Operation “Shaagas HaAri” caught hundreds of families in the midst of wedding preparations, forcing many to scramble for last-minute solutions as air-raid sirens and security restrictions disrupted planned celebrations. With event halls canceling bookings and gatherings restricted, families across Israel have found creative ways to hold weddings—conducting chuppahs in school buildings, shelters, and even private apartments offered by neighbors.
The military operation began unexpectedly on Shabbos morning, Parshas Tetzaveh–Zachor, at around 8 a.m. A piercing siren shattered the quiet at a time when many homes were filled with excitement. In numerous families, the fathers of chassanim had just accompanied their sons to shul for the traditional aliyah the Shabbos before the wedding.
Within moments, the mood shifted dramatically. What had been a week of joy and anticipation leading up to the chassan and kallah’s big day quickly turned into days filled with uncertainty, pressure, and urgent problem-solving. While historians may one day view that siren as the opening moment of a wider military confrontation between the United States, Israel, and Iran, for hundreds of families it marked the start of a deeply personal ordeal.
After Shabbos ended, new Home Front Command directives began circulating: events were canceled, large gatherings restricted, and families were told to seek alternative arrangements. Many mechutanim received calls from wedding halls informing them that the celebrations could not proceed as scheduled. Some venues canceled outright, while others said they could not guarantee that weddings would be able to take place on the planned date.
“Suddenly we found ourselves without a place to marry off our child,” one parent recalled. “It’s hard to describe the feeling. Beyond the financial burden, there’s tremendous anxiety. Until the last moment you don’t know where the chuppah will be held, what will happen with the catering, whether the photographer can come if the wedding is moved to another city, and what about the band. Everything has to be rebuilt within days—and sometimes within hours—without knowing where things will end up.”
For many, the situation felt like a return to the days of the coronavirus pandemic, when weddings were often held in homes or improvised spaces. At the time, some people believed that smaller daytime weddings might become a long-term model that would save families significant expenses. But once normal life resumed, the modest celebrations quickly gave way again to large events in major wedding halls.
Few imagined how quickly circumstances would force a return to those improvised arrangements. As the current conflict intensified, nearly any available space became a potential wedding venue: underground parking garages, neighborhood shuls, public shelters, and small halls typically used for brissim.
“On Monday I married off my daughter,” said S., the father of a kallah. “Until Sunday afternoon I still had no idea where the wedding would take place. Only at the last moment did we find a hall that had a protected area. I started calling everyone I knew—friends, acquaintances. I don’t even use WhatsApp or those kinds of advertising tools. Baruch Hashem, in the end the wedding took place properly. Everyone came, and even many guests.”
Neta Shefer, manager of the “Hakeramim” event hall in Beit Shemesh—part of the “Baninu” organization founded by chessed activist Rabbi Yaakov Eliezer Shisha—said that during the war his team has continued working to assist orphans and families in need while also helping couples whose weddings were suddenly canceled.
Speaking about the hectic days since the operation began, he described scenes of parents desperately searching for solutions. “We saw parents who were helpless,” he said. “Families who didn’t know where their children’s weddings would take place. We made every effort to find solutions. Other hall owners also went above and beyond to help families celebrate their simchos.”
“At the same time,” he added, “there were also difficult cases: phones that were hung up, requests that went unanswered, and sometimes even refusals to help families or return their deposits.”
The crisis has also produced moments of creativity and kindness. In one case, an office room in a building was converted into a makeshift yichud room. In another instance in Ashdod, when no suitable space could be found, a neighbor opened his private apartment for the newly married couple.
“None of us had ever seen such a luxurious yichud room,” participants joked. “A spacious apartment, private facilities—the entire community stepped forward to help.”
Even amid the stress, unusual stories have emerged. The wedding of the granddaughter of the Toldos Avrohom Yitzchok Rebbe, originally scheduled to take place in an auditorium in Beitar, was ultimately held in the Karlin beis medrash in Givat Ze’ev. The kallah insisted that singer Aharale Samet perform at the celebration, but he in turn would not sing accompanied by drums—the traditional Yerushalayim-style “poiker.” In the end, a new arrangement was found to ensure the couple’s simchah went ahead.
“Mi ke’amcha Yisroel,” Shefer said, reflecting on the past days. “It’s incredible to see how willing families are to adapt so that a chassan and kallah can celebrate their wedding on the right day despite all the challenges.”
He recalled visiting a small hall one morning where a bris milah was being held. Guests were heard blessing the infant with the traditional words, “Kesheim shenichnas…. Just as he has entered the covenant, so may he enter Torah, chuppah, and maasim tovim.” Only hours later, in that very same hall, a glass was broken under the chuppah as a chassan and kallah were married there.
{Matzav.com}
