If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
For years my husband and I told ourselves some version of that, over and over. We were living in a beautiful home, in a wonderful vibrant Jewish community. We had our routines.
As my husband and I experimented with becoming more religiously observant over a period of years, there were enough resources nearby for us to manage. Buying kosher food wasn’t hard. Although the drive to our kids’ Orthodox schools was long, it wasn’t impossible. There was even a small Orthodox synagogue nearby which we joined.
Yet as our kids grew older, living in an area where we were one of the very few religious families began to feel limiting. Our kids had few friends to play with on Shabbat. Most of their school friends were miles away and our neighbors’ kids were too busy with sports leagues and outings on Saturday afternoons to come over and play. I longed to attend the Jewish classes that some of my friends living in more Orthodox areas told me about, but they were too far away to be convenient.
I found myself thinking of the advice of the Jewish sage Rabbi Hillel: Do not separate yourself from the community (Pirkei Avot 2:5). By living so far away from the center of vibrant religious life, were we cutting ourselves off?
In those years when we contemplated moving, my husband and I became adept at rationalizing away our problems. Maybe it would be too expensive to move. Maybe we’d miss our upscale neighborhood. Neither of us had much appetite for the wrenching effort it would take to move.
Our spacious suburban home was much bigger than anything we’d be able to afford in the more urban, religiously observant neighborhoods.
The biggest obstacle holding us back was our house. Our spacious suburban home was much bigger than anything we’d be able to afford in the more urban, religiously observant neighborhoods several miles away. Was my love of luxury holding us back from making a decision to change?
I remember standing in my kitchen during the last days of Elul, the Jewish month that precedes Rosh Hashanah and is a time for introspection and change. That kitchen was the nicest room in our house. Huge and luxurious, it was twice as big as the kitchens of my friends who lived in the more vibrant religiously-observant neighborhoods my husband and I were thinking of moving to.
“Do I really need this?” I asked myself. Gazing around the room, taking in the gleaming counters and copious cabinets, I found the courage to answer “no”. I’d be saying goodbye to luxury, goodbye to our home of 12 years, goodbye to the life we’d built for ourselves. I didn’t know exactly what was in store for us, but I was willing to take the leap and change and move to a place where we thought we’d be better able to grow.
It took us the better part of a year to move. One year on, I am writing this sitting in my new but small and un-luxurious kitchen. Instead of a beautiful spacious yard outside, my view is of a chain-link fence. But our kids are close to their friends from school, there are synagogues and opportunities to take Jewish classes nearby, and we’ve found ourselves in the more dynamic Jewish environment we long craved.
I think we knew we’d made the right decision a few weeks after moving. We’d been inundated with invitations for Shabbat meals; we’d met people and our kids were busy with their new social lives. One Shabbat afternoon, my husband and I took a walk. Every few minutes we were interrupted by a greeting from a new neighbor. One woman invited me to a class she was organizing. Other neighbors introduced themselves. Some people we’d known only casually for years from our kids’ school stopped and chatted and warmly suggested we get together on an upcoming Shabbat. At long last, here was the flourishing Jewish environment we’d longed for.
When my husband and I finally turned towards home, he smiled. “I think we made the right choice,” he said. “Maybe we should have done it sooner.”
Throughout the year that we deliberated whether or not we should move, Adele’s hit song “Hello” filled the airways. I identified with that song, wishing I could ask a version of myself on the other side whether trading our lovely house for a bigger Jewish community would be worth it.
Well, I’ve finally gone through to the other side of that decision and I’ve discovered that changing our lives was easier than we'd feared. I'm glad we finally had the courage to leave behind our doubts and fears, to stop hesitating and finally listen to our hearts.
(8) Anonymous, August 21, 2020 12:38 AM
LOT
Lot selected the allegedly more favorable location and then left the countryside for the urban life but oh! When it came down to it the men of the city reminded Lot that he was the immigrant. If you can leave for our homeland. And don't look back.
(7) Mark Berkman, October 7, 2016 1:50 AM
We can relate to your move as we prepare for our next big transitional move
We can relate, having moved from the safe, but small community in Flint, Michigan to the large and vibrant community of Oak Park (Detroit). We had the same fears before and the same positive experiences after the move. It helps to refocus upon what is really important in our lives. Now, we are preparing for the transition from a house in the U.S. to an apartment in Israel, to half the living space. But as you know, the physical stuff is just that, stuff. The relationships with people and the opportunities for spiritual growth is the true vehicle to self-fulfillment.
(6) Anonymous, September 25, 2016 6:12 AM
Why not already move to Israel?
While nice, moving to another more religious neighborhood inside the US is not the fulfillment of the mitzvah of settling the Land of Israel. It takes a leap of faith to make the real move but God's promise to those that do is infinite.
Sharon, September 28, 2016 7:00 AM
My sentiments exactly!
Of course the sacrifice is likely to be even greater, but commensurately so is the reward!
(5) Diane, September 22, 2016 12:08 AM
Great that you had the financial resources to move
We don't have the financial resources. We don't have the luxury home that would buy an expensive home you describe. We are retirees, no children at home, & on a fixed income. I would love to be able to walk to shul. I depend on Aish, Chabad, and Jewish Workshops on the internet for my classes. Yes, as Baalei Teshuvah, I wish I had some frum neighbors. Actually, I have never had Jewish neighbors except the 9 years I lived in Israel.
Today, I learned to make sweet round challah with the wife of our Chabad rabbi. They are shlichim to help bring Torah Observant Judaism to those of us stuck where we cannot move. B"H they are here in our town in Maine and other places where we Jews find ourselves.
Not everyone can afford to move. Wishing doesn pay for a house.
(4) Nancy, September 21, 2016 11:04 AM
Doing what was best for yourself and your family
IMO you made a very smart decision.
(3) Anonymous, September 20, 2016 12:58 AM
mistake
many baalei tshuva with children move to ultra orthodox communities and they don't fit in and their kids leave Judaism. this occurs both in israel and the u.s.
Avi, September 20, 2016 7:46 PM
Doesn't sound like a mistake!
She doesn't say first of all they moved somewhere 'ultra orthodox', just somewhere with more frum people. She also says it's closer to her kids' schools so presumably this community is aligned with their beliefs. Telling someone their courageous move to benefit their kids will make their kids leave Torah is ridiculous. Sounds like if anything, it has greatly enhanced their lives.
(2) Jewish Mom, September 19, 2016 3:22 PM
So brave of you!
Good for you!! There can be a great distance between knowing something intellectually and reconciling it in your heart (as we say in the Aleynu prayer - "Veyadaya hayom vehasheivosa el levavecha). It's normal that it took a whole to go through that process, but you did it and then took the necessary action. May we all be go courageous as we take stock this Elul to actually plan change and follow through with actions.
Have a k'siva vachasima tova!
(1) Deborah, September 19, 2016 1:36 PM
Heartwarming
Heartwarming and encouraging.