aliyah

Original Article is Published at JPost.com

Rebecca and Ken Milgrim moved to the Gaza Strip in the 1980s. Now, in 2023, they’re back in Israel, this time in Modi’in.

For Rebecca and Ken Milgram, the Gaza Strip has played an important part in their two aliyah stories. Soon after making aliyah in 1982, the Milgrams lived for four years in Moshav Katif. And now, two months after their return to Israel for good in August 2023, they are spending time babysitting grandchildren, as both a son and a son-in-law have been deployed by the IDF to the Gaza border.

The London-born Rebecca and Philadelphia-born Ken met on their 1979-80 post-high school Bnei Akiva hachsharah (training) program in Israel. “We were young and Zionistic,” reports Rebecca, who spent her year on Kibbutz Sde Eliyahu, while Ken was at Yavneh. The program included a three-month period in Jerusalem for all participants. “We just clicked!”

When the program ended, both returned home for college – Ken to the US, and Rebecca to England. The distance became insufferable in their year and a half apart. “There were no cellphones, and our once-a-week long-distance calls were expensive,” Ken notes. The two got engaged, joined a garin (a group of people who move to Israel together), got married in February 1982, and made aliyah one month later.

The Milgrams spent six months at an absorption center in Kiryat Yam (12 km. north of Haifa). Ken jokes, “They threw me out of ulpan after one week and sent me to work. My Hebrew wasn’t great, but I could read.” To which Rebecca quips, “Mine was better, and I was kicked out too!”

The Milgrams lived near Rebecca’s grandmother in Haifa and welcomed their first child, a daughter, Tamar (now 41). “It was great up there,” the Milgrams report, “but the goal was to live on kibbutz.”

WELCOMING REBECCA and Ken home. (credit: Courtesy Milgram family)

Ken and Rebecca spent a year and a half on Kibbutz Alumim, where Ken worked in the chicken coop, and Rebecca worked in the kitchen and in childcare. They note that the kibbutz “didn’t click” for them and for most of their garin, so they began exploring other options. They packed up their possessions, hired a truck driver, and relocated to Moshav Katif in what is now the Gaza Strip.

Ken recalls, “The Arab worker drove us in his truck and showed us his house in Gaza City. He told us to reach out if we needed anything.” Ken worked in the plant nursery, and Rebecca in the moshav office.

BOTH REPORT feeling safe on the moshav and in Gaza and recount regularly shopping in the town of Khan Yunis. “It was a very safe neighborhood to be in – for the most part. Then it got a little sketchy. In 1986, the army told us we needed to carry a gun to travel,” Ken adds.

The Milgrams observed the moshav to be in transition, from shared ownership to private. They again began considering their options. “We saw the writing on the wall,” notes Ken. “We didn’t have college degrees or any money and realized we’d have to reach out to our parents for help.”

The Milgrams relocated to the States, where they lived in Philadelphia and Sharon, Massachusetts, for an extended period of time. They had two more children (Jonathan, now 33; and Yardenna, now 30), completed college degrees at night, and worked – Ken as an accountant, and Rebecca in IT.

After 18 years in Philadelphia, the family relocated to the Boston suburb of Sharon for Rebecca’s job. Ken, who soon after found work as an accountant for such places as Camp Ramah in New England, was thrilled that their new city “checked all boxes,” including having an abundance of professional sports teams. “It was a good place for us.”

The Milgrams never lost sight of their dream and plan of returning to Israel. “It was always our end goal.” They note that it “got easier” as family members began moving to Israel. Their son studied on ulpan and became a lone soldier after high school; their daughter spent two years in National Service in Beit Shemesh; and their Israeli-born oldest son, who married a woman from England and spent time living there, returned to Israel in August 2022. Three months later, Ken’s mother, Arlene, made aliyah. “We realized there was nothing for us in Boston but cold weather!”

The Milgrams sold their house, packed up and shipped their possessions to Israel, and moved to Israel the day after Camp Ramah in New England let out for the summer. (Ken proudly posted photos on Facebook when their belongings finally arrived by truck at their new home in Modi’in.)

Somehow winding up living in Modi’in

THE MILGRAMS had never intended to settle in the Anglo-heavy city of Modi’in. Rebecca playfully and honestly notes, “We went for a Shabbat and hated it – it was way too Anglo!” They soon came to realize there were many wonderful things about Modi’in, including proximity to several grandchildren. The Milgrams are currently very happy residents of Modi’in, and all the grandchildren are “no more than 35 minutes away.”

