Esther Limor: "I Turned to Hashem and They All Turned to Me"

I first met Esther Limor at a family event— a rather unique Bat Mitzvah celebration that was tailored as a special women's evening. The family had invited Limor as a guest artist to lead the challah baking ceremony and sing with the Bat Mitzvah girl. I remember being unable to take my eyes off her. She radiated an extraordinary grace and calmness. Later, when she performed, she made sure no men were around, and her voice gave me chills with its beauty. It was clear she was someone remarkable, with a fascinating life story. As fate would have it, we met again later through Hidabroot.

A Good Jerusalem Girl

Esther Limor was born in a secular Jerusalem household with ties to tradition, as the second of three siblings. Her family lived near the Geula neighborhood, in what is now a central spot of the ultra-Orthodox community. Her father was a successful contractor, and her mother a homemaker. Limor attended secular schools, beginning with primary school and continuing to Alliance High School.

Simultaneously, she acted at the Khan Theatre in Jerusalem. Later she joined the military and served in the Air Force Band, where she met her husband. After leaving the army, they married and formed a duet named "Duo Limor," performing across Israel and globally.

Trading One Mask for Another

During the height of their success, the Gulf War broke out, marking a crucial turning point in her life. "After so many performances both in Israel and overseas, success came to a halt as we were compelled to stay home on Shabbat evenings, which was our peak performance time. But that's when the missiles were being launched, especially on Shabbat. So we spent more time as a family, and gradually, I began to appreciate the beauty of Shabbat and wanted this to continue even beyond the war. It definitely improved our marriage as well, offering us more time to communicate."

Limor also heard about the miracles during the war and how very few casualties occurred. "We weren't as prepared as today's army. We stayed inside while Hashem fought for us. These miracles ignited something within me, encouraging me to connect with Hashem and begin taking action."

That year, the Lubavitcher Rebbe proclaimed that the war would end on Purim, when the gas mask would be traded for a Purim mask. And indeed, it happened as such. "I found myself, on Purim Eve, facing a secular audience and declaring, 'Look, the war has ended exactly as the Rebbe predicted. I'm taking off my gas mask, and I'm a testament to the Rebbe's words.' People looked at me as if I had just landed from the moon, but I couldn't cease marveling at the Rebbe's accuracy."

After that performance, Limor decided to tell the luxurious "Cocktail" hall in Kfar Saba where she regularly performed, that she wouldn't work on Shabbat anymore. "They were shocked," she recounts. "I stood firm, saying this was a decision and not up for debate. I also told them that keeping the place open on Shabbat was fundamentally flawed. Gradually, they turned the venue kosher, immersing all their utensils. Today, the place is still open, but now it's fully kosher."

Meeting Rabbi Edelstein Was Half an Answer

During that time, Limor felt an inner urge to seek answers, which she and her husband found through conversations with Rabbi Edelstein from Ramat HaSharon. "Seeing him was like halfway to fully returning to faith for me," she narrates. "We connected with him profoundly, and he remains our Rabbi today, setting me on this path."

How did your husband react? Was he interested in returning to Judaism as well?

"My husband returned gradually. He's more analytical, so he studied deeply, read, and examined everything thoroughly, while I was moved by faith and insights, taking in things and understanding from within. I was truly enlightened, constantly experiencing Hashem's miracles and couldn't ignore them. Gradually, I began to observe Shabbat. Meanwhile, I questioned my readiness for this transition. We both wanted to get it right, so we proceeded carefully."

After stopping weekend performances but continuing during the weekdays, Limor realized she could no longer sing in front of men. "Through my journey of repentance, I found an absolute truth that I couldn't ignore. So I stopped entirely and disbanded the group. I cried a lot to Hashem, praying for the chance to keep performing, and soon after, organizations and groups started inviting me. I just turned to Hashem, and everyone started turning to me."

Weren't you afraid to leave everything behind?

"I wasn't afraid. I acted like a soldier with a clear mission. Yes, there were challenges and unfavorable reactions from some, but I persisted. We sold our house in Caesarea and left our previous life behind. People questioned why I'd do that to myself when I had money, was beloved and in demand. Yet I just replied that I found the truth, and wanted to live by it, regardless of understanding or acceptance from others."

Filled With Prayers for the Missing Boys

Esther continues to pursue her passion for singing and connecting with women, sharing one poignant story. "A few weeks ago, the day the radio announced the discovery of the captured boys, I was invited to perform at the Kineret Hotel in Tiberias for a thousand mothers on a retreat. It felt like we stood at Sinai. We were united in prayer for the missing boys, whose fate was still unknown, crying out to Hashem. We accepted the sovereignty of heaven in tears, proclaiming, 'Hashem is our God,' an indescribably grand event."

"Afterwards, I headed to a challah baking event in Haifa and received an excited call saying the captives were found, but their condition wasn't disclosed. I almost fainted as I switched on the radio with shaky hands to hear they were murdered. Despite the heartache, it felt like the heavens shared that our intense prayers filled the quota for these righteous souls and spared us further suffering. Another participant called to echo the same thought the next day, confirming my sense of truth."

Head Covering? Only Drapes and Curtains

Even in Caesarea, Limor started to adhere strictly to modesty, yet covering her hair seemed like an insurmountable challenge. "It was the hardest part for me and complex for those around me. Modesty earned me compliments after much prayer, and people praised how it suited me, especially given my past as a singer. That is until I tried to cover my hair. Initially, I wore wigs but couldn't connect with them and removed them. I desired to wear a scarf but couldn't find one that fit me."

"One day, at home in solitude, I prayed to Hashem. My eyes fell on a runner on the dresser, and without a second thought, I put it on—and it looked stunning. I even performed with it, answered questions from women who asked about it. It was years before I transitioned from wearing drapes and tablecloths after seeking divine help at Rabbi Meir Baal Haness's tomb and found suitable scarves outside."

Esther, now a mother and grandmother, concludes, "Returning to faith is all about realizing Hashem is always with you—it's delightful but no fantasy. We may have sold our Caesarea home, dissolved the band, and faced tighter finances, but we gained so much more. Through my repentance, I achieved dreams unreachable before, such as performing in the U.S., previously impossible as a secular artist. Now, I continue to do what I love most, singing and uplifting women through warmth, love, and joy to Hashem, singing and dancing. That's my way."