We landed in Ambon City as the rain was coming down in sheets. Heavy rain was a recurring theme for us during our four day visit. I do think I saw the sun once or twice, but it was quite fleeting. A number of low-lying areas were experiencing flooding. We thought of the weaver women we’d visited 2 ½ years earlier in their very humble hut by a river. We wondered how they were faring. After a very early start that morning, we welcomed a few hours’ rest in the lovely Orchid Hotel in the centre of the city. But at 5:00 that afternoon, it was time to go to work: over the next four hours, we interviewed nine adults and one teen to assess their readiness to become Jewish in a process called a beit din or religious court. Over the course of the ten different batei din (the plural form), one theme kept recurring: times are tough in Ambon. We met several lovely couples who already have several children, but whose financial situation is precarious enough that they’re still living with their parents and other extended family. The parents are still fervently Christian (the predominant religion on the Maluku Islands), and so at the very least are grudgingly tolerant of their children’s adopted faith. In some cases, they are downright hostile, and so Judaism can only be practiced safely at the community synagogue. A number of the men have come upon a solution to all of their problems: they are hoping to strike gold. Earlier this year, they took a two-day ferry ride to a neighbouring island, then a fourteen-hour bus ride. Finally a 3 hour hike through steep terrain to the middle of a mosquito-ridden jungle on their hunt for gold. Their lives there are unimaginably harsh: they have to carry in as many supplies as they can for their 4-5 month stay, including tents, food, cooking fuel, and mining tools. Rain falls nearly daily, and the humid heat can be intense. At times, they have run out of food and needed to hike quite a distance to purchase food at exorbitant prices. They have made a valiant attempt to lead Jewish lives in these harsh conditions, including resting on Shabbat. But that doesn’t change the fact that a huge distance lies between them and their Jewish community. In their first attempt, the men were moderately successful in locating a good supply of gold. But most of them also contracted malaria and are now dealing with ongoing health issues. The morning that we left Ambon, one of the men joined the community in meeting us at the airport for a send-off. Suddenly he became quite ill with intense chills and trembling. He is the father of a new baby, and I’m relieved that he will not be returning to the jungle. However, I worry deeply for the others, both that they’ll fail in their quest and that they’ll succeed and become a target for violence. But, as Rabbi David pointed out, there’s an illness that is even more severe than malaria, and that’s gold fever. I spoke with one of the men, who shared with me his dreams of starting his own business rather than working for others. He quit a longtime job at a local restaurant in the hopes of striking it rich. I hope and pray that they’ll succeed, but even more so, I hope they’ll stay safe. It’s been a few years since I undertook such a long day of batei din. It was completely exhausting, but also joyful and hopeful. With these new additions, the Ambon community has now doubled in size and has become far more viable. The new families bring with them seven children to bring hope for the Jewish future. But, of course, our work was not yet done: it was necessary to immerse these Jews-by-choice in a natural body of water in front of witnesses to finalise their conversions. This was far more challenging that I would have imagined. On the day of the mikveh (ritual immersion), we arrived at the beach to gale-force winds and truly terrifying waves. Shelley asked about the sign clearly posted at the beach. I translated what I could, including the words “FORBIDDEN” and “WAVES.” Shelley, a former lifeguard, announced that she would never allow anyone to swim in these waters. Moshe Lemuel, the leader of the community, agreed that we would move to a river not too far away. A far better choice! We traipsed down a muddy path, and I thought of the new strain of foot-and-mouth disease that’s been identified in Indonesia. I anticipate that the biosecurity agents at the Adelaide Airport will tackle me when I return. I’m hoping they don’t burn my shoes. It’s cold there, and having shoes is a good thing! The river was flowing relatively swiftly, but as Shelley pointed out, no danger of undertows or rips tides. Rabbis David and Ben and Moshe took the men through the process first. It was stirring to hear each man in turn speaking the required blessings that sealed their conversions. Then it was time for the women. Shelley, Ben’s wife Rachel and I took charge. Sadly, one couple had not come due to illness, although they’d sent their daughter. We had one woman and three girls to look after. And then, a surprise: the woman and girls hadn’t realised that they needed to immerse