Lawyer in Haifa: a story of divorce, children, and an apartment – a complicated story from a reader

Who I am and why I’m sharing this

“My name is Irina. I came to Israel from Ukraine almost twenty years ago. It seemed that life was settled: a husband — a native Israeli, two children, an apartment in Haifa. We lived in marriage for 14 years, and I sincerely thought that ‘in joy and in sorrow’ we would succeed.”

But reality turned out to be different. When he said the word “divorce,” everything inside me collapsed. I knew that in Israel, divorce is not only a personal drama but also a marathon through rabbinical instances, notaries, Bituach Leumi, and endless queues at Misrad HaPnim.

Then I realized for the first time: without a Russian-speaking lawyer in Haifa I simply wouldn’t manage.

First step: find “your” lawyer

I was looking for someone who could not only understand the laws but also speak my language. Friends whispered: “Go to the lawyer who has already helped ours — he will explain what a get, hotzaa le-poal, and other scary words are.”

I came to the office on Herzl Street, 2 with a folder that looked like a suitcase. The lawyer looked at it and said:

“These are not documents, these are bricks. But don’t worry, we’ll build a proper foundation from them.”

And you know, he was right.

Children: the hardest part

The main pain — two children. I was afraid that the ex would try to take them from me. He hinted: “The court will look at who has the apartment and decide.” I felt cold inside.

The family lawyer in Haifa explained that here the child’s interest is taken into account, not the parents’ ambitions. At the rabbinical court session, the ex tried to portray me as an “unfit mother.” The lawyer calmly said:

“She raised the children for 14 years, and suddenly today she’s called incompetent? It’s absurd.”

The judge nodded, and for the first time, I felt that I was not alone.

Rabbinical court: a trial for a non-Jew

The hardest part was that our divorce went through the rabbinate. The husband is Jewish, and by law — only this way. And I’m not Jewish, and I felt like an outsider.

The queue at the rabbinate stretched as if they were giving out free tickets to the Maldives. The husband easily spoke Hebrew, and I caught individual words and got confused.

The lawyer warned in advance: “Tachles, the rabbinate is not just law, but also traditions. Without protection, you can lose more than it seems.”

At the session, the rabbi asked me about religion and origin. I almost replied: “Is this a certificate for children or a note for the fridge?” — but held back in time. The lawyer intervened, explained the legal side, and insisted: obligations in marriage are the same for everyone.

If I had gone there alone, I would have come out empty-handed.

Apartment in Haifa: seemed hopeless

We lived in a three-room apartment registered to the husband. He assured: “It’s mine, you’re nobody here.” My heart sank: does that mean I’m on the street with the children?

The lawyer laughed: “It’s not that simple. In Israel, property acquired in marriage is divided.” For me, it was a revelation.

I brought a stack of documents. He looked and said: “This is not a folder, but a whole hotzaa le-poal in miniature. But no worries, we’ll sort it out.” We went through everything down to the last receipt. The result: the apartment was divided fairly, and I didn’t end up with the children without a roof over our heads.

Inheritance: an unexpected trap

I didn’t think about inheritance. But the husband’s parents left an apartment, and he wanted to register it only to himself. I was sure I had no rights.

The lawyer explained: if there are children, their share should also be considered. And even inheritance doesn’t always look as simple as it seems. In the end, we arranged everything so that my children weren’t left out.

Humor amidst chaos

Sometimes it was a joke that saved the day. When I complained for the hundredth time about the queues at Misrad HaPnim, the lawyer said: “A queue in Israel is a separate religion. The main thing is to know which rabbi to pray to.” We laughed, and the tension eased.

Or the moment when the ex tried to prove that the children would be better off with him because “he has a stable job.” The lawyer just noted: “Stability is when mom knows who did the homework and where the uniform is for tomorrow.” The judge smiled, and the ex fell silent.

Conclusion: what I learned

The process lasted more than a year. I was tired, lost weight, cried at night. But without a Russian-speaking lawyer in Haifa I would have lost everything.

• The children stayed with me, the court considered their interests.

• The apartment was divided fairly.

• The inheritance was arranged so that the children didn’t lose their rights.

• In the rabbinate, I didn’t feel crushed by the system.

And most importantly — I realized that a lawyer in Haifa is needed not to “fight” for you, but to turn chaos into order.

Advice to women in a similar situation

If you are married to an Israeli and think you can handle divorce, custody, and real estate on your own — don’t deceive yourself. Here everything is different: get through the rabbinate, ishurs, hotzaa le-poal, Misrad HaPnim — words that make your head spin.

And if there is no one nearby who knows all these systems from the inside, you risk being left with nothing.

I share my story because I want to tell others: don’t wait until it’s too late. I saved myself and the children only because I turned to a lawyer in time.

📍 Office address: Haifa, Herzl St., 2
🌐 Website: https://katsmanlaw.co.il/

From the editor: Frequently Asked Questions

📍 Office address: Haifa, Herzl St., 2
🌐 Website: https://katsmanlaw.co.il/