“I Was All Soul and No Cover”: Gitel’s Honest Return to Modesty

“I decided to start covering my hair,” Gitel shares emotionally. “And the people around me were so happy. They told me, ‘Until now, you were like a blank check worth a million dollars with no signature!’ That image stuck with me. They saw that I had so much to offer, but something was missing. They used to say, ‘You speak like a rebbetzin (a rabbi’s wife), but you don’t cover your hair.’ There was a split between my body and soul. But baruch Hashem (thank G-d), I overcame my inner struggle.”

Gitel, now 43, traces the roots of her connection to Judaism all the way back to age 11, when she lit Shabbat candles for the first time and cried from the experience. But it was a painful financial crisis years later that shook her world and made her realize she had nowhere to turn but to Hashem.

Originally from the south, she moved north after marrying her husband Moshe, whom she met during her army service. “I came north for love,” she says. “I realized he couldn’t work for others, so together we opened the restaurant, where he’s the chef.”

Gitel describes herself as having grown up “traditional-secular.” She always felt something deeper stirring in her. “When I was 11, I lit Shabbat candles for the first time and just started crying. My mom did most things besides not lighting fire on Shabbat. I saw what happened in the homes of my religious friends when I’d stop by on Shabbat. It touched something in my soul.”

At 14, she made a bold decision: she left home to live in a boarding school. “My mom worked four jobs. Shabbat was the only day she had to clean, and unfortunately, that meant everything, and everyone got cleaned out. I admired her, but I didn’t want to live like that. My dad worked at the Ashdod port doing hard labor, like many who hadn’t gone to school. From a young age, I helped support the family by cleaning stairwells, babysitting, even organizing exercise classes for neighborhood kids for five shekels. I gave most of the money to my mother, but I quietly saved some and used it to pay for the boarding school myself. I was like a second mom to my siblings. But I knew if I didn’t leave home, I’d become just like her.”

At the boarding school, she continued to take on responsibility, becoming the group leader and looking out for her friends. “That was just who I was,” she reflects.

After finishing high school with full matriculation, she enlisted in the army at 19. That’s where she met Moshe, her future husband. “After we married, we moved to Katzrin. I’ve always had a business mind and knew I wasn’t meant to work for someone else. Moshe was shy but incredibly talented in the kitchen. We had a little money, bought a house, and decided to open a restaurant in the Nehemiah Mall in Kiryat Shmona. Life was good and we had two cars, a beautiful home, a thriving business, a housekeeper, and a nanny.”

But at their peak, everything came crashing down. “We made a bad business deal not related to the restaurant and it led to massive financial losses. We had to sell our home in Katzrin, move in with my father-in-law, and basically start over. We even had to let go of staff. I lost half a million shekels.”

Through the darkness, faith started to shine. “If your emunah (faith in Hashem) isn’t strong, it’s easy to fall into despair. My husband had moments where he wanted to give up. I’d tell him, ‘Go take a walk and calm down.’ He’d end up going to remote places and just talking to G-d. He didn’t even know it was called hitbodedut (personal prayer time), but that’s what he was doing.”

In 2007, everything changed again when a friend gave Gitel Rabbi Shalom Arush’s book The Garden of Emunah. “That book gave me strength. That’s when my real teshuvah (return to Jewish life) began. Even from the time I got married, we kept family purity laws, used a Shabbat hotplate, and avoided turning on lights. But it was gradual. Every Shabbat we removed one more electric appliance. For years, we’d do Kiddush, eat our Shabbat meal and then move to the living room and turn on the TV. Eventually, even that stopped.”

“It took 20 years,” she says with a smile. “But it was a real and lasting change. Now, on Shabbat, we have Torah lessons and say Tehillim (Psalms).”

One of her final steps was covering her hair, something she had done for holidays and prayers, but not every day. “I have big, curly hair. That was part of my identity in town, ‘the one with the hair.’ But on the day before Shavuot, I was at the Kotel (Western Wall) on a trip with Hidabroot, and I just felt it was time. I felt I owed it to Hashem.”

When she returned and began covering her hair full-time, the community responded with joy. “I already wore dresses and hosted Torah classes in my home, so people weren’t surprised. But their reactions were mostly just happiness.”

Looking back, Gitel says, “You have to believe, really believe, without saying ‘but.’ Everything happens for a reason, and we can grow from every challenge. We have a choice. I thank Hashem for everything because without the hardship, I wouldn’t be who I am today. Now I feel things just pass through me. They don’t weigh me down like before.”