"I know it seems overwhelming now. But once you have your own home, your rabbi will visit your kitchen and determine what items will need to be kashered. Once that is done, things will become much clearer."
"Kashered?" Hannah asked, perplexed.
"Yes dear, certain utensils must be thoroughly heated to ensure they are appropriate for handling food. Sometimes it's done with a blowtorch."
The thought of a rabbi arriving at her home with a blowtorch seemed odd to Hannah, but with the help of Rabbi Weissman, she would soon learn that this was one of the less complex of the 613 mitzvot.
Among the most important commandments of course, was keeping Shabbat. On her first Friday in Bala Cynwyd, Hannah walked with Mrs. Blum and the Geller's to the synagogue.
The Lower Merion Synagogue was huge—much larger than any church she had attended. More people were present on this Shabbat than any Christmas Eve service Hannah attended in her youth.
Never had she felt so out of place and confused about what was going on around her. Feeling the stares of others, Hannah was certain they were aware that she was out of her element. She was completely lost in her Jewish prayer book. Her brain wasn't trained to turn pages from right to left, let alone read Hebrew.
Noticing her struggles, Mrs. Blum offered to share her siddur with Hannah, pointing to the Hebrew that was translated in English letters to help her follow along. Sweat dripped from Hannah’s brow as she tried to fake her way through the service. In her embarrassment, she found herself irrationally angry—angry at Uri for abandoning her; angry at the rabbi who insisted that they be separated; and angry at herself for taking this giant leap of faith.
She held back tears the entire service; the words and songs swirled meaningless in her head. There was chanting and nodding, praying, and singing. Suddenly, Hannah realized that the women sat separate from the men. Uri told her about the separation of gender in the Temple, but she was so overwhelmed that she only now realized that Avi Geller was nowhere to be seen. Hannah saw that Devorah sat one row in front of her; relieved that she couldn't witness her ineptitude.
When the service was finally over, Hannah walked with the others back to their houses more quiet than usual.
"Is everything ok, my dear?" Avi asked her.
"Yes," Hannah answered curtly. "I guess I am a little homesick."
"I know this seems very foreign to you, Hannah, but if it is meant to be, things will become easier, HaShem willing."
"HaShem willing," Hannah repeated, the words feeling hollow as she said them.
She noticed Devorah was silent and wondered if she secretly wished Hannah would fail in her conversion so that she could have a real Jewish daughter-in-law. She knew her judgement of Devorah was uncalled for, but she was so miserable and disoriented in her surroundings, rationality disappeared from her thinking.
After all well wishes were said, Hannah followed Mrs. Blum inside, wished her goodnight, and made her way up to her room. As she opened the door, by sheer habit, she switched on the light. Spotting a lit lamp on the corner dresser, she immediately realized her grave mistake. She quickly flipped the switch again, praying that no one in the streets or nearby houses took notice.
She collapsed into bed, crying under a quilt that wasn't hers, wishing she were at home with her parents and Tully, or at the coffee shop with Faith. Through her sobbing, she heard a knock on her door. Mrs. Blum must have noticed the light.
Hannah rose from bed and opened the door, embarrassed, and prepared to apologize for her careless mistake. Instead she noticed Mrs. Blum holding several sheets of paper.
"Sorry to bother you, my dear, but I have something for you," she said. "As you know, opening mail is prohibited on Shabbat."
Hannah did not know that, but she nodded along anyway.
Mrs. Blum continued. "This letter arrived for you well before sundown. I hope you will forgive me, but I took the liberty of opening it while you were gone. I promise that I have not read a word. When I saw the return address, I thought you could use some cheering up."
She closed her eyes as she handed Hannah the papers, making it a point to show her that she had no intention of wanting to know its contents.
"Gut Shabbos," Mrs. Blum said as she made her way down the stairs.
"Gut Shabbos," Hannah mumbled back as she closed the door. She made her way to the lamp on the small table. Her heart raced when she saw Uri's handwriting. Immediately she felt hopeful again. How strange, Hannah thought to herself, that handwriting can bring such peace.
