Back in the 60’s, a whole bunch of people (particularly young people involved with the counterculture hippie world) got turned on to Judaism by a Rabbi named Shlomo Carlebach. He was known as the “The Singing Rabbi” because he wrote thousands of Jewish songs and gave concerts for people all over the world. Reb Shlomo’s message was that every Jew was beautiful and holy, and that each one, through doing even one mitzvah (commandment), had the power to change the world. His teachings would focus on the “deep” aspects of the torah and holidays, the spiritual behind the technical; his stories would focus on the holiness of even the simplest Jew. Reb Shlomo’s music and talent for storytelling had a way of reaching into people’s hearts and turning something on, like a switch; even today, his recorded stuff has a similar effect. He wrote music and was mekarev (brought people to Judaism) thousands of Jews worldwide for over 40 years, until his death in 1994. He inspired the creation of several “Carlebach Minyanim” (prayer groups that sing many of his songs during their service), as well as many contemporary Jewish Rock and Roll bands (including the Moshav Band, our favorite). Some of his followers also established a small Moshav in Israel called Mevo Modi’in, a simple place where Carlebach Jews live together, celebrate Reb Shlomo’s torah and music and host guests each week from all over the world.

Five years ago, on my last visit to Israel, my friend Itiya took me with her for a Shabbos at Moshav Modi’in. I knew absolutely nothing about the place (and at that point, not much about Reb Shlomo, except that my father had met him a couple of times) but was in the mood to try something different. We stayed with the Rabbi and Rebbetzin of the Moshav, Rabbi Avraham Aryeh and Rachel Trugman, whose house was filled with people, students and expats and drifters of all shades, some of them religious, some of them far from it, many of whom slept on mattresses that covered the living room floor. I was immediately struck by how warm the Trugmans were, much more so than any other Rabbi and Rebbetzin I had ever met.Then we went to shul for Kabbalat Shabbat (Friday Night Services). I couldn’t stop staring at all the Moshav’s residents, most of whose style is very hippie-ish: lots of flowing skirts, colorful scarves, and then men wear knitted kippot (head coverings), and some wear white cotton tunics. It was like a world of people exactly like me, only religious. Where had they come from? Then services began, and within minutes, the chairs were pushed back and everyone was dancing. I was completely in awe. Remember, I had grown up in a conservative synagogue, where the service proceedings were as dry as toast and basically consisted of: “Stand up, sit down, say this prayer, say that prayer, let’s go eat”. There was no joy there, at least not in the way I was seeing now. If there were orthodox people who were Jewish like this, I wanted to be like them. By the time I left them on Sunday morning, I had a dream of living in a place like this, where all Jews were welcome and were joyfully Jewish together. I promised myself that the next time I was in Israel, I would be back to visit.

Yesterday, I fulfilled my promise to myself. There was a huge music and art festival at Moshav Modi’in in honor of Sukkot, so Shuie and I headed over with Bug. The minute we got to the Moshav, everything came back: everything was exactly as I remembered it, including that sense of “home” I got the last time I was there. The music had already started and booths were set up with the most amazing art, jewelery, handcrafts, health food, books, Judaica, essential oils, photography. I, of course, wanted to buy everything. Shuie and I settled for a painting by a Breslover Chassid (an ultra-orthodox Jew who follows Rabbi Nachman of Breslov) in a streimel (a circular hat made of fur) who, when he wasn’t showing us his work, had his nose buried in a holy book. His art was unbelievable, oil paintings that looked like Van Goghs only with Jewish themes, and cut paper and oil that was absolutely mindblowing. The painting we bought is cut paper and oil, depicting the silhouette of a man dancing with joy. It says, “Mitzvah Gedolah Lihiyot B’Simcha Tamid” (It is a mitzvah to always be happy). Shuie and I both fell in love with it, and with the artist himself, who said, “I am connected to all of my paintings. Every one of them has a little piece of my neshama (soul)”. We walked away marveling at the beauty of our purchase and of the person who made them.

After we wandered around a bit more, I finally ran into Rabbi Trugman. I introduced myself to him and told him, “When you met me I wasn’t frum (religious), coming here turned my whole life around”. He gave me the sweetest smile, like I had given him the best compliment in the world. As I was introducing Shuie and Yonah, I was suddenly struck by how much of a change my life has undergone since my last time at the Moshav: I let go of over 100 pounds in Overeaters Anonymous, became orthodox, got married, had a son. It’s amazing how much one life can change in such a short amount of time. On a good day, I can look back and be overcome by the sequence of miracles that brought me where I am now.

I also got a chance to chat with Rabbi Sholom Brodt (who is actually my father-in-law’s cousin) and Rabbi Raz Hartman, both of whom run programs at the Shlomo Yeshiva in Nachlaot. I’ve been toying with the idea of going there and after talking to them I am very excited about checking it out next week. One of the things I have to remind myself is that I’m not locked in anywhere; this isn’t like college where I have to be at one place. I can shop around, check out different places. I may decide to mix and match, do one place in the morning, one in the afternoon. Having many options isn’t such a bad thing. Let’s just hope I find my groove soon.

After we roamed around for a while, we settled on the grass to watch the different bands play (all of whom were amazing), including Ben Zion Solomon and all of his sons (three of those sons are in the Moshav Band) — For the record, I get the biggest kick out of Jewish music that you can actually rock out to; it kind of validates for me that being religious can still be cool. Anyway, we ended up running into friends from our schools and people we know from around the city. It made me really happy to realize that we’ve only been here for a month and we already have friends. Yonah had a blast crawling around on the grass and dancing to the music. By the time the sun was setting, we realized he had not taken a nap since 10:00 in the morning and he was still raring to go.

Yonah’s bedtime was approaching so we headed out of the Moshav and back to the main road. We quickly realized that neither of us knew how to get back to Jerusalem, since the bus we came on did not have the same return route. In America, this would have been major cause for a freak-out. Here in Israel, for some reason, I knew we would find a ride. I took a moment, asked Gd for help, told myself not to get anxious, and headed back into the parking lot. After a few misses, we flagged down a 30-something guy named Yaneev Tsaidi who lives in the German Colony and just happened to have three empty seats in his car. Hooray! While Shuie and Yaneev played Jewish geography and talked about music, I tried to distract a very squirmy Yonah and for a few calm minutes managed to admire the massive full moon hanging over the city. Yaneev dropped us off right outside the Tachanat HaMercazit (The central bus station), and within 20 minutes, we were home. My first outing as a hitchhiker was an official success.

It was an amazing day and also an exhausting one. We were both tapped out by 9:00. Still, I came home invigorated, inspired, excited and happy. This is what I was shooting for when I came back to Israel, to find a community of people like this and to learn with and from them. I’d like to think that this is what Reb Shlomo was hoping to awaken in everyone he met. Let’s hope it’s just the beginning for me.