meshiksa hasidic roots: The Ohel

Each day of this week, i will do something Hasidic.
Monday was the Farbrengen, yesterday i had a drink with a Hasidic man, and today was scheduled for the ohel.
I will write a post later about the meeting with the Hasidic man. :-)

I was looking forward to traveling in the Ohel bus. I like this kind of transportation.
Departure at 10:30 at the corner of 770 and Kingston Ave. I was on time, the bus was already there, but let's take it easy.
30°C on the pavement, no air conditioned but the moleskine (i love this French word that sounds like a Russian word, meaning the imitation leather) seats pleased my hands. The color was a sort of blue bowling, a color that i like a lot.

June 2014, ©emmarubinstein

I asked a Hasidic woman when i arrived if women were allowed in the bus: "I hope so!"

The driver arrived, and i didn't expect some courtesy from the Lubaba men to let the women jump in the bus first. Oh Messieurs! :-)

The good news is that the women can sit wherever they want in the bus, avoiding to sit besides a man on the same moleskine seat.

At this occasion, i met a young woman, from Israel, living in London since 3 years where she studies theater.
I didn't even mention my blood percentage, we talked about our life. We finally traded our emails. She wants to come in Paris. I will be her guide. She want to introduce me to people in Israel…

The bus was full, and my mind was lost in a trip where i was in Israel, in a U.N. bus.
Maybe because i have my Israeli friends from my childhood who are in Paris this week for the bat mitzvah of their grand-daughter. I am jealous not to be there for this occasion. Unfortunately, i don't have the gift of ubiquity.

June 2014, ©emmarubinstein

I was all the time in observation of my neighbors. An old man was reading something to a young man, explaining him things. A rabbi and a student? Ver veys?
Nobody was talking loud, some were praying…

I have seen the signals of our arrival: the men stood up, slipping on their black coat, and their black hat.

We arrived around 11:20, and i wanted to spend a long time in the cemetery but you can't wander as you want. The bus for the return was supposed to be there at noon.
I had a long letter to write to the Rebbe. I finally made it short, because i was stressed by the clock.

Do you want to know what i wrote?
Er… I asked things for friends, my mother, and myself.
The last request is too personal, sorry. :-)
I asked him for a good health for the son of my Russian Jewish mother. He had a heart transplant a few years ago. He was in hospital last week. He is in his early 20s. He was better when i visited her last Sunday for a good Russian Jewish hug.
I too asked the Rebbe for helping two bad Hasidic that i knew to become good persons. Let me dream that he can change them.
I walked to the ohel, lighted a candle, stayed against the wall watching men telling psalms, then i closed my eyes and tried to feel their devotion. The emotion came for no apparent reason. I read my letter, and tore it up.
I walked in the limit zones of the cemetery, and went back to the house. There were more and more people. The anniversary of the death of the Rebbe was yesterday.

June 2014, ©emmarubinstein

The ohel and the carpet of torn letters are beautiful. I like the entry where you light the candles.
The photos are not allowed, and i steal their intimacy enough, so i have the best pictures in my mind.
What is great is that you can see different Jews there, coming from strict sects, Lubaba and the secular Jewish world. And also gentiles. We are all gathering and forget who we are.
It's peaceful, we were all there to read psalms and letters.
Everyone has his/her place, that was a will of this Rebbe.

There was a TV where you can see a sort of 'best of' of the Rebbe. There is the room for the ladies, very small, and the room/shul for men.
It's a studious ambiance.

The writers, June 2014, ©emmarubinstein

June 2014, ©emmarubinstein

No leather shoes, June 2014, ©emmarubinstein

The bus came back, and i was besides the Israeli woman once again.
She came last year.
She told me that she felt that she has to come back.
I told her that i will come back soon too, to enjoy it more. I was too stressed.
I will write the letter in advance not to forget all the things i have to tell him.

You can do it on Internet if you can't come. I don't actually like the idea that anyone can read your letter.

There were TVs in the bus, and a movie about the Rebbe was on TV.
I could not read the subtitles, and i let the bus swing me. The heat and the shalom made me sleep, but i resisted.

Back to 770, i met mister Balloon in Chocolatte. I said hello. He didn't remember me, he was at the wedding of my Hasidic friend. He is always around and meets up tons of people all the time.
Next time, i will try to have a conversation with him. He seems quirky and i like that.

meshiksa hasidic roots

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

The Ohel

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