23
Hannah’s four-hour flight was nearing its end. The captain announced that the flight attendants should prepare for landing.
As the flight attendants politely moved about the cabin collecting coffee cups and other items, Hannah opened her purse and pulled out the most recent postcard she had received from Uri.
On the cover was an old black and white photo of a couple kissing on a beach. On the back Uri wrote,
Just two more weeks, my Chana. You have been worth the wait. I can't wait to be your husband. אני אוהב אותך מאוד
Uri
AFTER TWO YEARS OF studying Hebrew, Hannah quickly recognized his ending statement as reading "I love you very much."
She tucked the postcard back into her purse as she felt the plane's slow descent. As she looked down on the lights of Tel Aviv, she remembered the very first letter she received from Uri on that lonely Shabbat evening.
DEAR HANNAH,
I can imagine things are lonely for you there, and many of our customs seem strange. I remember feeling lonely and out of place in South Dakota, and that was when I had family with me.
You are so much braver than me. When you feel lonely, remember how much I pray for you and think of you each day.
How is your father? If you talk with him, please tell him that I pray for him each day as well.
Things here in Israel are. . . different. I had forgotten how beautiful the country is, and the moment I placed my feet on the soil here I felt like I was home. It has also been nice to see my brother. Gavriel has finished his residency and is a surgeon now. I think an engagement is in his future.
Basic training is going well, yet it is grueling. Most nights I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. I am glad that my Hebrew is strong.
I am excelling in my training and it's possible that I may be selected for an elite combat squad. I am nervous and excited about this. Nervous because there have been attempted suicide bombings. I don't write this to worry you. The IDF is very well protected.
It is hard to understand how such a beautiful place can be so filled with hate. But there is much love here, too. I want so badly for you to be here with me. I want to take you to the Western Wall to pray, I want to walk on the beaches in Tel Aviv with you. I watch the families here, couples with babies, and I picture us.
There are some nights when I get very homesick. I picture you being homesick too, but I know that HaShem will reward us for our patience.
On Shabbat, when I have a lot of time to think, I think about the kisses we shared in that alley. How good it felt to touch your face and your hair.
Please write back soon. Rabbi Weissman isn't counting our letters, though I think he would like to. Be strong, Hannah, and I will be strong, too.
I love you with all my being,
Uri Full of Light
HANNAH READ THE LETTER next to the light of the lamp at least five times that lonely Shabbat.
She crawled back in bed, smelling the paper, longing for any reminder of Uri. Holding his letter to her chest, she fell asleep content.
24
As the pilot repeated his instructions for the flight attendants to prepare for landing, Hannah's heart raced.
Feeling unstrung, she closed her eyes and remembered one of the happiest days of her life—the day she immersed herself in the mikveh.
After a nerve-wracking final question and answer session from the Beit Din, the small panel remarked on the st
rong recommendation she’d received from Rabbi Weissman.
"He is especially impressed with how quickly you've learned Hebrew, your involvement with the children's program in the synagogue, and your passion for the mitzvot—particularly visiting the sick."
Flattered by the rabbi’s glowing remarks, Hannah smiled.
"Thank you," she replied before she was instructed to leave the room.
After ten long minutes, she was called back into the room, the men looking somber. One rabbi spoke on behalf of the group.
"Mazel tov, Hannah and welcome home," he said.
Hannah covered her face in disbelief.
"Please schedule your mikveh with the attendant.”
The mikveh. Her thoughts raced back to the time Uri first told her about it in the hospital, after she confided in him about her abortion. In the mikveh she would be made new, he said.
She immersed in the mikveh on a Wednesday, the same day of the week that she was born. She asked Mrs. Blum to be her attendant, and she happily obliged.
