“Rabbis, please wait until we ask you to proceed. At our call, have the brides begin to circle their grooms and be certain they have made the rounds seven times.”
On a sunny but humid day in Parsippany, New Jersey, ten brides were about to take the plunge. Not any old plunge. This time, they would be marrying their husbands under the chuppah. Each couple had married the first time civilly. Now, to make it proper and official under Jewish law, the chassanim and kallos were standing under canopies in the presence of rabbis, family, and friends.
These Jewish brides and grooms, all from the former Soviet Union, were participating in a Gala Wedding engineered by Rabbi Mordechai and Mrs. Shterney Kanelsky and the Bris Avrohom Center in Hillside, New Jersey. From this day forward, they will be halachically married. Like more than 900 others who sanctified their marriages under the chuppah during the 33 years of Gala Weddings, their journeys were not easy. For some, the process took months, for many, the voyage was an arduous, thought-provoking one that spanned the course of years.
The wedding, although far from a typical frum chasunah, has all the trappings – including a delightful smorgasbord, soft music, and lovely flowers. The brides dress in white suits or dresses and beautiful white hats; the men wear dark suits and sport kippot. For the badekin, there are ten ornate chairs in which the brides await their beloved chassanim. And finally, under the chuppah, the couples will experience the first sentiments of a kosher marriage.
Zhana, one of the brides, is a bubbe. Life in the former Soviet Union, she remembers, was not easy. She remembers how a friend managed to get married under a chuppah in the Ukraine, but a day later was fired from his prestigious job. Jews didn’t know whom to approach or trust when it came to any kind of religious observance. Unless they took their observance completely underground, they were bound to be caught.
While Bris Avrohom’s original mission was primarily directed towards performing brissim, as the organization grew and it was no longer necessary to do an average of ten circumcisions a week, there was an increased focus on Jewish education and observance.
Rabbi Kanelsky’s concern with the issue of Jewish education is evident as he recalls the story of a young couple who wanted to meet with him to discuss officiating at their wedding. They wanted a Russian rabbi since most family members were Russian speaking. The wedding, however, was going to be at a treif restaurant. Sometimes, the rabbi is successful in changing these kinds of plans, but just as often it’s too late, usually when the bills have already been paid. Still, he can frequently convince the bride to light Shabbos candles. “It’s not her fault,” Rabbi Kanelsky is quick to point out. “All she knows about her Judaism is that her name is Miriam.”
It is this glaring manifestation of Jewish ignorance that has sparked Rabbi and Mrs. Kanelsky’s dedication to informing and enhancing the Russian Jewish community’s relationship with Judaism.
On a cold day in November 1984, the personal secretary of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Hodakov, called Rabbi Kanelsky. He told the rabbi that he had been notified of a large contingent of Jews in New Jersey who had been married without a chuppah; Russian Jews in particular. “He explained to me the importance of getting married with a chuppah and using a mikvah,” remembers Rabbi Kanelsky. “But it wasn’t until he called me a few months later that I realized the seriousness of the matter.”
That second phone call was motivation enough for the rabbi to try to make something happen. But after making dozens of phone calls and being rebuffed again and again, Rabbi Kanelsky started losing hope. “No one was interested in hearing about marriage with a chuppah. I didn’t feel like I was getting anywhere.”
A few months later, Rabbi Kanelsky’s secretary passed on a phone message from someone he had never heard of. He didn’t think much of it until he turned on his car radio and heard on 1010 WINS that this very same person was pledging $100,000 to fight terrorism. The rabbi quickly called him back and was surprised to hear that this man had seen his picture in the local newspaper, the Bergen Record, and was excited to support Bris Avrohom.
“I gave him my address and said tizku l’mitzvos,” says Rabbi Kanelsky. “He said, what does that mean? I explained to him in my broken English that in order not to diminish a mitzvah, you don’t say thank you, you say tizku l’mitzvos. I explained the concept a little more to him and he told me that he liked it. In fact, he liked it so much he said ‘I’m doubling my donation.’”
The next week, the man told Rabbi Kanelsky that he had a dream for some time of making a wedding for Russian couples that will be an event to remember. He had spoken to many rabbis from all different branches of Judaism, including conservative and reform rabbis, but no one would agree to make this wedding a reality.
“I have the same dream,” replied Rabbi Kanelsky. “But I don’t have a sponsor.” He immediately offered to foot the bill.