They note that an important mantra that has helped them throughout the aliyah and adjustment process has been “Be all in!” They elaborate, “Don’t come with the idea that you can come for six months and see if it works. If you have one foot in, it won’t work. We sold our house and packed. That’s it. We are coming!”

They acknowledge the frustrations including Israeli bureaucracy and advise people to remember, “It is not the same as the States, it is the Israeli way – just get over it.” They also advise people to stop converting prices from shekels to dollars, as salaries are also different in Israel versus the States. “You just have to commit to it.”

The Milgrams point out that keeping American jobs (she continues to consult for her old company; he still works for Ramah—remotely during the year and in person during the summer), being close to family, and getting comfortable with Hebrew are all very helpful. But, they note, perhaps the most important thing is having a positive attitude. “Attitude is huge! You can’t allow it to get to you. Roll with the punches. There is plenty of good here.”

Forty years after their first attempt at aliyah, Ken admits, “Every so often, we go on Google Earth to see where our house was on the moshav [in Gaza]. Now it is just flat, concrete. It is a little hard. People don’t realize that Gaza City had a water park and hotels. It is not the picture people have in their heads.”

Rebecca offers, “We now live an hour and a half from the massacres.” Ken adds, “There is no place I’d rather be right now. It never once crossed our minds that we should leave.”■

The Milgrams Aliyah 1 From Philadelphia (Ken)  and Finchley, London (Rebecca) to Kiryat Yam, 1982; Aliyah 2 From Sharon, Massachusetts, to Modi’in, 2023

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Original Article Published On The Jerusalem Post

Bronstein’s daily Spanish-language videos – 443 in total to date – have quite a following, with 106,000 subscribers.

Meir Bronstein is not your typical hassid. He is also not your typical YouTuber. 

His sweet demeanor, his grasp of Judaism, literature and secular topics, his sense of humor, and his disarming smile have made him a rock star among Spanish-speaking YouTubers. He clearly, openly and proudly teaches his followers about every aspect of Judaism and Hassidism. His most successful YouTube video, Five Jewish Solutions That Will Change Your Life, has attracted 392,000 views.

Bronstein grew up a secular, somewhat rebellious son of prominent Masorti Rabbi Guillermo Bronstein in Lima, Peru. He lived there for 22 years before moving to Argentina to study literature. When the university fell on hard times and closed during an economic downturn in 2017, Bronstein admits, “I was very lost. I had no place to go.” He called his father for guidance, who advised him to reach out to Rabbi Isaac Sacca, the Sephardi chief rabbi of Buenos Aires, as well as founder and president of Menora, an organization catering to young people and ba’alei teshuva (those looking to become more observant).

“I went to Menora and started to learn Talmud and Jewish things and Halacha [Jewish law] and whatever. The intense studies attracted me, and I realized I wanted to be a frum Yid [religious Jew].” When Bronstein was considering becoming a hassid, he had a flashback to an experience he had more than a dozen years ago in Israel.

“In 2007, I was 10 years old and in Israel for the first time. We were in [the Jerusalem neighborhood of] Bayit Vagan for my sister’s wedding. It was 4 p.m. on Friday and we were on the balcony. I saw hats and long beards – and I listened.” 

WITH THE Spinka Rebbe. (credit: Courtesy Meir Bronstein)WITH THE Spinka Rebbe. (credit: Courtesy Meir Bronstein)

Bronstein smiles and breaks out into a niggun, a melody, which he hums and sings. “I looked up and saw a beautiful family of hassidim wearing spodeks [black fur hats]. I started listening and asked, ‘Who are these people?’ I saw myself in them. I felt my neshama [soul] – it was a very moving experience.” Without missing a beat, Bronstein makes a reference to Rudolph Otto, the German Lutheran theologian and writer who penned dozens of books including some of which have been cited by such Jewish theologians as rabbis Joseph Soloveitchik and Eliezer Berkovits. 

He checks his iPhone for the English name of one of the theologian’s books. “Rudolph explains that you can feel God in a place where people live a life of God. He got there because he entered a shul in Germany at Kol Nidre on Yom Kippur, felt the atmosphere and realized that God is there.” Bronstein connects Rudolph’s experience to his own. “So I felt the same. I felt so attached to them [the hassidim]. That feeling stayed with me my whole life.”

