Part II
Synopsis: The narrator knew only two things about Judaism -
- that she must marry within her faith, and that male
children must be circumcised. The bris of her first son led
to her participating in Torah lectures and slowly, taking on
mitzvos.
The decision to make aliya was logical but not practical.
First of all, anyone filing an application to leave Russia
was badgered by the authorities, not a pleasant affair, to
say the least. Second of all, one couldn't receive an exit
permit unless relatives from Eretz Yisroel (or any other
country) had filed a written request that s/he visit them.
Finally, a woman couldn't leave the country unless her
husband signed an official document approving her exit.
I tried to weigh my situation's pros and cons. On the one
hand, I had a large house in Russia and a good job as an
electronics engineer. However, in Russia it was impossible
for me to live a full Jewish life or raise my children as
Jews. Moreover, since my husband's commitment to Torah was
far weaker than mine, I was certain that he wouldn't support
my move to Eretz Yisroel or sign a document approving it.
I considered all these points and my hopes of raising my
children as observant Jews tipped the scales.
Then and there I resolved to leave Russia at all costs. Even
though I was still unfamiliar with many Jewish concepts, I
sensed that the Divine promise, "One who strives to purify
himself is aided from Above," was materializing through
me.
Red Tape
My husband was averse to my plans. He was very attached to
his family and parents, and also had difficulty learning
Hebrew. Besides, he had heard many reports about the
financial and employment problems of new immigrants to
Israel. I begged him to change his mind, but my pleas fell on
deaf ears. At last, I decided to give up and not argue the
issue with him.
One time, we happened to pass a lawyer's office and I
proposed, "Let's go inside."
Both of us knew what I was driving at, but he feigned
naivete.
"Why?" he asked.
"I might want to visit Israel one day. So let's get the red
tape over with now."
"Okay," he replied. So we went in and he signed. When we came
home, however, he wondered aloud why he had signed a
statement he opposed. I saw his signing as an act of Divine
Providence. The first barrier had fallen. At last, I had an
official letter of approval, signed by my husband, stating
that I could leave the Soviet Union whenever I pleased.
But another hurdle still had to be overcome. How could I
receive an exit visa when I had no relatives in Eretz Yisroel
who could invite me to visit them? Without such an
invitation, one cannot leave the country even on a pleasure
trip!
Once again, I had special Heavenly assistance in the form of
a friend who had made aliya a year before and had even
written to me from Eretz Yisroel. I hadn't answered her then
and wondered whether she still remembered me...
I called her and when her husband lifted the receiver, I
began to stammer. He remembered me and asked what I needed. I
told him that I wanted to visit his family in Eretz Yisroel.
He understood my intention and asked how many members of my
family would be joining me. "Two," I replied.
Because he had made aliya so recently, the Russian consulate
had tapped his phone. He knew that and as a result, asked me
brief and pointed questions. After that call, I once more
felt that Heaven was guiding me.
Although such invitations usually take a few months to
arrive, I received his letter within a month. Another miracle
had occurred, and another piece of red tape had been
sliced.
Now that I had the invitation, I thought it would take me
only a few days to receive the coveted permit. But reality
was quite different. Every day, hundreds of people who wanted
visas filed in front of the emigration offices. Russian law
at that time stipulated that applicants had to come to the
office every day in order to determine if their turn had
arrived. They also had to sign a daily attendance sheet and
whoever missed a day, lost his turn and had to begin the
procedure anew.
I certainly couldn't do that since I had to punch in at work
every morning and to send my children to school. Another dead
end!
Another Miracle!
Suddenly, my eye caught a small notice which said that due to
the pressure, an additional branch of the office had opened.
Amazingly, that office was right near my house, while the
main office was an hour's ride away. I left quickly, hoping
that the waiting line at the branch wouldn't be too long. To
my utter surprise, I was the first and last Russian citizen
to file an application at that new office! A few days after
my arrival, it closed, perhaps due to a lack of
applicants.
Although I had obtained the exit visa, I still required a
great deal more providential good fortune in order to be able
to leave Russia.
My next problem was securing dollars. A citizen leaving the
country was permitted to take only $200 with him -- hardly
enough to start life anew anywhere else. However, if he
obtained money on the black market, he was liable, if caught,
to be accused of espionage. I decided not to run the risk of
being caught and to suffice with the minimal amount.
In other countries, going to the bank and withdrawing a sum
permitted by law is a routine procedure. But in bureaucratic
Soviet Union, every procedure was very complicated. To begin
with, one couldn't withdraw the money unless he had plane
tickets. But since it was forbidden to hold even permitted
foreign currency for more than two days, one needed a miracle
in order to coordinate the dates of the receipt of the money
and the date of his proposed exit from the country. This was
especially difficult because one generally had to wait three
months for his turn to receive the dollars, but could never
guess when that day would arrive!
Miracle in a Coffee Cup
One day, a woman I had met at the emigration office called me
and said she had postponed her plans to make aliya. "I have a
turn for two more days," she said, "and will give it to you.
Hurry up and buy tickets." But there was a snag. Her name was
stamped on the slip authorizing her to withdraw the $200,
while my name appeared on the tickets and on my exit visa,
which I also had to show the bank clerk. If I were caught
`stealing a turn,' I would be punished very severely.
I nearly gave up. But then I reasoned that if Hashem had
helped me so miraculously until then, He would continue to do
so. Closing my eyes, I prayed, "May a miracle occur. May the
teller not notice the discrepancy."
With my tickets and application for the $200 in hand, I
apprehensively approached the teller. Suddenly, he knocked
over the cup of coffee on his desk. Terrified that his
foreman might shout at him, he became all flustered and
without even examining my affidavits, he gave me the
money.
Well, there I was, all ready to go. I quickly packed my
belongings, said good-bye to my parents, and headed to the
airport where I boarded a plane to Eretz Yisroel with my two
sons.
During my first few months in Eretz Yisorel, I stayed at an
absorption center near Yerusholayim. Then I got a job and
enrolled my children in a cheder.
Shortly afterwards, I received a divorce from my husband,
against whom I bear no grudges. He is a fine person, yet we
were simply unsuitable for each other. Eventually, I married
a talmid chochom and am grateful to Hashem for having
brought me this far.
*
Zeidy, you kindled a spark within me. In your merit, my
children -- all seven of them -- are following in your
footsteps.
