Invitation to the Dance
Henri Goettel

From May 26 - June 3, 2008, a strong contingent of International Alumni of the Florence Melton Adult Mini-School gathered in Jerusalem for their Annual Retreat.  During these ten days in Jerusalem the participants took a close look at the ultra-Orthodox way of life with much thought and discussion on the provocative issues of the Haredi world and their place in Israeli society.  Henri Goettel, a graduate of the Kansas City Mini-School shares with us her experience on the Kallah.

The last night of the Kallah, the evening of June 3rd, I sat in the audience at the amphitheater at Hebrew University on Mt. Scopus. I was thoroughly engrossed in a performance by the Batsheva Dance Company, and was only occasionally distracted by the small handfuls of lights appearing in the Judean desert beyond the stage.  In the midst of an energetic piece that began with—of all things—the theme from Hawaii Five-O, the dancers unexpectedly left the stage for the aisles of the amphitheater.  Suddenly I found myself looking up at the outstretched hand of a young male dancer dressed in a black suit and a fedora hat.  I stood and took his hand; he led me back down the steps to the stage to join other similar dancer/audience couples in several minutes of joyous movement to a variety of American standard tunes.

I have no idea what the remainder of this piece looked like to those who watched it, or—for that matter—what the other couples were doing.  I remained focused on my partner, who spoke to me only with his movements, until just as suddenly, he said “todah rabah” and led me to an aisle.  “todah l’cha” I replied and walked up the steps and across the aisle back into the audience.  I sat down on a step, breathless and stunned, until Sandy Aronovitz arrived to lead me back to my seat.

Again and again my Melton friends—and several total strangers—asked me the same question: “How did you know what to do?  Was he talking to you?”  I had to think about that: How did we manage to fool anyone into thinking we might actually be dancing as a couple, rather than one trained professional and one clueless tomato?

This, I think, is how: I let myself remain open to the handsome young man in the fedora hat.  Open to his eyes, his facial expression, his hands, his body language.  I didn’t let the obvious messages (“What on earth am I doing here?  How much of a fool am I making of myself?”) in all of their endless variations penetrate my consciousness.  I just…was.

So what does any of this have to do with the value of the dollar in Israel?  I wonder: During the Kallah my reactions to the Haredim that we had the opportunity to learn from were so different from many of my classmates’.  Does this willingness to remain open in the presence of the other help me understand why?

Understand, I’m no cockeyed optimist.  I feel the concerns about the physical and emotional health of Haredi women and children.  I am clear about the demands of the Haredi way of life on the Israeli economy, the security of the state, and the power plays in the Knesset.  I know that living in a closed community can promote stinging judgmental remarks toward outsiders.  I do not argue over the reality of any of this.

Nevertheless, these are the memories I choose to take away from this Kallah:

• Jonathan Rosenblum’s ease of movement between the Haredi and outer worlds, and his willingness to speak languages that residents of both communities can understand
• Sarah, my hevruta at Neve Yerushalayim, who entered the seminary because she felt something missing in her modern Orthodox practice in New York, but who will begin a business degree at Columbia after she finishes at Neve next year
• Rav Lawrence Keleman’s loving portrayal of his teacher, Rav Shlomo Wolbe, who taught him that every person has a unique mission in the world: “You must never imitate another Jew.  Instead you must work to uncover yourself.”
• Social worker Phillip Yakar’s success in organizing Haredi community members to help each other
• Shadchanit Heather Serrota’s persistent, thorough, good-humored care in helping Torah observant Jews find their eventual spouses
• Deputy Mayor Yitzchak Pindrus’ visionary skills in developing and administering Beitar Illit, the town that may offer a glimpse of a better future for the haredi community (and remember: he learned it all by studying Talmud!)
• Sylvia Martin Shine’s wonderful stories about the indefatigability of Rav Shlomo Kahaneman
• Steve Markowitz’ amazement at being welcomed into Rav Eliezer Kahaneman’s extended family despite his not being haredi himself
• The history of pre-State Israel found in the names of Irgun, Etzel, and Stern Gang members on the yahrzeit wall of the tiny shul where Rav Aryeh Levine davened while standing on the trap door covering their weapons cache
• The loving welcome that Batsheva and Uriel Mallul will provide everyone—haredi or not, Jew or not—who shares the salad we helped make for Shabbat dinner at Ichlu Re’im

In each of these memories, I see a person and a lesson of value.  I see individuals whose positive actions should not be lost in the overwhelming concerns about the Haredi community as a whole.  I have to ask: Are there more such individuals?  How can there not be.  To see them we have only to be open to them.

In this Kallah we asked, how will Israel’s future meet its past?  Perhaps with a glimmer of hope, of creative takenah (fixing), even a bit of hidush (innovation).  Perhaps these very individuals hold some of the answers.  Perhaps there are others.  Meanwhile, I choose to remain open, to accept the outstretched hand of the young man in the fedora hat.  I choose to accept the invitation to the dance.

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