Bronstein recalls realizing just how different he was from others his age. “It was the first years of YouTube. My friends used to watch, I don’t know, the funniest falls, the funniest interviews. I used to watch the Satmar Rebbe dancing with his granddaughter, the Bobover Rebbe making Kiddush… I used to watch the videos of rebbes all day.”

“These hassidic ideas stayed with me my whole life and I said to myself, ‘When I am 70 or 80 years old, I want to be hassidish – not now, because I will need to stop using a smartphone on Shabbes, and many [other] things I don’t want [to give up]…” 

His time frame for becoming religious quickly moved up. “When I went to Argentina, these things started to happen, I started my teshuva process.” And Bronstein immediately began the process of becoming observant.

Coming to Israel and becoming a hassid

Bronstein came to Israel on scholarship in the winter of 2018 at age 23 to study in a yeshiva. He admits he didn’t really come to study. He ate breakfast with the other students, attended one shiur (class) and “escaped to Mea She’arim or Geula [in Jerusalem] to meet hassidim, learn what a rebbe is, etc.” 

Bronstein had a pivotal experience one day at the yeshiva. “One Friday, a guy in the yeshiva, Yoel Moshe, told me he had an uncle who was a Satmar [Hassid] and invited me to come eat with them for Shabbes.” Bronstein went to a Boyaner shul in Geula. “I will never forget the experience. I felt like I traveled back to a previous life in the shtetl – the people, the dress, the shtreimels [fur hats.]” 

The crowning achievement was his unexpected meeting with the Boyaner Rebbe at the conclusion of services. “I wanted to meet the rebbe, but he wasn’t there. We waited, and he came out. He is very humble and never looks up. He said ‘Gut Shabbes’ and shook our hand and continued walking. That was an amazing moment in my life. At that moment, I knew I wanted to be hassidish!”

Bronstein recounts that he didn’t aspire to be a hassid when he was younger. “As a kid, I wanted to be a writer and movie director.” He acknowledges that he published a book when he was 20 but was too embarrassed to elaborate. “Don’t ask what it is about. I am not so proud of it.”

After his experience with the Boyaner Rebbe in Israel and his growing interest in hassidim, Bronstein returned to Peru to consider his next move. He knew that hassidim lived all over the world. His father helped him realize, “When the mashiach [Messiah] comes, we will all need to go to Israel. And all rebbes go there sooner or later.” In Peru, he began the aliyah process. 

A female Jewish Agency representative, hearing that hassidism and rebbes were the motivating factors for his making aliyah, suggested that he not make aliyah straightaway – rather he spend one year in Israel on a MASA program, experience the country, and then decide if aliyah was right for him. 

Bronstein’s Israel plans changed – unbeknownst to him – while he was flying to Israel. When he showed up at the yeshiva where he was expecting to study for the year with all his luggage in tow, he was told by the yeshiva that they “didn’t want a hassid” and he was not actually accepted. What was he to do? He remembered he had a friend in Rehavia, who invited him to come over right away. (Bronstein smiles, saying he stayed there for three months!)

That frustrating first day in Israel quickly turned around, Bronstein says. “I was exhausted and slept from like 10 a.m. until 5:50 p.m. I woke up refreshed. I don’t know why, but I felt I needed to daven Mincha [pray the afternoon service] right away. I asked my friend for the closest shul, and he directed me to one around the corner. The first person I saw was the Boyaner Rebbe! He was at a conference nearby and stopped by to pray. I got to him like that! He said he remembered me, gave me the phone number of his gabbai [assistant)] and encouraged me to come to his shul, visit and reach out if I needed anything.”

Bronstein’s path to becoming a Boyaner Hassid continued. He had been caring for an elderly man through the yeshiva, then COVID hit, and he was no longer able to work. “I had nothing to do. It was a hard time. I got very depressed.” 

Getting into YouTube after reacting to the Netflix show Unorthodox

BRONSTEIN DISCOVERED the Netflix show Unorthodox, a miniseries about a 19-year-old Satmar Hassidic woman who is unhappy living a religious lifestyle in Williamsburg, Brooklyn – and flees. “At the same time, I started getting messages from friends in Peru and Argentina who heard I was becoming a hassid and asked if it was true or not. I decided to make a video – from a person IN hassidut – explaining what is true and what is not in Unorthodox.”

One video led to Bronstein creating many videos. “I didn’t know it would go from two to three to 500 to 1,000 to 2,000, whatever – people viewing the videos!” A Latin friend who was a successful YouTuber went to Bronstein’s house and encouraged him to keep making videos about how a Latin American guy became hassidic. 

