When we first made the arrangements for the brit milah, traveling to Europe from Israel didn’t seem so crazy. But in between booking the flights and the day of the event, things changed, significantly. Of course, Israel has been at war since October 7.
Rockets have been raining down multiple times a day for almost seven months. But when Iran fired over 300 projectiles at us, it was different. It seemed like the region could be heading toward World War III.
People were posting on social media that at times like these, they needed to come home. It felt weird to be headed in the other direction. But as the date of my travel approached, Israel’s airspace had been reopened and it seemed fine to go. The only question was: would I make it back before Israel retaliated?
Due to the current situation, direct flights are hard to come by, so travel to my destination took an entire day in either direction. The morning after my arrival, I was able to catch Shacharit in the town’s 200-year-old synagogue. The structure was breathtaking. The building had many interesting facets, from intricate carvings in the walls and ceilings to backless benches for pews.
I spent the day zipping around the city with the baby’s father. Unlike other trips I’ve done, this gave us ample time to connect. The father grew up in the small town and was able to give me insights and take me to locations that only the most seasoned local would know about.
The truth is – although I haven’t spent much time with them – I’ve known the couple for a few years. The mother of the baby converted to Judaism with the Beit Din I sit on. Just after the conversion, I was blessed to marry them in the hills of Efrat. The two live an observant lifestyle and are deeply connected to the Jewish community. But that doesn’t mean everything is a bed of roses.
The conversion the mother underwent is not recognized by their local rabbinic establishment. Needless to say, this has not been easy for the parents. Although the lay members of the community fully accept her as Jewish, the father is not even given an aliyah to the Torah because – to some views – he’s married out of the faith. And because of this, they would not allow the local mohel to perform the brit milah. But it didn’t end there.
The family was not given permission to hold the simcha in the synagogue. They were relegated to a nearby social hall above a bowling alley. I’ve performed britot in many different places in Israel. In fact, one was even held in a bar. But it feels different when the event is in Israel. Here, Judaism is everywhere. All of the locations people choose to hold their events are part of the Jewish complex. The bar is where Jews go for their social hour.
Feeling as if banished
OUTSIDE OF Israel, however, this location felt like a banishment. The Jewish life of that community is enacted in the synagogue, a facility rich with so much history. Yet this family had to hear the crashing of bowling pins while their son was brought into the covenant. That’s not to say that it wasn’t a beautiful occasion. Their traditions are so unique to the community, it felt as if I’d never done a brit before. But it seemed wrong that they weren’t allowed to hold their son’s brit milah where his father’s had taken place many years prior.
This unfortunate reality made me leave Europe with a bad taste in my mouth. I was honored to have helped their son become a full member of the Jewish community, but I worried for his future. Would he be able to go to the local Jewish school? How difficult would the rabbinic establishment make his life even though he is 100% halachically Jewish? It made me want to forsake Judaism outside of Israel.
As I waited in the airport for my connecting flight home, I took out my tallit and tefillin to pray the morning service. This can be an uncomfortable situation at times. A man sat down across from me as I began to don the religious articles. It felt a bit awkward but I pressed on because time was tight.
Out of the corner of my eye, I was shocked to see the man take out his own siddur and religious items for prayer. In all my years of travel, outside of an El Al flight, this was the first time I had ever prayed with someone else in this way. It was as if God was telling me not to lose faith. That the Jews of the world will figure things out and find a way to pray together – someday, somehow.
Within 12 hours of landing home, Israel struck back at Iran. It felt like I had dodged a bullet. I don’t think we could have planned the trip better. It’s an amazing thing that when tensions rise in the Middle East, Israelis – unlike tourists visiting the country – run towards the danger. It’s not as if we seek to be part of these tensions. It’s just that when your home is under attack, you need to be with your family.
The same is true of the Jewish world as a whole. There are many among us who are suffering from Judaism’s internal strife. These Jews are being pushed away by those who should be welcoming them with open arms. We have to do whatever we can to help ease that pain and help them become full-fledged members of our nation – no matter the cost.
The writer is a rabbi, a wedding officiant, and a mohel who performs britot (ritual circumcisions) and conversions in Israel and worldwide. Based in Efrat, he is the founder of Magen HaBrit, an organization protecting the practice of brit milah and the children who undergo it.