My First Jewish Wedding

I finally saw my first Jewish wedding. My parents went to one long ago back when we lived in New York, and had regaled me with such tales of splendor that I began wanting to experience one myself.

Yesterday night, we began the long drive from Northern Israel to what one might ordinarily call a “god-forsaken place in the middle of nowhere”, except it certainly wasn’t god-forsaken and it was sort of close to Jerusalem. We were headed to the wedding of one of Eyal’s friends. When we finally spotted the road to it after several hours driving, we began to wonder if the wedding invitation should not have stated “Bring 4x4” instead of “bring comfortable shoes”. We bumped and lurched and rumbled our way across the sandy gravel road for a couple km through sand-choked bushes and undergrowth. Finally we saw the light at the end of the road, hiding behind some more bushes, and discovered the wedding party location.

The need for comfortable shoes quickly explained itself as I found myself attempting to not trip myself on the rocky sand ground.

We traipsed up the hill, received our seating arrangement reminder tags, inserted our wedding card containing the traditional Israeli wedding gift (money) into what appeared to be a ballot box, and proceded to meet and greet the bride and groom.

I felt rather nervous, being surrounded by nearly 200 unknown, by-default-Hebrew-speaking-Israelis who mostly seemed to know each other. Eyal introduced me to his friends, and I remained shocked at how every single one of his friends seems to be a genuinely nice person.

The wedding ceremony itself was short and sweet. It was on top of a hill, facing the sunset. The bride, groom, and immediate relatives all squeezed in underneath a small white canopy with the rabbi. The rabbi wore a big, black, funky hat, a black suit and white shirt, but he didn’t have funky sideburns. The bride and groom had marched in to the tunes of U2, which I found refreshingly modern if not a little odd. After the traditional wailing priest (we seem to have those in Christian weddings too), blessings, and extremely Jewish crushing of the glass (which was wrapped safely in something so as not to stab someone), the bride got “ringed”; kissed, and Blur’s Song 2 began to play. This song, for those not familiar with the title, is that really famous one with lyrics that mostly go:

“Dumdumdumdumdumdumdumdumdumdumdumdumdumdum… WOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOO! dumdumdumdumdumdumdumdumdumdum… WOOHOOOO!

Fun. Then, we were treated to some touching, depressing speeches, and allowed to assault the bar, buffet table, and finally the dance floor. Now, I begin to suspect that the dancing, free booze, and excellent cause for celebration are the main parts of a Jewish wedding - not the ceremony itself. I raided the bar, asking for enough drinks for the bartender (who spoke excellent English) to remember my drink of choice. “Whiskey. Straight. Jameson.” I danced until my feet hurt, took my shoes off, and then danced some more. It was fun as hell, and I think after the first few good songs (once they stopped playing Justin Timberlake crap and began with Infected Mushroom, Daft Punk, and other fun tunes), everyone on the dancefloor would have danced to absolutely anything the DJ fed them.

We left relatively early at about 23.00. This was not due to excessive drinking, or being partied out. We were actually physically tired from all the dancing and had a 3-hour drive back ahead of us. I woke up today with a blister on my right big-toe, feeling really thirsty, but otherwise in good spirits. I give a Jewish Wedding 4½ stars out of 5! Go to one if you get the chance!