There was one problem, however. “This thing clashed with Boyan – they are very regular haredi, ultra-Orthodox who don’t accept technology. People respected me for what I was doing, and the Boyaner Rebbe reluctantly permitted it. He said, ‘This is your parnassah [livelihood], but be aware – this isn’t a good thing and it could create problems. You should try to find other work.” 

Bronstein was in a bind. On one hand, he loved making videos. On the other hand, his rebbe wasn’t exactly supportive. “I didn’t know what to do.” The well-informed Bronstein brings examples of other well-rounded people – from modern times and from the past – who lived in both the religious and secular worlds, such as Rabban Gamliel in the Talmud, Maimonides and Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski. “I was inspired by Rabbi Twerski,” a hassid and psychiatrist specializing in substance abuse.” Bronstein really wants to show the world that it’s possible to be a haredi who uses YouTube and smartphones for good, and that one can learn secular and Jewish topics and not stop being Jewish, and particularly haredi. 

Bronstein was still not sure what to do. He was stuck at home during the quarantines and badly wanted to speak with the Boyaner Rebbe. His gabbai informed him that the rebbe was spending time with his family. “Call a rabbi,” his gabbai said. “I wanted to speak with a rebbe, not a rabbi!” 

Then Bronstein met a hassidic psychologist. “Maybe you can help me,” he said. “I am going crazy!” He was delighted by the psychologist’s suggestion to join a Zoom meeting with the Spinka Rebbe that night. “A Zoom with a rebbe?” Bronstein thought to himself, “I’ve never heard of this – I’ve heard of people recording a rebbe in secret but never this. It was true! A rebbe teaching Rashi, with his computer, on Zoom!” Bronstein approached the rebbe after the September 2020 class. “I got convinced.” 

“THAT WAS the haredi path I should follow, so I left Boyan.”

Bronstein has been happy with his decision, noting that everyone is accepted and that even people from his previous Boyaner hassidic community have been nice. 

And the Spinka Rebbe has been accepting and supportive of his love of YouTube. “When I realized you can show hassidus on YouTube, I asked the rebbe if I could maybe show more private things about hassidim. The Spinka Rebbe said, ‘Come to my house and record what you want!” Bronstein has recorded a halike, a first haircut ceremony held when a Jewish boy turns three, at the rebbe’s house and the Sheva Brachot of his granddaughter.

Bronstein is delighted that he has found a place where he can be accepted and where he can teach people about all aspects of Hassidism. At the same time, he acknowledges that many on YouTube think he is “doing a hilul Hashem [desecrating God’s name].” In any case, “They see that I am not the average hassid!”

His viewers include secular Jews and non-Jewish Bnei Noah – Noahides who see themselves as required to observe the Seven Laws of Noah to be assured of a place in the World to Come. 

Bronstein’s daily Spanish-language videos – 443 in total to date – have quite a following, with 106,000 subscribers. His most popular videos include Five Jewish Solutions That Will Change Your Life (392K); An Orthodox Jew Reacts to Argentine Humor (372K); The Ultra-Orthodox Neighborhood Nobody Has Dared To Enter (195K); and Interview with Ximena Orozco, the Actress Who Left Everything for Torah (and her conversion story). [https://www.youtube.com/@meirbronstein]

Bronstein and his wife of 10 months, Odel (“like the daughter of the Ba’al Shem Tov,” Bronstein adds), are happy living in Israel but admit “It is so expensive and difficult to live here.” He playfully yet seriously observes, “The banks take NIS 20 fees for nothing. There is a fee for this, a fee for that, a fee for breathing!” Bronstein advises olim, “Come with money, keep money in other countries, and come with Hebrew – even if it is from Duolingo!” He acknowledged that he learned Hebrew in ulpan but doesn’t speak fluently.

Bronstein and Odel hope to stay in Israel but are considering short-term teaching and keiruv (outreach) opportunities abroad “if the right opportunity comes.”

Meir Bronstein, 27 From Peru to Argentina to Jerusalem, 2019

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Original Article Published On The JP

Samuel Green, known as DJ Antithesis and “The Zionist Rapper” made aliyah to Tel Aviv and has released two EPs and multiple singles.

Samuel Green has done many crazy things to make it to Israel and continue to survive and even thrive in Israel these past 13 years.

