"I Promised Hashem: Send Me My Partner – and I'll Return to Judaism"

When Keren Bateman-Tayeb was five years old, one persistent question troubled her: "Why did I come into the world?" The answers were numerous and varied, but they never satisfied Keren. "So I kept asking," recalls the 36-year-old art director, who never thought she'd find the answers to all those questions in Judaism. "I was a very curious and opinionated child, who had to understand everything."

However, the only response to her pressing questions was suitable employment. "Because if you have so much time to think about such 'serious' things, it's a sign you're bored. So here, let's read a good book or do a creative activity together," says Keren, owner of the 'Dosa' design studio, married and mother of four from Jerusalem.

As a child, she always smiled at such 'creative' solutions. But as she grew, so did that internal 'hole', demanding to be filled with answers. "I had a lot of thoughts about death, and I couldn't stand the feeling. I remember looking at myself in the mirror and thinking I was some kind of alien. I didn't understand how 'the world goes on'—how everyone lives here with all the disasters and questions, and no one stops to ask themselves what's truly important."

At that stage, did you try to find answers to your questions?

"Not at all. I was terrified to tell people what I felt, and more than that: I never thought there were answers to these questions. I was sure it was something that only bothered me, and that I had to work on my thoughts."

So life went on. But meanwhile, during her self-discovery journey, other things 'widened' the hole so much that at 25, Keren decided she didn't want to marry. "I thought to myself: 'What's the point? For one evening with a beautiful dress?' Of course I wanted a relationship. But I didn't believe in the institution of marriage as it is in secular society. And I assure you, if I had married as a secular individual, it would certainly have been a 'stringent' Reform wedding."

"I Looked at the Sky and Cried Out: 'If You Send Him to Me, I Promise I'll Return to Judaism'"

Feeling overwhelmed by loneliness, she 'silenced' her thoughts with a solo trip to South America – something very uncharacteristic for her. "When I returned to Israel, I moved to Tel Aviv. Despite the constant sadness, I decided no matter what happens, I'm going to live life to the fullest. I tried to feel, live, and enjoy every moment."

Even then, Hashem didn’t abandon her. "Life simply smiled at me, and I had personal providences I can't explain. I got a job as an art director at one of the more prestigious advertising agencies and became 'workaholic'. All that mattered was how to succeed and make myself feel as good as possible."

For five years, everything flowed smoothly. But then, almost without preparation, she was seized by a terrible sense of emptiness like never before. "Even today when I remember it, I feel the pain. I found myself alone in a large, empty apartment, which was quite rare, feeling the walls closing in. I remember crying aloud and shouting my loneliness to the sky. Although I didn’t really acknowledge His existence then, I found myself saying to Hashem: 'Enough already! I can’t be alone anymore. I can’t be without a loving and embracing relationship anymore.'"

Then she accidentally uttered the following phrase: "If You send him to me, I promise You I'll return to Judaism." However, almost immediately she retracted: "Actually no, actually no, actually no," and cried into her pillow until she fell asleep. "I have no idea why I said that. At that time, I was the last person on earth capable of 'saying' such things. It felt as if it didn’t come from me, as if someone put those words in my mouth."

The Day She Sang 'Lecha Dodi – Welcome the Bride', She Received the Surprise Proposal

But something was always there: saying thank you and lighting candles every Friday night. "Even as a secular person, it was clear to me that I needed to be grateful for what I had and that nothing is taken for granted. Good friends, a lovely home, supportive family, a good job—because I saw how everything in this world is so fragile, I understood that as long as I had these things, I had to appreciate them."

Did the Shabbat candles come from home?

"No, it was entirely my initiative. Something I believed would only do good, certainly not harm."

Then, a few days after that 'slip of the tongue', Adam appeared in her life. He worked at a delivery company connected with the office where she worked. "Our first conversation was about whether I believed in Hashem," Keren recalls. "When I said I believed in various things, he felt it necessary to give me a 'crash course' on the differences between me and a stationary table."

In that conversation, she realized for the first time that the difference between her and that table was the soul within her. "I was pretty shocked by what I heard from him; it scared me."

How did you react?

"I immediately told him not to even try because I wasn’t going to return to Judaism," she smiles.

But the conversations with Adam, in a world 'going downhill', did their job. They talked a lot about things Keren, whether she admitted it or not, was thirsty to hear. "At his advice, I watched lectures by Rabbi Zamir Cohen and Rabbi Yitzchak Fanger on the Hidabroot channel, until one day the picture became clear, and it was obvious that this was the absolute truth."

Once that happened, out of gratitude to Adam, she jokingly told him: "Let's get married." It was a joke, but every joke has a grain of truth—and since 'covenant sealed to the lips', that's exactly what happened. "Three months later, we stood under the chuppah," says Keren.

Was there a proposal?

"Yes, even though I didn’t expect it at all. What's amazing is that the proposal came on the day I was happily humming 'Lecha Dodi – Welcome the Bride'."

So you knew he was going to propose.

"I really didn't know, but one thing I can tell you: During that period, I started working on myself with guided imagery techniques, and even though there was nothing on the horizon, I told everyone that I'd be getting married that year. I was sure it had to happen, so I said it to believe, and I believed so it would happen."

The wedding took place six years ago at the Great Synagogue in Tel Aviv, and since then Adam and Keren have been blessed with four lovely children, may they multiply—Yishai, five, Shira Amalia, four, Yehuda, three, and Bari Avraham, six months. Meanwhile, Keren works at her studio, dubbed 'Dosa', which she was called when she returned to Judaism. "My studio is one of the great loves of my life, and almost all the expression I get to put into it is about strengthening the connection between religious and secular. Hashem opened a door for me as welcoming as a banquet hall, and He never disappointed me for believing in Him—when I was fired from my job, after refusing to work on Shabbat. Looking back, I see how everything was for the best. I trusted Hashem to make things okay, and indeed He did, giving me the most loving embrace possible."