Judy Maltz: Using the special Yemenite chant he learned decades ago as a young boy, Moshe Hizmi recites the Haftara portion that follows the weekly Torah reading, as a hush falls over Beit Daniel this Shabbat. And in the chair behind him sits his proud wife – a Filipino convert. Wrapped in a colorfully embroidered prayer shawl, Rina, as she is now known, follows the reading diligently from her own prayer book. “It’s because of her that I’ve come back to Judaism,” concedes Moshe over the Kiddush lunch that follows the service.
Moshe and Rina are one of about half a dozen middle-aged couples at this Tel Aviv synagogue who share an unusual profile: The women are all Filipinos who converted to Judaism through the Reform movement, and their husbands or partners are native-born Israelis who grew up in Orthodox or traditional homes, but ultimately abandoned religious practice, only to return to it under the influence of their Jewish-by-choice wives.
“I preferred Reform Judaism because it’s modern, the women sit with the men, and you can dress normally,” says Sigal Shimshi
As is the case with most of these couples, this is chapter two for Sigal and Chanoch. She has three children from a previous marriage, and he has two. Like all these Filipino women, Sigal came to Israel to work as a caregiver. Six years into her stay in the country, she met Chanoch, who was introduced to her through a common friend. “I had put the word out that I was interested in meeting a Filipino woman,” recounts Chanoch. “I guess my gut instinct told me this would be a good thing for me, and a friend gave me her number.”
They’ve been together for eight years, and last year Sigal completed her conversion to Judaism. “She’s by now more religious than me,” boasts Chanoch. “You should see her. She won’t leave the house Friday night without lighting candles.”
He and Sigal attend services regularly at Beit Daniel on Friday nights and Saturday mornings. Together with the other mixed Filipino-Israeli couples, they have Shabbat dinners almost every week. “We have a WhatsApp group so that the women can coordinate who’s bringing what,” explains Sigal. “We leave the men out of that.”
Moshe and Rina Hizmi, who converted two years ago, met at a Tel Aviv nightclub and have been married for almost eight years. He has two children from a previous marriage, and she has one.
Moshe, who was raised in a traditional home, was completely non-observant by the time the two of them met. That is why Rina initially didn't tell him when she first ventured into Beit Daniel.
“We had been together for quite a few years at that point,” she recounts, “and we’d always go to his family for Rosh Hashanah and for Passover, but I never understood what was going on. That got me thinking about converting, and a friend of mine recommended the Reform movement.”
After attending Shabbat services on her own a few times, Rina suggested that Moshe join her. He was initially reluctant, as he recalls. “What have I got to do with the Reform movement?” was his response.
But deep down, he admits, he was quite moved. “It made me happy that she wanted to become Jewish,” he says.
His wife’s successful integration into Israeli society, observes her proud husband, goes beyond her smooth transition to Judaism.
“She knows how to cook up a mean Yemenite meat soup,” he boasts.
Bnei Lot are of an ancient origin. In the migratory tradition of Ruth begun more than two millennia ago, a remnant of David and Solomon migrated into Maritime Southeast Asia which comprises what is now Brunei, East Timor, Indonesia, Malaysia, New Zealand, Papua New Guinea, The Philippines, and Singapore, as well as Melanesia, Micronesia, and Polynesia, with a sizeable minority of Malays migrating back to their tribal allotments in Sephardic Judah, besides Terrestrial and Figurative Jordan.