His long, unconventional CV – which puts him in sharp contrast with the young bankers, engineers and start-up professionals who mainly populate his Tel Aviv Modern Orthodox synagogue – includes such jobs as spinning Israeli tunes on Kol Cambridge (the UK’s first and only radio show dedicated to Israeli and Jewish music) and at a club and in Tokyo, as well as rapping in front of 40,000 people in London. Green, also known as “The Zionist Rapper,” has released two EPs and multiple singles in his self-proclaimed “Zionist Hip Hop” style.

Green is also an accomplished writer, husband, father of two young children, and tour guide. His clients include senior business leaders, academics, religious leaders, politicians, journalists and celebrities, including Maroon 5 and their lead singer Adam Levine; Alanis Morissette; One Republic; The Kooks; and actress Amber Heard. In addition, Green was instrumental in helping to bring the famous Swiffer sweeping, mopping, and dusting cleaning system to the Holy Land.

The start of a love for Israel

Green’s love for Israel started in his days in Kingston, Southwest London. “Israel played a big piece growing up,” Green reports, noting a strong Zionist connection. Despite his involvement with FZY (Federation of Zionist Youth) while growing up, he, perhaps ironically, fell in love with all things Japanese after seeing a documentary about Japan and viewing the film Karate Kid. In high school, Green elected to study Japanese when it was offered, as he intended to study it at Cambridge University. Conveniently and perhaps curiously, the faculties of Japanese and Hebrew were both housed within the Oriental Studies Department.

Once at Cambridge, Green missed Israel and continued to look back fondly on his FZY days, thus switching his focus to Hebrew. “A lot of people were puzzled by that decision. That included my parents,” reports Green reflectively and philosophically in the thick English accent which remains after 13 years in Israel. “Some decisions go against the grain. Deep down, I knew what I wanted.”

GREEN’S STRONG connection to Israel includes a lifelong love of Israeli music. He has shared this love with audiences around the world through a series of online programs. He first started playing Israeli music by venturing into the world of rap music. Green was an early user of the online format. “My father worked for the phone company, and we had a DSL line before most others. I hosted a rap show for a year.”

Green hoped to continue the rap show at Cambridge University, but he was too late. “There was already a rap show. I knew a little about Israeli music, and there was no place to get it online.” While Green was excited about the possibility of sharing his love for Israeli music with a wider audience, he knew he might face some resistance to the idea. “It was the middle of the Second Intifada and the station was a bit nervous.” Nonetheless, in 2005 he was given the green light. “In the first week, we had more listeners than for any other show.” When the slot that followed the show opened up, Green asked and was given permission to expand it to two hours.

Green’s charm, passion, advocacy and creativity helped him land “a lot of Israeli big names” as guests on his show. He tracked down contact information and simply picked up the phone and called famous Israelis. “I would sometimes call and pose as my own assistant!” As a result of his creative strategy, Green landed such well-known Israelis as David Broza, Shiri Maimon, Subliminal, Mook E, Mosh Ben-Ari, and Shotei HaNevua

“We were the only Israeli program on iTunes at the time. We had thousands of fans from around the world – from the Amazon jungle to Singapore to Australia and the US!”DJ Antithesis

The program soon found its way to iTunes. “We were the only Israeli program on iTunes at the time. We had thousands of fans from around the world – from the Amazon jungle to Singapore to Australia and the US!” Despite the show’s popularity (the program was nominated in the Best Specialist Music Programming category of the BBC Student Radio Awards) and Green’s passion, it petered out upon his graduation from university as his work shifted to other Zionist pursuits.

Green began working in the mazkirut (directorship) of his Zionist youth movement and thinking more seriously about making aliyah. He realized that living in Israel would require a means of supporting himself, and he hatched a plan. “I would apply for a job with an international company – with offices in Israel – and try to get transferred.” Green applied and was accepted for an internship in the UK with Procter and Gamble (P&G), the American multinational consumer goods corporation headquartered in Cincinnati, Ohio. He made the difficult decision to turn it down, given his commitment to his mazkirut job.

Green’s chutzpah and drive surfaced when he asked soon after if he could reapply for the internship. This time, he was accepted and worked for the company in Geneva, Switzerland. “I figured it was easier to get to Israel from Geneva.” He moved there in 2008 and started to work. When his manager in Switzerland asked him about his career goals, he replied candidly, “To get to Israel ASAP.”

Green enjoyed his time in Geneva, where he integrated into the Jewish community and helped organize events for expats. “I was having a great time,” he says, although he still hoped to be transferred to Israel once his two-year assignment had ended. However, that was not in the cards. “My manager said it wouldn’t work out to go to Israel for my second assignment. I got on the bus and was miserable. It made me realize how much I wanted to be in Israel!”

