that he only would attend; he prudently did not want to expose his wife and children to risk. Daniel likewise decided that he would not take anyone in his family, but would come alone.
Jerusalem in mid-November
By the middle of November, things were beginning to settle down. We were now in the second month of the war. Tel Aviv and central Israel, including Yavne and Ness Ziona, were still receiving alerts and occasional rockets, but the pace of attacks had slowed. We had managed to rebook our flights on El Al, and arrived in Jerusalem on Tuesday, 6 days before the wedding. The terminal was largely empty and strangely quiet, but we were not able to zip in and out as we might hope. Before passport control, for example, we still had to funnel through stanchions and form up into queues. The columns of passengers slowed, paused and congealed before three illuminated windows in a long band of darkened booths. It was eerie.
We had been to Israel numerous times, beginning with our honeymoon in 1971. Jerusalem seemed little changed despite the war, although some underlying anxiety could be sensed. Sondra believed there were less people out and about. It is always standard to see young soldiers carrying automatic weapons everywhere in Jerusalem, in the streets, markets, and buses. For someone like myself, in favor of gun control, I always had to reassure myself by remembering that those carrying arms were trained and responsible. On this trip, however, it seemed that more people than usual were carrying automatic weapons. Some were middle aged, and in civilian clothes, which I never remembered seeing before. I wasn’t worried about anyone suddenly going amok, but I did feel concern that if there was a terrorist incident anywhere in my vicinity, a half dozen people might start firing, and bullets might be flying indiscriminately under the pressure of the moment. There was nothing to be done. It was another reminder of October 7th, another instance of how things change; we were no longer “back in the day”, when we boarded airplanes without being scanned or taking off our shoes.
In Jerusalem, we hardly saw and barely spoke to Kenny or Zaloo, so busy were they with preparations. Kenny had planned meals at their new apartment for two Saturdays; one before, and one after the wedding. The pre-wedding Shabbat meal was following his ‘aufruf’ that morning in shul. An aufruf, (in Yiddish, "calling up”), is an Ashkenazi custom among Orthodox Jews, wherein a prospective groom is called to the Torah shortly before his wedding. He is given one of seven ‘aliyah’s, the honor of making a blessing over the Torah as it’s read. Afterward, the groom receives a blessing from the person conducting the reading. It’s a lovely custom, which concludes with singing and dancing. It can be rambunctious at times. I participated to the extent I could, but mostly I watched the proceedings from the side; feeling both a little strange yet profoundly grateful to see my middle-aged son being pelted by candy.
On the day of the aufruf, after services, we all gathered for lunch on the pre-wedding Shabbat. Zaloo was in Yavne with her family, and was not at the lunch. Sondra’s older sister, Fran, came with many of her family, now spanning four generations. (We were always comforted, back in America, to know that this group of warm, funny talented people, had become Kenny’s ‘Israel family’, and were an integral part of his life. Twenty years ago, when he was serving in the IDF, if he were nearby on duty, they would drive out to drop off pizza for him and his comrades.) Returning from the synagogue, we filed into the apartment, and soon the two long tables that Sondra and I helped set up were filled.
Although I am trying to maintain the chronology of my narration, I will jump ahead to the post-wedding Shabbat lunch, which occurred exactly seven days later, again, at Kenny and Zaloo’s new apartment. Keep in mind that in between these two Saturdays, like bookends to the week, we had a wedding on Monday in Ness Ziona; and Beta Israel ceremonies two days later in Yavne. During this time, two large families, from very different cultures, (Ashkenazi and Beta Israel), had come together, mingled and celebrated together. Maybe at times they came together somewhat tentatively, maybe even warily — but always harmoniously and with a smile. Nonetheless, in my judgement, weddings are not the place where you can meet and talk to new people. The reason I bring up the post-wedding Shabbat meals is that both families were present. About a dozen from each family, sat at two long tables. The tables were apart, but the people were close enough to interact. Thus, for the first time I got some sense of Zaloo’s ‘people’, as my brother from Louisiana might have said, (in his Southern drawl, may his memory be for a blessing). Both families sat and spoke, laughed and joked, at the ironies accompanying this recent union.
