From South Tel Aviv to Teshuvah: Rosie Finkelstein’s Journey of Healing, Faith, and Purpose

The many women who come to Rosie Finkelstein’s Chinese medicine clinic in Givat Shmuel are often surprised to find women there from every corner of Israeli society. “It’s not by chance that my clientele is so diverse,” she says with a smile. “It reflects all the stages I went through in my own life — because there isn’t a single sector I wasn’t part of at some point on my journey toward full teshuvah.”

Until nearly age 34, Rosie didn’t really know what prayer was. “I returned to Judaism only thanks to God, who illuminated the path for me,” she says emotionally, and begins to tell the story of a life filled with Divine providence and closeness to the Creator.

Choosing the Right Side

“I grew up in the Yad Eliyahu neighborhood in south Tel Aviv,” Rosie recounts. “I was a sensitive child, very aware of what was happening inside me and around me. Today I know there’s a name for it — hyper- or over-sensitivity, what’s often called over-regulation. I had a very strong awareness of my own physical and emotional states, and of what others were going through. I could ‘read’ their pain. That’s how I noticed that my mother suffered from a chronic condition of severe back pain. It hurt me so deeply to see her like that, and already then I decided in my heart that when I grew up, I would heal her.

“At that time we lived in south Tel Aviv, in a building where apartment doors were left open all day long. That was very typical of the area. Every day when I came home from school, I could see exactly what was going on in the neighbors’ homes, and go in and out as I pleased. I loved that lifestyle. I especially connected to one neighbor, a woman of Iraqi descent. She took care of me like a mother, and I often stayed in her home and felt like part of the family.

“I can’t really explain how or why, but one day that neighbor and her family became religious — and not just religious, but extremely so, truly ultra-Orthodox.

“What was most interesting was that from that moment on, their doors never closed. And I, with childlike curiosity, would peek into their home again and again. I became familiar with mitzvot and customs, watched how they prayed, kept Shabbat, and listened to lectures on Judaism on cassette tapes. I felt how it added a whole new color to my life. At home there was some tradition — we lit candles occasionally, but nothing more than that. Suddenly my eyes were opened, and from a very warm place in my heart I felt that I wanted to be like that too.

“I was only seven years old when I went to my mother and said, ‘I have two dreams for when I grow up — to heal you, and to be religious.’

“I still remember my mother’s response. She said simply, ‘You can’t be religious, because to be religious you have to be born that way.’ I accepted the answer and went on with my life, occasionally thinking about it and whispering a quiet prayer, asking the Master of the World, ‘When will it be my turn…?’”

Moving Forward

Rosie experienced the beginning of her official return to Judaism when she was about 34. One day she found a booklet in her mailbox with the title Dvar Malchut on the cover.

“The moment I opened it, I understood it was related to Chassidut,” she says. “There were articles in very small print, and the name of the Lubavitcher Rebbe appeared throughout.

“My first instinct was to throw it in the trash, like most mail you get that doesn’t really interest you. But at the last moment I decided to keep it. I took it home and tried to read it — but I didn’t understand a single word. Eventually I put it in the closet, where it stayed for years. Every so often, on Tisha B’Av or another fast day, I would take it out and try to pray from it, without really knowing how. No one ever taught me how to pray — not in elementary school, and certainly not in high school.

“Today I understand that I wanted a connection with God. I walked around with that feeling for decades, and the booklet was like a lifeline I tried to use to create that connection.”

More years passed. Rosie began studying Chinese medicine, a four-year program, and at the same time studied parenting education and psychology at the Adler Institute.

“Of course, it was standard psychology, not Jewish psychology, and it made me very uncomfortable,” she says. “I felt it was distancing me from my inner purpose. I wanted the opposite — to come closer to God and to the purpose of creation. One of the things secular psychology teaches is to create ‘healthy distance’ from one’s parents, who are seen as the root, and to develop an independent self. That created a huge conflict for me. I grew up with amazing parents who didn’t keep mitzvot, but who always educated me toward giving and kindness as much as possible. I couldn’t understand why psychology taught us to abandon what we were raised with.

“Only later did I understand that there is also psychology according to Judaism and Chassidut, with very different principles. Today I’m happy to educate my children to stay connected to their parents’ values, to Judaism, and not to detach from the good, strong, deep roots. Even if it seems to us that the roots aren’t perfect, instead of focusing on flaws, we should look for the good.”

A Mission Inside the Clinic

“As time went on, I found myself drawing closer and closer to Judaism,” Rosie continues. “There’s no single moment I can point to and say, ‘That’s when everything changed.’ It was a constant process of growth. My acquaintances used to call me ‘the rebbetzin.’ On the inside I was already fully religious, but on the outside I still dressed normally, in jeans, short sleeves, and hair uncovered.

“In the meantime I married my husband, we lived in Givatayim, and we were part of the religious-Zionist community there. But nothing was simple. We defined ourselves as religious, yet keeping Shabbat was very difficult. At some point, after several years of not driving on Shabbat, I felt like I was suffocating. I had two small daughters and didn’t know what to do with them for an entire Shabbat at home. One day my husband and I decided to go back to driving on Shabbat — and unfortunately we did so for a year.

“I have to say, that was the hardest year for me. After several years of partial Shabbat observance, it was unbearable for me to go to malls and shopping centers and see people walking around as if it were an ordinary day. I simply couldn’t contain the situation. Eventually we returned to full Shabbat observance — this time from a complete and even more advanced place, with a hot plate, urn, and all the necessary stringencies.”

During those years Rosie gave birth to her third child, and about a decade later they became very close to Chabad Chassidut.

“One day I attended a Tanya class, and at the end they suggested learning from the Dvar Malchut booklet,” she says. “To my amazement, I realized it was the very same booklet I had at home. It felt like closing a circle.”

From there, the process accelerated rapidly. Rosie and her husband grew stronger day by day, and today she herself gives regular Chassidic classes to women in her neighborhood on Shabbat.

“We’ve merited that our home is run with holiness and purity,” she says. “Before anything else in my life, I’m a mother to my children, and I try to give my family everything I can. At the same time, I practice Chinese acupuncture and reflexology, treating women and girls, with special expertise in fertility, IVF treatments, and women’s health.

“I feel this is a mission — to ease pain and encourage healing processes in the body. Through my work I also find myself talking a lot with the women who come to me, and I feel I have the ability to understand and contain them, precisely because I’ve been through so many different situations in my life. I can truly understand any woman, in almost any situation.”

It’s impossible not to ask — what about your mother? Did you fulfill your dream of healing her?

“My mother has a serious chronic condition,” Rosie says, “but to this day she says that when I touch her, she feels better. When necessary, she also turns to other specialists, and each time I’m happy to hear that she’s feeling improved. I pray that I’ll continue to merit being a good emissary — for my mother, for my patients, and for all of Am Yisrael.”