A friend in the company offered him some sage yet unconventional advice – to write to the head of the Israel office. This is when “Plan Swiffer” was hatched. When Green heard that some bigwigs from the Israel office were coming to Geneva, he set up a meeting. “I was naive about hierarchy and set up a meeting.” Green informed them of his desire to bring Swiffer to Israel and asked for their help. He also followed his friend’s advice and emailed people at the Israel office. In Israel, he met with the Swiffer team. After what turned out to be an unexpected job interview, he learned that Swiffer would soon be launched in Israel – and he received a call inviting him to come to Israel in 2010 to join the team.

Making aliyah and bringing Swiffer to Israel

Green moved quickly to take care of all necessary paperwork for making aliyah. “I did all the paperwork super-fast at the end of June and made aliyah in August.” He considers himself very fortunate. “I came with a job, with a company I was familiar with. And my new colleagues were friendly and my age.”

After a few years with P&G, it was time for a new challenge. “I thought about other options like hi-tech or government work. A friend did the tour guide course.” Green admits he did have visions of becoming a tour guide but only after he retired as a way of making some additional money. Having thought about it some more, he said, “Why wait?” With that, he enrolled in the Hebrew course, which he completed in 2014. “I had a wonderful time on the course, and it was very good for my Hebrew,” he explains.

“I was fortunate – I jumped in and got slightly better work,” he notes, thanks in large part to the many connections he made through his years at P&G. He began leading tours for business school groups and business executives. “One thing led to another. And then I was guiding bands and people in the entertainment world, business and politics.” Green loves guiding all types of people and groups. “Everyone is interesting and has a story,” he asserts.

Green appears to be a master at juggling the many professional and personal opportunities that simultaneously come his way. He smiles as he reports, “I met my wife, Bat Chen, at a house party in Holon,” though they quickly realized that she had recently been at a Hanukkah party in his home! The two married in December 2012.

While on the tour guiding course, another interesting opportunity came his way. “In 2013, I got a call from people who were setting up a radio station in English. I don’t know how they heard about me, but they wanted to talk to me about doing an Israeli music show. I went in and made a demo. It was so much fun to be doing that. It went well. They said they wanted me to open the whole station, the whole broadcast. So we brought the station back live, then it moved to more of a podcast format,” he says.

GREEN RECOUNTS many exciting developments that took place between becoming a tour guide and (somewhat) settling down to family life:

DJ Antithesis Tokyo show advertisement (credit: SAMUEL GREEN)DJ Antithesis Tokyo show advertisement (credit: SAMUEL GREEN)

“Along the way, I had a kid – a girl [Ella] in 2017. And 2020 was quite a seminal year – I think for a whole load of us. Things happened both in terms of the radio and the guiding [no guiding due to the pandemic]. In January 2020, we were celebrating 15 years of the Kol Cambridge show. I put a lot of work into it and came in to do the show. The station manager, who is a lovely guy, said, ‘I have bad news – we will have to stop doing the show.’ He explained that costs and licensing issues with Spotify contributed to the decision.” Green laments.

Green remained determined to find a way to keep the radio program alive. He suggested renting out the studio when not in use and finding a way to have listeners support the program. “We haven’t had much luck with crowdfunding,” the station manager replied. “How much would it cost? Let me ask around and give it a try.” Green was successful in his search for backers. The show was up and running in April 2020 after only a month-long hiatus. “It was even more special to run the show crowdfunded – it means a lot to the people. It is nice to know it matters to them. We are creating a community of listeners. I correspond with them.” 

Green continues to support his family with a range of jobs. He has a blog (myisraeliguide.com), writes content for various tour companies, and since 2020 has managed a team of writers in his role as copywriting lead at the company Artist in the music space.

“I guide when I can – on evenings and weekends. I still love doing it,” he says. “I had a second kid [Yonaton], and [the fact that I have] a job where I am home most of the time is deeply appreciated by my wife!” His parents made aliyah during the pandemic and live nearby. Green still does a podcast once a week.

Despite his mostly settled lifestyle, Green occasionally gets an idea in his head that he just can’t let go. “I still have a love affair with Japan, and I try to get back there from time to time to keep the language going. I spent two months in Asia on our honeymoon, and I had planned a trip for 2020. It would have been my sixth trip. I had to postpone it due to COVID, which was upsetting.” But Green could not let the idea go. “Things started wearing in my brain – of going to Tokyo and playing for listeners there. The question was how to make it happen?” Green knows himself well. “When I get an idea in my head, I am like a dog with a bone. I just keep going!”

