Don’t sing at a Zoom wedding

But then, just last week, a Facebook message popped up from my cousin, letting me know that he and his bride were going to tie the knot in just a few days’ time and asking me to circulate the Zoom link to all the cousins in the UK. It was never going to be the same as being there in person, but I was excited to participate, nevertheless.

Zoom weddings have become ubiquitous over the past few months. In May, Vogue ran an article on the subject, advising those planning to stream their nuptials to their nearest and dearest to be sure to invest in a Zoom pro licence, and consider hiring the services of a videographer, or at the very least a tripod and some Bluetooth speakers.

Of course, in much in the same way that Israeli weddings tend to have a rich seam of balagan running through them, compared to their carefully stage-managed Anglo-Jewish counterparts, my cousin’s Zoom affair wasn’t quite so smooth.

I entered the Zoom room to find numerous European friends and relatives of the bride already in there, chatting excitedly and occasionally ululating. The mute button, it seemed, is not a familiar feature over the Channel. I considered digging out my reserves of A-level French to politely ask them to couper le son s’il vous plait, but while I was dithering around with Google Translate, the free Zoom meeting came to an end, and we all had to shuffle off to join another link. I came back in to find that everyone had in fact now muted, except for my mum and dad… the cue for some frantic WhatsApping by me. One is never too old to be embarrassed by one’s parents, it seems.

When the chupah did finally start in earnest though, it was a heart-warming experience. Yes, the sound was fading in and out, the images wavery, and the bride’s beauty evident only through a haze of pixelation, but when I watched my uncle and aunt embrace their three children, and my other uncle step forward to say one of the sheva brachot, I won’t deny I had to turn off my camera so no-one could see my watery eyes and reddening nose. The spirited singing and dancing that followed the breaking of the glass was every bit as joyous as the scenes I remembered from my other cousin’s wedding, and my enjoyment of it was only slightly marred by the fact that one of the European Zoomers had decided to unmute and join in loudly. Top tip — unless you are a professionally trained singer, never ever raise your voice in audible song over Zoom.

As the stream came to an end and I turned off my web cam, I gently touched by Bubby’s brooch, carefully pinned to my scarf for the occasion, and reflected that, Zoom or no Zoom, my grandparents had been just as present at this wedding as they had been at all their other grandchildren’s. While I would much rather have been there in person, breathing in the atmosphere under that darkening Jerusalem sky, I was very glad to have been able to participate as well. And I do, of course, still have one or two unmarried Israeli cousins — you know what they say — next year in Jerusalem!