Rabbanit Mechi Fendel spoke with Dr. Hanna Katan and shared a deeply personal account of her journey to Israel, reflecting on decades of challenges, from building a life in Sderot to facing war and illness, while holding fast to a faith that continues to guide her.
Born in the United States, Mechi describes how her path to aliyah was not a slow consideration but a sudden clarity that took hold during her year in Israel after high school. Like many US high school graduates, she came after 12th grade to study at Michlala in Jerusalem, but what she expected to be a temporary experience quickly became something definitive. From almost the first days, she felt a powerful sense of belonging and conviction that there was no other place for a Jew to live than Israel.
Rabbanit Mechi recalls how Rav Copperman would gently weave messages about Shabbat and aliyah into daily life, planting ideas that resonated deeply with her already forming beliefs. But she knew what she had to do. She began writing home to her parents with a growing intensity, explaining that the Judaism she had known in America felt incomplete compared to what she was experiencing in Israel.
In her words, “tefillin worn in the Diaspora felt like ‘signs,’ while in Israel Shabbat, kashrut, and daily Jewish life felt like the real thing. Even everyday interactions shaped my sense of identity. I remember how in the US I would smile politely at postmen or ask how bank clerks were doing, but still feel a distance, while in Israel, even strangers felt like family."
These were “our Jews," she says, “our brothers and sisters." That sense of home became undeniable.
With that clarity came major life decisions. She gave up her childhood dream of studying medicine and becoming a doctor, choosing instead to study computer programming.
At the time, Rabbanit Mechi explains, “it felt practical. I was thinking ahead of marrying someone learning in kollel. I wanted to be able to support a modest house hold."
After two years at Michlala, Rabbanit Mechi returned to the US to complete her degree, and then she came back, met her husband, and began building her life in Israel.
Her husband later studied in Yeshivat Sha’alvim, and together they entered a world deeply rooted in Torah. For many years they lived within that rhythm, but the deeper story of their communal mission began in Ramle during the major wave of immigration from the former Soviet Union after the Iron Curtain fell and the Gulf War era in the early 1990s.
She remembers vividly the early days of that period, the arrival of thousands of Russian immigrants, the distribution of gas masks, the instructions to seal rooms and cover windows, and the surreal sense of emergency preparedness in daily life.
At home, she was raising seven children while managing the realities of that time. Yet in the midst of it, she and her community were deeply engaged in outreach. They would travel to Ramle, bringing food, gifts, and cakes, knocking on doors to welcome new immigrants.
Eventually, through connections with local community organizers, they began hosting structured Shabbat meals for newcomers. The municipality or community center would sometimes send a translator along with groups of 10 to 15 people who had just arrived from the airport or by boat, many of whom had never experienced a Shabbat meal before. She describes those evenings with emotion, welcoming strangers into their home, hearing kiddush for the first time, and sharing in dancing and joy that bridged enormous cultural gaps. This monthly mission continued for about five or six years, shaping their sense of purpose and responsibility.
That chapter eventually led to a turning point when “we were approached by Rabbi Rachanim Nesimi about moving to Sderot as part of a Garin Torani (religious outreach group) initiative. Although the idea initially sounded temporary, just a one-year commitment, they agreed without hesitation, despite never having visited the city.
“When they arrived," Rabbanit Mechi continues, “the conditions were stark. Sderot at the time was physically underdeveloped, with no sidewalks and no parks for children. Yet despite the barrenness, there was a strong sense of warmth among the residents, as if we were getting a “big hug" from the community. The people were kind, open, and deeply connected to one another, even if the infrastructure was lacking. What began as a one-year commitment quickly became permanent. We stayed, and ultimately built our lives there for 31 years."
“Over time," she says, “my husband became deeply involved in establishing what grew into a major Hesder yeshiva. What began as a modest initiative developed into the largest institution of its kind in the region, with hundreds of new students entering each year, combining Torah study with army service. Then about nine years ago, a midrasha for women was established under the same institutional umbrella, expanding our educational mission even further."