Green wrote to every contact he could think of in Tokyo, including friends, the Israeli Embassy and a rabbi in Tokyo who was friends with a rabbi friend in Tel Aviv. “Eventually, something panned out.” All of that legwork turned out to be unnecessary. “I received an invitation from my patron to perform in Tokyo!” Together, they explored venues, and Green had the opportunity to play at a small club in Tokyo on January 19, 2023. “I hadn’t DJ’d in a bar or club since I was in college. I had to get equipment, a little travel mixing deck, and download the software. A friend came from New York to teach me,” he adds. “Every night for two weeks, I’d DJ every night for myself so I wouldn’t make a fool of myself.” He didn’t. “We had a respectable turnout of 30 or 40. To the best of my knowledge, it is the biggest Israeli music event ever held in Japan, though I can’t confirm that.”

DJ Antithesis, who got his name while in FZY from a friend who said, “You are the antithesis of a rapper,” is doing his part to keep Israeli music alive and well in Tel Aviv, Tokyo, and around the world.

Samuel Green aka DJ Antithesis From London to Geneva to Tel Aviv, 2010

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Original Article Published On The Jerusalem Post

Frankie McLean, who for decades has been known as Sarit Edri, recently shared her incredible and impressive journey to Judaism and Israel. Now she’s returned to soccer.

When Sarah Frances (“Franki”) McLean left Washington State in 1991 for a year of study at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, the Catholic-born, evangelical, Baptist-raised, blonde-haired college soccer player had one goal – to master the Hebrew language. 

“I was Bible-believing but examining the differences between how I was raised and what I believed,” recounts McLean. 

“The best way to know God’s message was to read the Bible in the original.” 

“I was Bible-believing but examining the differences between how I was raised and what I believed. The best way to know God’s message was to read the Bible in the original.”Sarit Edri

During her year in Israel, McLean learned Hebrew. She also met Shimon Edri, an Israeli man from Bat Yam, who would eventually become her husband.

Frankie McLean, who for decades has been known as Sarit Edri, recently shared her incredible and impressive journey to Judaism and Israel. Now 52, she is a religious Jewish mother of six (children range in age from 5 to 26), a licensed tour guide, and a longtime resident of Efrat. 

Premier League soccer ball, illustrative (credit: PIXABAY/KEVINSTUTTARD)

In recent years, Edri has returned to her soccer roots. She is a soccer coach and pioneer in creating soccer playing opportunities for girls ages 5-13, as well as women. Edri founded the Matnas of Efrat in 2010, and last year she established Efrat Kadoorregel Moadon. 

Programs range from non-competitive classes to teams, which participate in the IFA, the Israel Football Association. 

Edri’s 19-year-old daughter, Kerenor, has been playing soccer since age eight and is a professional soccer player on the Israel National Women’s Team.

The start of an Israel journey

Edri’s Israel journey started when she came on a Hebrew University one year program at age 21. “I was a senior in college, and most were juniors. I stood out a bit, as I was one of the only non-Jews.” Edri notes that the program started just after the Gulf War. “It had disrupted everyone’s plans.” 

Fortunately for Edri, the Gulf War played a part in her meeting her future husband. “The war disrupted Shimon’s plans. He was post-army and four years older than me. He was working and was quite mature. He came to summer school at Hebrew U and was there when we arrived.” 

The two quickly began to take an interest in each other. One day he remarked, “If you were Jewish, I would marry you!” Edri adds, “He didn’t give up. After I finished Hebrew U and graduated college and got a job in Washington State, he wrote me snail mail constantly and came to visit. He was clear about his intentions – but only if I was Jewish.” 

Sarit and Shimon came from very different backgrounds. Sarit grew up in a small town on Fidalgo Island in Washington State, on the US West Coast. “My family was Catholic, and they became evangelicals.” Edri notes that there were no Jews in her town and that the “only way to relate to the People of the Book was from ‘the Book.’ She reiterates, “I figured the best way to know God’s message was to read the Bible in its original.” 

When Edri arrived at the all-women’s Wellesley College in Massachusetts to play soccer, she continued her Bible studies. “It was not the Bible classes I expected. It was critical thinking! It challenged my beliefs.” Edri’s freshman year friends viewed her as wholesome. She recounts, “I think my friends expected me to grow up to be a pastor’s wife or a missionary in the Midwest.”

