By Chani Gopin
There’s a groom! There’s a bride! How wonderful, “to life”!
How’s Tzfas?
Enjoying the air? The scenery? The atmosphere?
Um…
I didn’t have an immediate answer.
Not because we aren’t enjoying. Not because there’s no atmosphere. Just because geography isn’t the one dictating our weather. Usually. I wonder if it’s specifically related to the wedding or acquired life skills over the years. I think even my years of mission work contributed a lot to shaping this climatic autonomy. Another blog in the making. I recall frustration from the lack of sync between outside and inside.
Especially before holidays. You’re waiting to feel the upcoming holiday. To sense it with one of your senses. To hear. To see. To touch. But there’s nothing. The streets in Lugansk today are like yesterday’s. Probably tomorrow too. No reminder of the approaching Hanukkah. And you ask yourself – is tomorrow a holiday? We grew up on streets that tell stories. Shops selling accessories. Markets. Even if you forgot which month you’re in, landmarks would guide you back to the map. But on the mission, the codes have changed. No markers. You always need to remember. To remind yourself, the kids, where you are on the calendar.
At some point, you stop expecting. You throw your hands up. A bit despondent. Realizing this is what it is. And then a new insight forms. A more mature one. Empowering. You’re the artist of your life. You are yourself. Without a beret. Just a palette of colors. A canvas. A brush. You paint everything. The appearance and the voice.
A person paints their life. Reality, emotions. Birthing feelings. It’s exhausting. Sometimes. You want to live in a world where you react to stimuli. Not exhausted by creating moments. But that’s reality. In life. Certainly in a mission.
That’s what we do. We learned to do it. In Kyiv before the wedding. In Safed during the wedding week. Painting the way. Choosing the shapes. The colors. Shades. And tones. Also composing the melody. The notes. Composing refrains…
I think the war and the recent years shaped this realization in me through different experiences. You don’t truly control your life. At least not most of it. You can pray. Ask. But the outcome isn’t in your hands. Not yours. What then? The path. You’re the one walking it. You’re the one charging it. Years of uncertainty, almost becoming permanent residents in our lives in recent years, made me understand, even accept, that if something is incumbent upon me, it’s the duty to strive. A duty that is a right. To paint the way. To invest in shapes. Colors. Also in sounds. Let it be beautiful. Flourishing. Full of vibrancy and nuances. Especially when it comes to a significant family event, one I’m unsure how it will look, where, in what context. I only have control over the path. I’ll invest my strength, my mind, and without reservations. I’ll also ask the Almighty for success.
That’s what happened this time (again) with Yossi and Hana’le’s wedding. The path started smoothly. Such a clear route. Accessible. Then it started to zigzag. A bit confusing. An emergency situation in the country. And here? A wedding. Close. On time. In an idyllic hall. Near the northern border. That’s where it positioned itself. And maybe a war will break out there too… You find it hard to sleep out of worry. Saturated. Too much. Tired. Done. The vessel is full. No room for the seed of worry. Struggling to find a thread of peace. You’ve accustomed, supposedly, to extreme living. “You’re already used to it…”. An illusion. An illusion. You’re not accustomed. It’s delusion. A person seeks stability in life. A pillar. That’s the main stress. Morning and night, you receive messages from invitees – the wedding in the north? Not changing locations? Or from close ones in the country, wondering if the wedding will proceed as scheduled, maybe waiting…
A swaying movement. You start to oscillate. A familiar, rocking motion. The wind hits you in the face. Trying to penetrate deep within.
On the last Shabbat before our trip to the wedding in Israel, we organized a unity Shabbat in the community due to the situation. It was a magical atmosphere. For an Ukrainian Jew these days, it’s natural to identify with the pain of the Jews in the land. It was a unifying and heartwarming Shabbat. A Shabbat full of joy. A family Shabbat. During a peace-filled meal, Shlomo sincerely shared our complex situation with the wedding and asked, “If I were to consult with you whether to postpone the wedding or not, what would you say?” It intrigued me. Interesting to hear what a Jew, who isn’t committed to the Jewish custom of not postponing a wedding, would say. I closed my ears.
“No way.” “Joy doesn’t get postponed.” “A wedding doesn’t move.” “Not a good sign to change the date.”
I thought about it. If Levi with Israel had lived his life in constant turmoil to the wind, whether in Kyiv or Safed, it would have been a hidden disaster. A person whose entire life is buffeted can’t allow themselves to be influenced by external winds, be they fierce or fearful. Certainly not in matters regarding building a home. Continuity. Questions of existence and perpetuity.
So the wedding isn’t moved from the set date. Nor the location. In times of war or times of peace. But how do you calm the internal storm that doesn’t rest? When it seems there’s no strength… Trying to approach the complexity that’s arisen as a business case. No less. No more. Without exaggerating. Not going off track. Not letting in worries that aren’t under my control. Activate filters. Big ones. Protective. Not entering into jeopardy – “It’s happening to us again…”. Pessimism doesn’t promote. It belittles.
What does?
To drive on a two-lane road. On the right path. Even against it. Containing within yourself two contradictory movements. Possible. On one side, to live the complexity that’s formed. To be attentive. Not ignore. Examine reality. To savor it. Also driving parallel on the opposite path as if there’s no war. There’s a destination – a wedding. On this path, you drive straight. Confidently. It’s the place. The right time. Turning up the volume in the car and singing. Joyful. Happy. You. Your children. Those around you. To sweep them away with joy. Four cubits of attachment.
Also the community. For a groom not at home, not in the place of the mission, it’s not natural. Not usual. Such a prick. You’d want the community to participate. To dance. To rejoice. Hand in hand. But it’s less feasible. Especially today. Ukraine in war. No one leaves the country. So what do you do? How do you connect to the experience? How do you make the community part of the event?
We found a way. “Zag lechayim” – children of Gopin with the Avolon community in a joint clip. So magical. Special. “There’s a groom. There’s a bride. How wonderful. To life!” For a few days, the community hummed the song. So did we. Learning to paint an atmosphere. To create. With confidence. And even when lacking…
Hashem doesn’t leave us indebted. It was an emotional, particularly joyous wedding. Quiet in the south. Quiet in the north. Joy in the heart. Faith and confidence. The journey ended. Landing back to life. A young couple building life. May it be for life and for blessings!
VIDEO:
Absolutely delightful! This made my day. Moshiach NOW!