Before I return to my chronology, I want to make clear that growing up Jewish in Dallas was nothing like Sondra’s experience of growing up in the orthodox environment of Brooklyn. My own wedding 51 years ago in New York was the second orthodox wedding I had ever attended in my life. (The first was Sondra’s cousin 2 months before, which constituted my introduction to her family.) Almost all the events of Kenny’s wedding were totally unknown to me in Dallas. I had never witnessed traditions like ‘aufruf’ and ‘sheva brochot’. They were not even words I would recognize. Thus I could identify with Kenny’s sudden introduction to a new unfamiliar religious culture. I had been in his shoes.
The Wedding in Ness Ziona
We stayed in Jerusalem as did most people. Zaloo and Kenny had rented a bus for transportation to the wedding. Because we had to be there early for pictures, we rented a car and drove to Ness Ziona. It was an easy drive, less than a hour. It had rained that entire Monday, but somehow, (as with so much), the rains let up, and the ceremonies under an outdoor chuppah were unaffected. It seemed as if something was controlling events, and the world had gone ‘on pause’. Our earlier concerns about being in the open during an alert could be put aside. A ‘humanitarian pause’ between Hamas and Israel began right before the pre-wedding Shabbat and ended right afterwards a week later. The marriage took place during a brief bubble of calm.
The venue that Zaloo and Kenny had picked for the wedding was lovely. The building must have been built at the top of an elevation. We entered at one end of a very large room, with an abundant ‘shmorg’, and the opportunity to taste the kosher versions of dishes from many cultures — Israel (Ashkenazi and Sephardic), Mexican, Chinese, Japanese — and Beta Israel. The room ended with stairs and a terrace railing, looking down on an expansive dance floor, with tables set around. This was the ‘party room’, with a high glass wall and double doors leading out to a garden with a walkway, or ‘aisle’, that terminated at a raised wooden platform holding the chuppah.
The wedding itself proceeded as one might expect. I have selected pictures which I hope conveys the activity of the night. Thus, I have generally skipped over shots of the bride and groom, posing with family and friends — you know, the kinds of photos that end up on mantels and walls. If my selection fails to do justice in highlighting the bride and groom, (particularly Zaloo, as it was her night), I apologize. My excuse is in going through the (literally) thousands of pictures from the wedding, available on line, made me think that this was more than simply two people getting married. I wanted to somehow unroll the evening for you. Perhaps, as you scroll down your screen, you might have that sense of it as well.
Sondra and I left around midnight; we still had to drive back to Jerusalem. Besides, we were due in Yavne for the Beta Israel ceremonies in less than 40 hours, and we didn’t want to be exhausted. (The Beta Israel celebration will be covered in a separate future Substack ‘report’.)
The party was in full swing when we pulled out of the parking lot; and we heard that the younger and more energetic people kept going until 3 o’clock in the morning. I knew Kenny’s brothers, Daniel and David, had stayed until 2:30 AM, so I texted them, “Hey guys. I’m polishing my Substack report on Kenny’s wedding. Mom and I left around midnight; how late did the dancing continue; did the ‘mechitza’, [the temporary partition set up to separate the men and women as they danced in groups], come down; if so, what time? An approximation or whatever your memory can supply will do.”
Both texted back within the hour. Daniel texted, “The mechitza was completely gone around the time you left. David and I stayed until 2:30 AM and the party was still going strong. Kenny and Zaloo got up onto the DJ stand, with everyone cheering them. It was an amazing experience. We exchanged ‘shots’ (the good kind) with our new and old ‘Cousins’; all of us taking a reprieve from a war.” David, texting later, added, “The mood was very festive, a lot of fun. People danced to a variety of music, some American, some Israeli, some Ethiopian.”
For me, it will always remain a ‘miracle’ wedding, something never imagined. It was firmly anchored in Jewish traditions, taking place in an atmosphere of love, within a wartime Israel fighting for its future, against a cruel unyielding enemy determined to stamp out the Jewish state. It was, despite all, a wedding that embodied the inscription on Zaloo’s wedding train, “Am Yisrael Chai”.
And now I will close out this Substack report with a farewell from your hosts, the Rosen and Adisu families: (from the left), Eyasu-Asi, Daniel, David, Me, Zaloo, Kenny, Tzahai, Sondra, Moran, Einadis, Yeshinat, Anava, Ran.
Shalom.
This is a comment made from my site from the link in Sondra's email.