Wellesley was also Edri’s introduction to Jewish people. “My introduction to ‘real Jews’ started in the college dorms. 

There were three or four Jews or halfJews in the dorms, and it was fascinating for me. They were not the Jews I had pictured from my Bible reading days. ” 

She began befriending Jews on campus, taking Jewish studies classes (she was one of the first graduates of the Jewish Studies program) and visiting the recently opened kosher cafeteria on campus.

She also began to face her own crisis of faith. “It led me to critically examine the basis of Christianity. I had to examine my own faith. The foundations of Christianity for me were shaken. And I had to examine Judaism. I was looking for something that made sense to me.” 

“It led me to critically examine the basis of Christianity. I had to examine my own faith. The foundations of Christianity for me were shaken. And I had to examine Judaism. I was looking for something that made sense to me.”Sarit Edri

Ultimately, Edri decided she wanted to convert to Judaism. And she is very clear about her motivation: “I didn’t do it for Shimon,” she says, clear that becoming Jewish was not for the sake of marriage alone.

EDRI RETURNED to Israel in 1993, worked as a secretary in a law firm, and began studying for conversion with an Orthodox rabbi. “I was the day secretary, and it just so happened that the night secretary was a convert from England!” Edri instantly felt a connection. “For me, it was a package – Israel, Judaism and the people.” 

Edri wisely decided to hold off sharing her questions and uncertainties with her parents. “I didn’t want to speak to them about Judaism until I was really sure.” 

Edri converted in November 1993 in front of a beit din (rabbinical court) in Kiryat Shmona. The beit din wanted to add a new first name and have her become Chaya Sarah. “I asked him to give Chaya as a second name so I could become Sarah Chaya,” Edri recounts. She soon after became Sarit, as there were many Sarahs already in Shimon’s family. Every year when the Torah portion of Chayei Sarah (“the life of Sarah, the 5th portion in the book of Genesis) is read in synagogues worldwide, the Edris spend that Shabbat in Hebron, the burial place of Sarah and most of the patriarchs and matriarchs. 

“It is like a birthday for me,” she says. 

Sarit and Shimon got married in the US in January 1994 and had a “big fat wedding” in Israel eight months later. 

“I wore my wedding dress three times,” she laughs.

The Edris lived in Seattle, among the Turkish Sephardi Jewish community after they got married. Shimon had difficulties finding work in his field of banking, and the two decided to return to Israel. Sarit officially made aliyah on August 8, 1994. 

One week later, on August 17, we had a 350-person wedding in Bat Yam – all done by Shimon’s family!” 

Edri praises her parents for their love, support and kindness. “I can’t express enough how they raised me. They chose shalom bayit [peace in the home], which is more important than anything else. I know it was heartbreaking for my mother and father, and I told them after I converted. My father said, ‘If I know you are searching and always seeking God’s will, I can’t ask for more than that. If you are searching and becoming close to God, I am happy.’” She adds, “They also loved my husband!” 

The Edris and McLeans have visited and gotten to know each other well over the years – despite religious, cultural and language differences.

As Edri looks back on the conversion and aliyah process, she concedes, perhaps a bit reluctantly, “I was naïve then. I was in the clouds.” But her love for Judaism and Israel and her exceptionally positive outlook remain until today. “I always want to see the beautiful, the exotic, the hopes, the rosy future, the nisim (miracles) –that’s what I’ve always seen and continue to see, even when there is traffic and rude people. Those things don’t penetrate me.” She adds, “The best time to come on aliyah is when you have nothing. At 21, I had nothing.”

The Edris’ married Israel journey started in Jerusalem. Shimon worked in banking, and Sarit completed the tour guide course. “After four years, we needed a cheaper place to live.” They joined a community in Tekoa, which consisted of 30 trailers. “Living there changes you. When you live close to the land in a more communal way, it makes you feel more connected to Israel and community,” she says. 

This experience also helped Edri’s Hebrew. “My klita [absorption] was atypical of most Americas. I married an Israeli whose family spoke no English, so I had to speak Hebrew to survive.” 

She adds, “I knew I had arrived when people spoke to me in Hebrew and I answered in Hebrew.” Since 2001, the Edris have lived in Efrat.

Sarit and Shimon are proud of their six children, who range from professional soccer player to Bratislaver Chasid. The ever-positive Edri encourages olim to “find your passion and follow it.” She is pleased that at age 52 and after almost 30 years in Israel, she has not had to give up her two passions – Israel and soccer. 

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