Tears, shvitz and a forgotten mazal tov

It was bloody hot.

Our youngest son Jake married the beautiful Bibi at the Botanical Gardens, Melbourne. In the middle of summer. Thirty-seven degrees in the shade. I cried, I shvitzed and my heart was bursting.

However, it wasn’t completely what I expected as “mother of the groom” (MOG), even though I was not a novice in this role. Our lead-up events, the day’s challenges, uplifting moments and associated emotions created an experience I will never forget.

I asked Chat GPT (my new best friend) what is expected of a MOG at a Jewish wedding. Not much, it seems. A little help with the planning, host a Shabbat dinner before the big day, walk your son down the aisle, stand under the chuppah and wish him mazal tov after he steps on the glass. Some of you know by now that I don’t like to do things by halves. “Fine” is never enough. So I embraced the challenge with arms wide open; I was going to be the best MOG I could be.

The aufruf (call-up) was at our shul in Sydney. The night before, we hosted the bride’s (Melbourne) family at our place for Shabbat dinner. It was perfect: 24 of us around the table, three generations and a veritable feast, proudly cooking many of my Monday Morning Cooking Club favourites. It set the scene for Saturday morning in shul, which was exceptional.

Surrounded by family and friends, balancing baskets of kosher lollies on our laps, we watched our “baby of the family” stand on the bimah, flanked by Danny (Dad) and Matthew (future father-in-law). The bride’s mum Sharona is Jewish; her dad is Irish Catholic. It warmed my heart that Matthew was embraced by the shul, and it warmed my heart even more that he was happy to be embraced by the shul.

I adore the choir and I’m always the one singing too loudly. My voice is not so great but I score 10/10 for enthusiasm. Our chazzans sang from their soul and Mi Sheberach, the prayer for the IDF, stirred something in each and every one of us. I took a minute to acknowledge to myself how grateful I am to be part of this incredible community and how proud I am to be Jewish.

After shul and the essential kiddush whisky, we organised a groomsmen’s lunch – both families, all the boys and copious amounts of delicious food and wine. We toasted the couple-of-the-moment – our new “macha” family connections deepened after each plate was devoured and each glass consumed.

With enormous excitement (and a little trepidation), our family headed to Melbourne to begin preparations. As is the custom, the bride and groom were not going to see each other for seven days before the wedding, which gave us Goldberg family time. Danny and I arranged a dinner with our four kids, without partners (as much as I adore those partners!). It was a bonus and a privilege, just for one night, to once again be the original six.

After this special lead-up, the wedding day was finally here. All week I really wanted the day to arrive but, at the same time, I really didn’t want it to be over.

I was so happy to be an intrinsic part of the groom’s camp. Jake and 25 of his mates and cousins started the day with a swim, a mikvah in a sense. Croissants and coffee poolside and a palpable excitement in the air. A couple of hours later, at our hotel (which had become the wedding party hotel), we sat down with the groomsmen for lunch, much needed sustenance for the day ahead. What a moment it was to welcome them back into our room an hour later, each looking dapper and handsome, slightly nervous and already shvitzing, ready to help Jake get to that chuppah.

Singing along the hotel hallways, we headed to the chosson’s tisch, the pre-wedding get together of blessings, songs and the signing of the marriage contract – the ketubah – by the required “kosher” witnesses and several l’chaims. Rumour had it that women were not invited. I was hearing none of that. I was going to watch from the sidelines and would welcome a little of that whisky.

After the “formalities”, the rabbi invited each person to say something about Jake. I was blown away. The eloquence, the emotion, the respect, the love and the tears. And then raucous songs and so much ru’ach (spirit). An experience I will always treasure.

After the tisch, we drove – just Danny, Jake and me – to the bedekin veiling ceremony. This tradition assures the groom that he is not marrying the wrong girl, learning from our (biblical) forefather Jacob, who wasn’t so lucky. These days – like many things – the bedekin is bigger, louder and more joyous than it was in our day. At my wedding, I simply sat on a brown bench in the cloakroom at Elwood shul while Danny checked it was me, and placed the veil over my face.

Back to Jake. I was shaking a little as I stepped out of the car – and not because the temperature had hit its peak. The men waited behind and I headed inside. It was intense, a truly overwhelming few minutes. I walked through a large room packed with our extended families, towards the bride, not sure where to look as there was so much to see.

The girls’ entourage were clapping and shouty-singing to welcome me first. An emotional moment indeed as I looked at Bibi – as a bride – for the first time. She took my breath away, just glorious. I sat down and we looked towards the door. Peak emotional anticipation. Waiting for the single never-to-be-repeated moment that the groom will meet his bride for the very first time.

The boys arrived in full song and great spirit, led by our Jakey, now the groom. Blessings were made, Jake lifted the veil forward to cover Bibi’s face and they were ready to get married. Tears flowed. Absolute joy.

At last, onto the chuppah. Walking down the aisle is a moment like no other. I counselled myself to be present, be in the moment. It’s okay to shvitz like mad (and we did), but it’s not okay to sweat the small stuff.

It was so ridiculously hot that I wasn’t sure my mum, 93-years-old and frail, could make it down the grassy path to the chuppah. She started walking down with two of our kids, and we held our breath. We huddled under the narrow shade of a tree (with some other visitors to the Gardens who thought we were very odd, all dressed up and under a tree) and couldn’t see if she actually made it.

I had to assume she did because it was soon our turn. We had practised linking arms and walking slowly-but-not-too-slowly for the aisle walk but decided at the last minute that it was way too hot. Holding hands would have to do. Apparently, the MOG walks on the groom’s right. It would have been good to know that before the wedding.

The canopy of our chuppah was made up of two tallits, side by side. One belonging to my late father Jack, and the other to Bibi’s late grandfather Les. It was incredible to stand under it and look up. They were both watching over us.

The bride circled the groom and then we sang the prayer for the IDF. The rabbi began the service. I was watching my mother as my siblings fanned her from two sides. I forced myself to return to the service. The wine and the ring.

Is Mum okay? Should we send her home? The ketubah was read, the commitment and pledge. But is Mum okay? The sheva brochas, the friends offering prayers and song. I hope my mum will get through this. Then the haunting melody of Im Eshkachech is sung, to ensure that, even in the midst of our joy, we do not forget Jerusalem, before the breaking of the glass.

I close my eyes and immerse myself in the song. They now have a cold towel on the back of Mum’s neck and my sister is nodding, mouthing “she’s okay”. Jake steps on the glass. Mazal Tov. In the excitement of the moment and the anxiety over Mum, I didn’t wish Jake mazal tov at that moment. The one job that was prescribed!

Once I had confirmation that mum made it home, I could breathe again.

We went on to dinner and dancing, and we shvitzed. Boy, did we shvitz! So much ru’ach. Beautiful speeches, each and every one acknowledging the plight of our people in Israel and in the diaspora. A favourite part of the speeches was from Matthew, along the lines of “my small community all stand with you”. So reassuring and so perfectly said.

At the end of it all, this was – for us – a near-perfect wedding, one we will remember with joy. All that really matters is the joining together of two souls, Jake and Bibi, both of whom we love so much.

My advice to future MOGs is:

All images: Lost In Love Photography