On the morning of her mikveh, Hannah arrived with clean hair with no product in it, her face bare of makeup, and every trace of polish removed from her nails. She wore no jewelry, including Uri's ring that she’d worn under her clothes for two years. She carefully trimmed her fingernails, cut her toenails, and carefully inspected her body in a full-length mirror to ensure she had no scabs or lesions. Nothing was to come between her body and the water.
Self-conscious about the small rose tattoo on her ankle, Hannah prayed no one would notice it. She and Faith indulged themselves the summer they turned eighteen, each getting a small tattoo to signify their adulthood. Hannah’s father warned that she would regret the decision. As she waited in a robe outside the doors of a small room that reminded her of a sauna, her father’s words rang true.
Mrs. Blum appeared at the door, motioning her to enter. In the corner stood three rabbis facing a wall. A sheet hung across the mikveh with a small hole, positioned perfectly so that the rabbis could see Hannah's head emerge from the water.
Shivering, she looked at Mrs. Blum who gave her a nod.
"Whenever you're ready," one of the rabbis said.
Hannah slowly walked down the stairs. Seven steps led to the mikveh, a shallow body of water reaching only to Hannah’s waist. As she walked down the concrete steps, her mind flashed back to a time she was a small child; a memory etched in her head when her father was healthy. As she descended the stairs, the memory became more vivid.
She was a little girl, no more than four years old, with her father in an indoor hot spring; the bottom of the pool was covered in rocks. Like the mikveh, the pool had several stairs that led to the water. She remembered sitting on the bottom step, the warm water of the springs flowing over her abdomen, hesitant to enter the pool.
Drifting in and out of her memory, she continued down the mikveh steps and looked at Mrs. Blum, who beamed at her proudly. She reached the last and disrobed. Hannah took a deep breath and submerged herself in the mikveh’s lukewarm water. Fully immersing herself, she held her breath. The memory of the day with her father flooded back to her.
After bravely swimming out to her father, little Hannah lost her treading and began to sink, her tip toes felt the smoothness of the rocks below her. Trying as hard as she could to keep her head above water, she panicked as water entered her lungs. She reached for her father, unable to get his attention. Just as her surroundings darkened, she felt her father's strong arms pull her out of the water as she coughed and spit up.
"I gotcha Punkin," he said, holding her over his shoulder, patting her on her back.
Now, fully immersed in the mikveh, Hannah felt a lightening; her past hurts, mistakes, and burdens departed from her body. She continued to think of her time with her father in the hot spring. She stayed under the water as long as she could hold her breath. As she came up for air, she thought of her father lifting her out of the water of the warm springs. But this time, it was HaShem bringing her up from the water. It was HaShem rescuing her from a life riddled with chaos. She heard the rabbi loudly announce, "kosher," confirming that Hannah had been completely submerged.
As instructed, Hannah recited the Hebrew blessing for immersion.
With tremendous relief, she immersed herself two more times before Mrs. Blum handed her a towel and her robe. Water and tears dripped from Hannah’s cheeks. She thought of the 16-year-old girl who’d cried for hours over a boy who abused her body. She thought of the cold, sterile abortion clinic and the sickness that gripped her that day. Her guilt perished. Her shame washed away in the warm water of the mikveh.
Years ago, she thought only of Uri when she thought of conversion, but at this moment, on this day, Uri was not in her thoughts. She could only think of HaShem. What she felt was more than love. For the first time in her life, Hannah felt justice. All the teasing she endured as a child, the anxiety she suffered in her household, the abuse she tolerated from Will—HaShem took it all away. Hannah Rose Hagen felt righteous.
Once outside the Mikveh, the rabbis were nowhere to be seen. Mrs. Blum kissed her on the cheeks.
"Mazel tov, Hannah! You are a daughter of Israel!”
In awe of her transformation, Hannah collapsed into the arms of Mrs. Blum and wept.
JOLTED FROM HER DAYDREAM as the jumbo jet’s wheels hit the runway, Hannah was reminded of her new reality. A daughter of Israel, she thought to herself, as she prepared to step foot in Israel for the first time.
