The Bubble.

(For their discretion, real names have been replaced).

 

Beneath his black hat and religious beard, the smile of old gleaned. It reminded me that despite a largely different appearance, my high school partner in crime still existed, in a form.

He stood alongside father and brother, minutes from walking down the aisle at his wedding – a scene that froze me in reflection.

 

Andrew and I took every class together for four years. Both key athletes on school teams; him basketball, me hockey. We enjoyed similar things and were very close. Upon graduation, we both elected to take gap years abroad in Israel. This is a common tradition held by those in the modern orthodox communities. Programs varied based on religious considerations; some programs were more secular and others completely religious and engross in Torah studies.

 

This is where our divergence began.

 

I attended a program coupling Jewish studies with secular studies at the degreed University of Bar Ilan near Tel Aviv, Israel’s most secular city. I enjoyed the company of many other modern orthodox children from New York, Los Angeles, and Miami. On the other end of the spectrum, you had Yeshivas that specialize in Torah learning all day, every day. This is what Andrew attended. But just to be clear, it wasn’t like I didn’t learn Torah and practice Judaism at my program. It was just a lighter dose.

 

So, what happens during this year abroad? Most kids learn to navigate a foreign country and grow an appreciation for Judaism and the land of our people in some form or another.

 

However, there are a select batch of kids who flip is Israel during their gap year. Flipping is a term used by us to describe a kid who went in mostly secular and exited super religious. Learning Torah nonstop under the influence of Rabbis, they drop past hobbies and creating a new identify with only a shade of their past self deep inside. Sometimes, upon returning to America after the year, kids gradually return to their old self and undo the work of the Yeshivas. Other times, the flip is permanent.

 

Andrew never flipped at Yeshiva, but he definitely strengthened his connections to the religion. He was still slated to attend the University of Maryland, a majorly secular college – typically a mark that a student has remained the same. However, after a year Andrew decided to transfer to Yeshiva University.

 

Yeshiva University is a modern orthodox college that is a completely legitimate degreed university. Like high school though, it was dual curriculum and is comprised of only Jews, predominantly of modern orthodoxy. It is in the Washington Heights of New York, perfectly secluded in the center of the tristate area to give students access to all the Jewish resources.

I heard of Andrews switch only through the grapevine. We hadn’t spoken in a few years at this point. Besides a hum of interest, I didn’t think much of the transfer. I was doing my own thing on the island of Ann Arbor outside the bubble.

 

The magnitude of his personal growth and strengthening religiosity only hit me when he added me to a text chain with a weekly D’var Torah, or “words of Torah” on Friday ahead of the Sabbath. The messages continued for a while, despite my lack of response. I always felt bad, but knowing I was just part of a larger thread made me feel fine.

 

Fast-forward many months to junior year of college. I was walking back from class in the cold harsh weather when I received a heartwarming call from Andrew. It jogs my memory what prompted our reconnection. The call lasted a while, catching up on three-plus years of life and professional aspirations. Like our 3am study sessions for Precalculus, we laughed and goofed unaware of the time. The flow of conversation was natural except two moments of shock:

 

First, he told me about a serious girlfriend. This came as a shock because typically if a religious person has a serious girlfriend, it means marriage real soon. Negiah is likely the reason – as Jewish law forbids physical contact with the opposite sex (non-family) before marriage. Probably attributes to why the religious often marry younger… to break free from these shackles. It is a hard rule to follow, so only the most religious follow diligently, but I see the beauty in only touching your wife and immediate family.

 

The other bit of news that shocked me was that Andrew recently accepted a position to teach Gemera at the modern orthodox school of Frisch in Paramus, NJ. This was more shocking to me, honestly, as it solidified his professional career as a prospective Rabbi and cemented himself deep within the bubble for life.

 

But all things considered he seemed very happy, so I was happy for him despite never being able to picture myself in his shoes. I hung up the phone and return to my secular life at school. The conversation faded from my memory slowly over the weeks and months that followed without further contact.

That is why when the wedding invitation reached my inbox just a few months later, I was so shocked. I was shocked it was happening, but even more shocked to be invited after four years of barely any communication.

 

I snapped back to realty.

 

The guys serenaded Andrew in the Chatan Tish, “a period of loud and atmospheric boy-time before the ceremony starts” with drinks, singing, and dancing. Moshe, Yoni, Jonah and many other high school pals that I fell out of touch with linked arms with me as we sung the loudest and danced the hardest.

 

We flailed arms and legs with Andrew orchestrating on a chair. He was always the life of the party and held the energy of the room; that clearly didn’t change.

 

I’ll never forget when his eyes met mine from across the room amid the happy chaos. He threw his arms up the air in grace, like it meant the world I could be there for him. He kicked into another gear and hyped up his posey, all there to celebrate him.

 

The dancing dispersed to let Andrew catch his breath. I reconnected with over twenty childhood friends from school, camp, Yeshiva League hockey and other Bubble institution. It struck me how far I’ve strayed, but I wasn’t upset about our differences.

 

During the break, I was able to speak to Andrew alone before the Chuppa ceremony. Like the good old days, we did not miss a beat – although deep down I sadly knew this would likely be the last time I’d ever speak to my friend. I soaked in every moment.

 

It was just a short while later, Andrew stood underneath the Chuppa. The voice of an angel blared ‘Im eshkachech Yerushalayim’ for the rows of overflowing people. It was the customary song before the glass was broken to remind us Jews to never forget Jerusalem:

 

“If I forget you, Yerushalayim, let my right hand forget how to work. Let my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you, if I do not set Yerushalayim above my chiefest joy.”

 

For some reason I always get choked by the emotions of the song and the moment. I am always filled with such joy for the friend or family standing under the Chuppa, successfully finding his loved one with a sea of people there to celebrating them. The only half of me ponders who will be standing in a white dress across from me, and when. Certainly, won’t find my wife while I’m in Michigan… there is just no one who comes from a similar religious background. Will I cry when I’m up there, if I ever get up there and find the right one?

 

Andrew stomped on the glass and the place erupted, vanishing my heavy emotions till the next wedding. We raged in happiness, unrestricted by our dress suits. We danced away in the ballroom. It was not long before I slipped out and headed home.

 

It was back to Michigan the next morning for the start of senior year.

Back outside the Bubble.