completely naked! The ever resourceful Shelley located a sarong, and after a moment’s hesitation, I waded into the water in my sneakers and socks to hold up the sarong along with Rachel to assure their privacy. First the woman who had chosen the Jewish name Ruth Hannah immersed; she had learned the main blessings by heart just from the time I had taught it to all of the conversion candidates. Then it was the turn of her six-year-old daughter, and this is when the giggles started. As she removed each piece of clothing, she giggled more and more, and she continued laughing as the other two girls immersed as well. Of course, trying to get wet clothes on is pretty hilarious. Once she was dressed again, she proceeded to splash around the water with her still naked younger brother until her mother told her it was time to head home. Our wet but happy new Jews climbed on their scooters and made their way home. In the evening, I experienced another first in my endless succession of firsts in Indonesia: David and I celebrated the weddings of three couples in a single night! Two of the couples had already been Jewish for some time and were well known to us: the community leader Moshe and his wife Vera have been married for twenty years and have both been Jewish since 2014. They have poured their heart, soul, and finances into creating a Jewish community: the synagogue meets in their home. Now, at last, they would solemnize their marriage with a Jewish ceremony. Shmuel David and his wife Shira Avigail converted when we were in Ambon 2 ½ years ago. They are community leaders in their own way: Shmuel David has the voice of an angel, and I loved listening to him singing harmony in our Shabbat services. Shira Avigail is Vera’s right hand in making sure we and the community members are well fed and looked after. Both have a gentle energy, and I’m enormously fond of both of them. The third wedding was for Ruth Hannah and her husband Eitan Nachman, another gentle couple whose partnership in raising their two children was lovely to see. Neither David nor I had every celebrated more than one wedding at a time, so it took more than bit of logistical planning to figure out how to conduct all three ceremonies efficiently but correctly. The first step was signing the ketubah, the marriage contract. We were just about to start when the three women stopped us from starting; they had to change into their wedding clothes! They emerged five minutes later wearing simple but lovely white dresses and SHOES! All three grooms were wearing shoes too, presumably so they could safely step on a glass at the conclusion of the ceremonies. This was one of the very few times that I’d seen people wearing shoes indoors. Now with the couples properly dressed up, we could begin. The couples were called up one by one to make sure that both groom and bride consented to the conditions written in the ketubah. David then walked each couple through a short ritual of making sure that the grooms were marrying the right brides. We then launched into the first wedding ceremony, for Moshe and Vera. Moshe stood under the beautifully constructed chuppah, wedding canopy, as Ben’s wife Rachel walked Vera down the aisle. For all three weddings, David and I split the service in half so that we had equal representation before the community. All three brides carried lovely bouquets of felt flowers. Shira Avigail and Shmuel David’s daughter Rosa walked her mother down the aisle, but Ruth Hannah again chose Rachel, the mother of the community. As each groom smashed the glass, the community yelled “mazel tov!” and then called for a kiss. We managed to speed through all three weddings in about 90 minutes, and then it was time to enjoy a lovely community dinner. There are almost as many different interpretations of the tradition of breaking a glass a wedding as there are rabbis. One popular understanding is that the broken glass represents the brokenness that must come into the life of every married couple. These three couples have already seen their share of brokenness. Moshe and Vera endured years of abuse from the pastor and members of a neighbouring church. Eventually Moshe sued them for human rights abuses and won the right to live and worship safely. He has promised to right a book about the many experiences he’s endured for living as a Jew...in English! Shmuel David and Eitan Nachman have already experienced lonely months in the jungle far from their families. They are preparing to return next month in the hopes of new lives for themselves and those they love. I could see that love is enduring bond in all three couples. I wish them many long and prosperous years!
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Rabbi Shoshana KaminskyI've been the rabbi of Beit Shalom Progressive Synagogue in Adelaide since 2006. As part of the Council of Progressive Rabbis of Australia, New Zealand and Asia, I'm now on my fifth trip to Indonesia to teach, pray and celebrate with the communities here. Archives
July 2022
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