A flight attendant's voice came over the intercom. "Welcome to Ben Gurion International Airport, where the time is 9:07pm. . ."
Sitting towards the back of the large plane, Hannah uncharacteristically waited patiently. She closed her eyes and prayed to HaShem. A brand-new life awaited her once she stepped out of the terminal.
As she entered the spacious airport in Tel Aviv, she left Hannah Hagen behind her.
She walked onto Israeli soil as Chana Geller. Her husband, Uri, was waiting inside to greet her.
25
Before meeting Uri at the baggage claim, Chana found the nearest restroom to freshen up. She adjusted her tichel, brushed her teeth, and touched up her makeup. It had only been two months since their wedding, but she was as nervous as she was the day that Mrs. Murphy announced that Uri would be her chemistry partner nearly three years earlier.
Although their wedding was elaborate and traditionally Jewish, Uri's visit home was shortened due to his training schedule. They shared one night together when the marriage was consummated. It was not what they had hoped. While Uri was apprehensive and shaky, Chana was exhausted from ensuring that she adhered to all the proper rules and traditions
The next day her period arrived unexpectedly, so she and Uri were not allowed to touch each other during her niddah. Two days later, Uri flew back to Israel. She yearned to spend unlimited time with him in a bedroom, without the stress of family outside their door.
She left the restroom and made her way to the baggage claim. Several armed IDF soldiers in uniform hovered near the area, almost all of them wearing kippahs. With their backs turned to her, it seemed impossible for Chana to find Uri.
She cautiously made her way around the baggage claim belt when she heard his voice.
"Chana!"
On the other side of the crowded baggage claim stood Uri in full uniform, wearing a red beret and red boots, and armed with a rifle. She was so taken aback by his handsomeness that she stood frozen for a moment, absorbing the reality that he was there, just feet away from her.
As he walked towards her, she was once again in awe of his lovely face. She remembered the first time she made eye contact with him, at that autumn football game. She never imagined herself standing in Israel as his wife, only a few years later.
"You look beautiful, Chana!" he exclaimed. They were both aware that it would not be appropriate to embrace or kiss each other in public. "Have you seen your luggage yet?"
Still stunned by his appearance, Chana stared at him, sl
ow to respond. She looked at the hundreds of pieces of luggage on the belt and quickly spotted one of her bags.
"There's one," she said, walking to get it, but Uri beat her to it, picking up the 60-pound bag as it was a gallon of milk.
"Do you have another one?" he asked, anxious to leave the crowd.
"Yes, there it is. I'll get it," Chana said, but Uri insisted that he carry it.
"I can carry one," Chana persisted. "How can you manage those and that giant gun?"
"You like the gun, don't you?" He winked at her.
"Maybe," she responded. "I really like the uniform."
"Really? It was so hot today; I can't wait to take it off."
"I can't wait for you to take it off, either," Chana grinned.
"Chana Geller, you haven't changed a bit." He smiled at her with that same gapped tooth smile that won her heart three years earlier.
After waiting in long immigration and custom lines and presenting her documents, the couple finally arrived outside.
It was a breezy night in Tel Aviv—the air was warm with moisture of the Mediterranean Sea. Having only seen the ocean from an airplane window, Chana was filled with anticipation to walk the beach, to witness the surf and the waves.
Once at the car, Uri put the luggage in the trunk and opened Chana's door for her.
"Aren't you a gentleman?" she told him sweetly.
He smiled as he made his way to the driver's side. As soon as he got into the car, she wanted to kiss him.
"Chana," Uri said quite seriously. "I am afraid I have some bad news."
"What is it?" She was so tired from traveling, the last thing she wanted to do was ruin the night by crying.
"I've been called up for drills this week. So tomorrow I've arranged for Gavriel and his wife to take you to our house in Jerusalem. They will give you a tour of the city and keep you entertained."
Uri Full of Light Page 12
