The couples who attend Hitkashroot have a serious problem: one spouse is religious and one is not. Through a course of seminars— and lots of work at home— these couples learn how to accommodate, communicate, and even thrive
Photos: Ezra Trabelsi
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he seminar room at Hitkashroot, on the small moshav of Gimzo in central Israel, looks something like a large concrete tepee: a large cone supported on all sides by thick wooden beams. It’s as if the architect wanted to create headspace.
It is here that ten couples come together to air their grievances against their spouses. This one plays with her phone on Shabbos. This one isn’t providing the proper chinuch for her kids. This one is taking on too many chumras. And this one just couldn’t care less.
The couples cut across the socio-economic strata and represent the gamut of Israeli religious life. There are men in the room wearing black velvet kippahs and there are women in the room wearing jeans and tall black boots. Oddly enough, the guy wearing the black kippah is married to the woman wearing the jeans and the boots, the odd pairing that is the reason for Hitkashroot’s existence.
Back in 1992, Ami Baram decided to take a trip to India. It almost wasn’t a decision, explains Baram, since it’s more like a rite of passage for Israelis who have completed their army service. He was away for three years in total and explored all the spiritual delicacies that India has to offer. He spent time on an ashram, delved deep into meditation, became a practitioner of yoga. After side trips to the United States and South America, he returned home only to discover that there were no ashrams or gurus. India’s wide spaces, wild nature, and freedom to explore were replaced with the cramped streets of Tel Aviv. India had opened his mind, but now it felt like it was shutting tight.
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