Married Under the Open Sky

We stood near a gleaming pond nestled within a circle of age-old, giant Sequoia trees. The mighty croak of a bullfrog called out from the reeds, as if answering our ancient call to attention from the shofar.

On July 2, my husband, Sagi Salomon, and I affirmed our yechidut (unity), surrounded by family and friends who joined us for our four-day wedding camping experience in a mountaintop forest at Balch Park in Springville, part of Sequoia National Forest. 

As I stood under the chuppah and gazed into Sagi’s eyes, I saw an eternity of searching, loving, depth and perfection.  Not the elusive perfection that society tries to sell us, but the perfectly flawed type that allows for real growth and connection.

From the symbolic home that Sagi and I built, I could feel the soul of the forest dancing for joy and heavens pouring out immense love. The water, bursting with life, the deeply rooted trees and the wide-open skies seemed to inspire a sense of freedom.

We discovered Balch Park by accident during a summer road trip. The forest radiated a subtle yet powerful ancient energy that felt deep, grounding, healing and inspiring. This park — a world within another world, located a few hours from the nearest major city — became our quick escape to a sacred land in which the human spirit could slow down to meet the rhythms of the earth. Being in nature helps us feel the oneness of the heavens and earth, the physical and metaphysical, every creature, human and animal, the sensual and the transcendent, Hashem and the Shechinah (feminine presence of God).

After camping in Yosemite and Sequoia, it suddenly made sense to us why the greatest moments of opening and receiving of the Divine Spirit within the Jewish tradition had taken place in nature and why it was the most fitting place to join our souls in marriage.

On a fundamental level, being in nature rekindles the soul and reminds the heart of what really matters in life, what is possible for humanity, and who and how we need to be for the world to experience a tikkun (repair).

Planning and executing such a grand event was a challenge. The question of what is enough and what really matters shaped our entire wedding.

We understood that the marriage is far more important than the wedding, and yet the wedding should also be an elegant and fanciful affair steeped in the spiritual essence of Jewish tradition.

Rabbi Dara Frimmer of Temple Isaiah, our dear friend and wedding officiant, provided unending and loving support and guidance throughout the entire process, helping us explore and integrate Jewish traditions into the wedding and camping experience.

We also attended a workshop series, “Celebrating Men, Satisfying Women,” which provided us with tools and insights for understanding the opposite sex and creating a peaceful, loving and passionate partnership. Sagi and I explored each other’s values, dreams, needs and desires, carefully documenting our individual and united goals, defining the core values that serve as the foundation of our marriage. This study was then used to create our liberal ketubah, which outlined the physical as well as the mental, emotional and spiritual obligations as a representation of our vow to each other. 

In addition to a liberal ketubah witnessed by two women — Sheri Bluebond, my Jewish big sister, and Susan Elias, Sagi’s godmother — we chose to honor the traditional Orthodox ketubah with two Shabbat-observant male witnesses and friends, Gal Ben-Naim and Moshav’s Yehuda Solomon. This decision came about from our desire to bridge the old and the new and create a balanced, holistic foundation.

I bought a gown from Brides Against Breast Cancer, a nonprofit organization that sells new and used donated gowns to help make a wish come true for a woman dying of breast cancer, emphasizing that a bride need not compromise on the beauty of her gown to take a stand in reducing consumption and waste while also doing a mitzvah. Sagi handmade my jewelry, and he recycled the doilies crocheted by his late grandfather and stitched them together to create the chuppah, now a family heirloom.

All the decorations were handmade by family and friends, purchased with the intent of creating a simcha gemach — communal lending of items to be reused for many years to come. (In fact, they are already on loan for an upcoming wedding.)

Using handmade invitations, we had invited 75 of our closest and dearest family and friends for a camping wedding celebration to “explore what is possible in celebrating love consciously, to feel blessed and inspired as we immerse in the ancient energy of the forest, to experience the oneness and inherent perfection in nature and embrace the oneness and perfection in one another.”

Although the destination was remote, our guests enjoyed a feast of kosher Persian food from Sason Catering, displayed on tables draped in copper silks and decorated with centerpieces made of moss, branches, silk butterflies and flowers. There was dancing on a wooden dance floor, celebrating to the live sounds of Moshav jamming away in the woods, from traditional Chasidic songs to The Beatles.

Sagi, a professional electrician with King Salomon Energy Electric, designed and installed all of the event lighting in a way that would not leave a mark on the park’s environment. While the wedding dinner itself was served on china, all paper goods used throughout the weekend were biodegradable and compostable, and the wedding programs, which we wrote and decorated, were printed on recycled paper.

The Jewish communal camping experience after the wedding represented our commitment to creating a loving community — one supportive of individuals of different backgrounds, which joined together for rituals and celebration in nature.

Lest anyone think the guests were granola-crunching, Birkenstock-wearing, grungy greenies, the camping party included bankers, educators, rabbis, politicians and attorneys hailing from Bel Air and Beverly Hills to France and New York. Contrary to popular belief, Jews can survive in the wild and enjoy it too.

The camping experience was every bit as magical as the wedding, especially because each person contributed their talents to creating an organic community. Mornings began with hot foods cooking and coffee brewing on the stove and people waking up with a peaceful glow in their eyes.

On Friday morning, while some guests enjoyed horseback riding through the woods, others joined Sagi and me at Hidden Falls, where the Tule River tumbles down the mountainside, guided on either side by grand trees — some fallen and others growing high — with bark floating in circular pools, inviting guests to swim and splash for sheer pleasure, fun and transcendent renewal.

The Shabbat candle lighting that evening featured the glow of 30 tea lights set upon a large tree stump with people gathered around, arm in arm, chanting and swaying. There were songs of kabbalat Shabbat, the rhythm of the drums and shakers and the crackling of the roaring fire. I invited each person to set their kavanah (intention) for Shabbat and dwell in it, for it is this dwelling that creates a vessel for possibilities.

Sagi and I had rescued and restored a 200-year-old sefer Torah from Poland for the occasion and read it before a giant Sequoia tree. I led the service with my friend, Sara Allinson, which combined meditation, kavanot and traditional prayer text.

As providence would have it, the Torah portion for the week was Parashat Chukat-Balak, which echoed our camping experience. In this parasha, Balaam, a master of the dark arts, is hired to set a curse upon the tents of Israel. Instead, he blesses the people with the words: “How fair are your tents, O Jacob; your dwellings, O Israel” (Numbers 24:5). How truly fair it was to dwell peacefully as One.

Rachel N. Bello holds degrees in Jewish studies and nursing, and is cultivating a holistic health program that blends spiritual Jewish traditions, energy, complementary and Western medicine. For more information, e-mail {encode=”RachelNBello268@gmail.com” title=”RachelNBello268@gmail.com”}.