The best laid plans…

GILLIAN KLAWANSKY

Shortly before lockdown, Glenhazel came to life. Leigh and Micaela Weinberg (née Gruzin) took their wedding celebration to the streets. Here, the bridal party, friends, and onlookers united in joy while adhering to the parameters of social distancing.

The Weinbergs had just wed in an intimate ceremony in the courtyard of the Sunny Road Shul. Their chuppah, which included only 20 of their closest family members, was a far cry from the wedding they’d been planning to hold at the Sandton Shul on 5 April, with a 400-strong guestlist.

“We’d especially scheduled it just before Pesach so that our families could come from overseas,” says Micaela. “When all 40 overseas guests were forced to cancel because of coronavirus, we were heartbroken but determined.”

As the laws regarding gatherings became increasingly restrictive, the couple brought their wedding date forward, and dramatically downscaled their guest list. But when lockdown was announced, they decided to go ahead before it began just with immediate family.

“To not get on with our lives when we wanted to be married more than anything wasn’t an option,” says Micaela. “So we chose our marriage over the glitz and glam.” After a sleepless night agonising over the fact that their beloved friends couldn’t be at the chuppah, Micaela chatted to her bridesmaids and decided to take their celebration to the streets.

“We live-streamed the chuppah to people around the world. It was the most emotional ceremony, we were sobbing throughout. It was so intimate. Afterwards, we and our bridesmaids, dressed in their purple dresses, danced through the streets. People were in their driveways and outside their houses celebrating. It was unbelievable. Others were hooting and playing music from their cars.

“When people say you didn’t get the wedding you dreamed of, I say I got something better,” says Micaela. “In a time of such darkness [the fact that] we could bring light to the community, even if it was temporary, was humbling. We believe we were always meant to have this wedding on this date. I wouldn’t change it for a thing.”

For Nicky and Jason Winik and their families, the coronavirus lockdown has caused much turmoil. Their son, Tal, was scheduled to have his Barmitzvah at Sydenham Shul on 28 March. Now it’s unclear when the simcha will take place. “The rabbis have never faced this situation before,” says Nicky.

The family and rabbis are exploring numerous options, from doing the Barmitzvah at someone’s house, to having a later celebration where Tal sings his portion but can’t say the brachot (blessings), to waiting until 2021 when he can do both his portion and the brachot. Yet, waiting a year would be too stressful for Tal, says Nicky. “He’s at remedial school and had never done Hebrew before, so he learnt his portion phonetically. He’s done amazingly well.”

“Now, we’ve had to take things second by second,” she says. “Initially I cried a lot. But then I realised that it is what it is, and we have to accept the situation. I also needed to be strong for Tal. He keeps asking when he’s going to have a barmy, and we keep telling him no one knows.”

Last Friday night, Tal said the kiddush over WhatsApp video link so that grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins could all be together, albeit virtually. The Winiks also filmed Tal saying his portion at home, and sent it to their family, rabbis, and Tal’s Hebrew and Barmitzvah teachers.

They’re grateful for the amazing support Rabbi Yossy Goldman has provided, and they were touched when Chief Rabbi Dr Warren Goldstein sent Tal a mazeltov message. “Realise that in the eyes of Hashem, you are a Barmitzvah boy,” said Goldstein. “When you are 13, you become a fully fledged adult member of am Yisrael, the Jewish people. That’s a privilege, and it’s inspiring. It’s the beginning of your path of mitzvahs [commandments] and good deeds in this world. Truly that’s something to celebrate.”

Lucy Gordon Shalekoff also had to postpone her daughter Gabriella’s Batmitzvah celebrations. Gabriella is doing the Emunah Batmitzvah programme. The ceremony, which is just for parents, is now on track for August.

Yet around Gabriella’s birthday in April, the family had planned a big Batmitzvah colour disco which they were co-hosting with her friend. They had also scheduled a massive family challah bake and a Friday night dinner. “She’s disappointed, but we’ve told her it’s not cancelled forever, it’s postponed for now,” says Lucy. “The essence of a Batmitzvah isn’t about the party and thankfully, we’re not restricted by a time frame. She was going to have rainbow roses for her décor, so I got them at a flower market for her to enjoy during lockdown.”

Although Lucy spent more than a year planning these celebrations, she says she’s learnt to let things go. “I could let my whole world fall apart or I could say it will happen, but it’s not on Hashem’s agenda for now. It makes you consider how much time and effort you put into things unnecessarily.”

Yet there are some simchas that can never be postponed. This past Shabbat, shortly after lockdown, Rabbi Asher Deren and his wife Zeesy celebrated the bris of their newborn son, Shloimy, at their home in Cape Town. “It was the happiest bris I’ve ever been to, and yet there was a sadness, a pain that I’ve never experienced at a bris before,” says Deren.

The Derens involved local and international family and friends as well as their community through online meeting platform Zoom. Before Shabbat, they held a virtual shalom zachor (a traditional meal of chickpeas and beer on the first Friday night after a baby boy is born), and afterwards, they went back online for a l’chaim (celebration). The children recited prayers and sang traditional melodies, and both sets of grandparents gave the baby beautiful blessings.

Mohel Rabbi Matthew Liebenberg got special permission to spend Shabbat with the Derens and conduct the bris.

“It was a very intimate family service,” says Rabbi Deren. “There was something raw about it, and there was a lot missing. But it was also very unique and powerful, just a father, a mother, and a mohel and baby in the room where the bris took place. It felt almost like the original mitzvah [commandment] – not to discount the many beautiful layers of celebration we’ve added over the generations.”