Alongside this public work, Rabbanit Mechi shares something deeply personal: her diagnosis with multiple sclerosis, “This is the moment when life unexpectedly changed direction. Suddenly, instead of focusing solely on building and giving, I was confronted with my own vulnerability and uncertainty. I realized that Hashem throws curve balls, but how was I supposed to deal with it. I was speaking quietly to Him one night, acknowledging that if His will was for me to be limited physically, I would accept it, even if it meant doing less for the Jewish people."
In what Rabbanit Mechi calls a gift, her condition stabilized in a remarkable way. “Today, my neurological evaluations show no active signs of the disease, aside from MRI evidence. I attribute this to both medical treatment, including Copaxone developed in Israel (she says she is very proud of the fact that her treatment is ‘Made in Israel,’ something she sees as part of a broader story of resilience and innovation), and a combination of lifestyle choices and determination. I continue to exercise, run, do Pilates, and swim. I remember the early days after diagnosis, when I began swimming early in the morning in a mixed pool for which I receive rabbinic approval, simply because I needed movement and refused to let fear dictate my life." “That decision," she says, “was about willpower and survival."
Each of Rabbanit Mechi’s children is involved in different forms of service and mission, some in Israel, others in Torah-related work, and each in their own way connected to a sense of shlichut (mission), purpose, and responsibility.
Rabbanit Mechi also speaks about the war that erupted after the October 7th massacre on Simchat Torah, recalling that “Simchat Torah in Sderot has always been a powerful expression of joy, with the yeshiva traditionally splitting into groups that would visit multiple synagogues, bringing dancing and celebration. The day was tightly scheduled, beginning early in the morning so that by mid-morning the community could move from prayer to outreach."
“But that morning was different," she says. “After hearing the Red Alert sirens, I went to the safe room with my daughter-in-law, but we quickly realized that the day would not unfold as planned. I rushed to the yeshiva, where confusion was already spreading. Eventually, it became clear that terrorists had infiltrated the town, including the police station located just meters from the yeshiva."
“Instructions were given for armed responders and emergency personnel to step forward while others remained inside the fortified building. The yeshiva, built over years of missile attacks, provided a sense of protection, and in some ways became both a shelter and a battleground of purpose. Some members of the community went out armed and engaged directly in fighting. There were documented cases of participants confronting and even eliminating attackers."
“Yet even within that chaos," Rabbanit Mechi adds, “Simchat Torah continued in a different form. Instead of celebratory dancing, there was a profound, heavy form of movement, holding Torah scrolls, swaying in prayer, and crying out to Hashem. It was a Simchat Torah transformed into tefillah under fire, an expression of faith in the middle of war."
“As more information emerged that morning about coordinated attacks across multiple cities, we began to understand the magnitude of what was unfolding. At the same time, we had a complex emotional reaction, pain for the tragedy, but also a feeling that, after years of rocket fire and partial attention from the country, the reality could no longer be ignored. The situation had become undeniable, fully exposed."
Looking at the broader war that has followed, Rabbanit Mechi “sees it as part of a much larger historical and spiritual moment. We felt that this was the writings of prophecy that were unfolding in real time, pointing to conflicts across multiple fronts, Gaza, Lebanon, Syria, Yemen, and beyond. Israel was standing at the center of a multi-front struggle, yet we were also experiencing a growing international alignment and support. We were cleaning out the wickedness for the entire world."
Despite the challenges, Rabbanit Mechi expresses a deep sense of optimism, “redemption is not abstract or distant, but something unfolding now, step by step. These are not only difficult times but also historic ones."
Rabbanit Mechi concludes with a message that has become central to her life: encouragement for aliyah. She speaks passionately about Israel as home, not just spiritually, but practically, emotionally, and existentially. In her view, “there is no safer or more meaningful place for Jews to live. I encourage those hesitating to come, to be part of what I call “the welcoming committee," and even to “beat the Mashiach rush."
Rabbanit Mechi ends the conversation on a shared recognition of that sense of belonging, “after more than five decades in Israel, I have never left the country since arriving. I am unable to imagine life elsewhere. For me, and for many who share my path, Israel is not just a place, it is home, and the stage on which history, faith, and daily life continue to unfold."