The rabbi, with his booming voice and contagious enthusiasm, and his wife, with her ready smile and tireless efforts, started making calls, intent on finding couples that were interested and willing to be involved in this novel idea. They mostly reached out to individuals with whom they already had a relationship, like those for whom they had done brissim, their children and grandchildren, and people they sent to yeshiva. After four months, they had successfully enlisted twenty couples, as per the sponsor’s requirements.
The Kanelskys, however, still had some formidable obstacles in their way. Although they had persuaded forty individuals to take part in a traditional Jewish wedding ceremony, many of their relatives were opposed to the idea. “Their children try to convince them not to because they feel that that’s demonstrating that until now, they’ve been living out of wedlock and the children are illegitimate.” Still, after overcoming all the concerns posed by family members, the man, if he had not yet had one, had to agree to a bris, and the woman had to agree to go to the mikvah.
According to Mrs. Kanelsky, there are many couples who would gladly accept the prospect of being married under a chuppah if not for the price tag of a bris and mikvah visit. “It’s a long process,” admits Mrs. Kanelsky. “Sometimes it takes months, or even a few years to convince them through our yearly events. My husband compares it to a root canal, meeting after meeting. I like to say that we never give up until we stop trying.”
The best way to convince the women, she has found, is to show them the beauty of the mitzvah of mikvah from a physical, spiritual, and marital perspective. Bris Avrohom’s Bat Sheva Chaya Esther Mikvah, which feels more like a top-of-the-line spa, is just the place for that. The luxurious preparation rooms boast Jacuzzis, granite countertops, soft music, and stunning mosaics. Floor tiles are heated to ensure complete comfort, and a complimentary selection of perfumes are provided to round out the experience. Nearly all of Bris Avrohom’s Russian newlyweds (and many others too) visit this gold-standard mikvah as they begin their marriages anew and embark upon a life that now includes a commitment to taharas hamishpacha.
It is a far cry from the icy waters that Mrs. Kanelsky’s predecessors used in the former Soviet Union. Shivering in the below 20 degree weather, her grandparents made their long journey in the pitch black to the dangerous and frigid waters of the river mikvah. Axe in hand, her grandfather would chop a small area of the freezing water so that his wife could immerse and say the blessing. “It is amazing to see how one can observe the mitzvah with such great self-sacrifice,” declares Mrs. Kanelsky. “And the biggest miracle was that she never got even a slight cold from those freezing waters.”
Although things were easier for her mother than her grandmother, adherence to the laws of mikvah still required incredible tenacity. There was an actual mikvah structure available to her mother, but it required traveling for 72 hours every month via a train whose schedule was unreliable and whose cost was a significant expense. Her father set aside half of his salary for the train tickets. Whatever money remained was used to pay for food and clothes for the family. If they needed something that they couldn’t afford one month, so be it; the mikvah money was non-negotiable.
Once she arrived at the secret location, far from the prying eyes of the Soviet government, her mother had to clean the mikvah. Next door was a construction site, and the workers would often throw debris, including nails, glass, and bricks across the yard and into what was, unbeknownst to them, a mikvah. Her mother would painstakingly remove the hazardous materials, so that she could safely immerse. “There was such mesiras nefesh in her blood,” remarks Mrs. Kanelsky. “It is only fitting that our state-of-the-art mikvah is partly named after her.”
The very first gala wedding in 1984 cost each participating couple a $50 registration fee. Additionally, each groom had to pay $35 for the ring since halacha mandates that it must be purchased with the man’s money. Bris Avrohom provided everything else. Each bride received a gown, a veil, and a bridal bouquet. Each couple was given a table for ten guests. The Kanelskys even arranged for the newlyweds to receive an assortment of gifts, mostly Judaica such as Chumashim, leichter, and a Kiddush cup to inspire and encourage the continuation of an observant Jewish lifestyle. Each year, the wedding occupies a different venue. It has taken place in parks, baseball fields, shuls, hotels, and even spacious backyards.
With the help of a friend, Mrs. Kanelsky prepared the original 20 chuppahs. She bought red velvet material and gold trimming, and together they sewed, cut, and decorated 20 chuppahs. Those chuppahs are stored in her basement and are used each year. They are a physical manifestation of the dedication and love the rebbitzen feels toward her fellow Jews.
Still, there are many more unaffiliated Jews in the tri-state area, and it’s not always easy to locate and convince them. When I ask Rabbi Kanlesky how he finds the couples who participate in the chuppah, he says laughingly, “in the lost and found. They’re lost and we find them.”
The Kanelskys certainly did find them, and true to the mission of Bris Avrohom, they will continue to search for unaffiliated Jewish couples to bring home to yiddishkeit, one step at a time, one wedding at a time.