My wife was born on shlichus, growing up in Stony Brook, helping her parents teach university students about Judaism.
We both added to our experience by, after our marriage, working with the Johnsons, at Chabad of the University of Texas. It was an invaluable experience under expert tutelage that empowered us, when we were offered a post of our own at Ithaca College, to accept it with confidence.
We’re still in the beginning stages, having moved out just under two years ago. Our first order of business was getting recognized by the college as an official student club - not an easy feat in most US colleges.
We began by gauging student interest, offering programs or services they requested. We’re continuing to grow our current programs, as well as adding more. A year ago, we had six or seven students as guests at our Shabbos table; now, we’re fully maxed out at 20 guests each week. We offer Shabbos and holiday programs, Sinai scholars, lunch and learns, and other one-on-one opportunities to deepen the student’s understanding of their heritage.
Grady* was heavily influenced by his brother’s close and growing connection to Judaism. Although he didn’t know of any Chabad rabbis on campus at Ithaca College, where he was returning for a second year, he knew the Torah-true lifestyle was the path for him. He made up his mind to keep Shabbos. He knew it would be difficult. Although Ithaca has a kosher dining hall, Grady doubted there’d be anyone else keeping Shabbos. He knew it was the right decision, and firmly put all doubts and questions out of his mind.
Of course, Grady was delighted to find that Ithaca College had just welcomed its own shluchim! He was our guest that first Shabbos - and every Shabbos since.
He’d been keeping kosher for a while, and he was quickly soaking up everything we could teach him about Shabbos. He was open and receptive to learning about anything and everything in Yiddishkeit - with one notable exception. Shomer negiah was one thing he had not yet accepted. He considered hugs a core part of his friendships. How could he suddenly and so drastically alter half the friendships and relationships he’d built, especially since his female friends might not understand why he was doing it in the first place? He simply wasn’t prepared for the slew of uncomfortable interactions he’d have to survive multiple times a day.
Grady had applied to Maayanot Yeshiva in Yerushalayim for the following year, and he focused on that as his starting point.
“Once I’m in Jerusalem, in a male-only yeshiva, without having to talk with those friends and family who’ve known me forever, it’ll be much easier to take on,” he explained. “Then, when I return from yeshiva, this will be one of the practices I adopted while there. Hopefully, that’ll make more sense to my friends.”
A few weeks later, I attended a farbrengen in New York, where Rabbi Eli Silberstein from Chabad of Ithaca shared a story about a student from his college, Clark*. Rabbi Silberstein had been talking to Clark about starting to keep kosher. Clark was on board, but he wanted to defer for a few months. He told Rabbi Silberstein that he’d start as soon as he graduated. Now, he was in a frat home, and it would be too uncomfortable and difficult to explain such a radical change to all his friends.
“Keeping kosher in New York City is pretty easy,” Rabbi Silberstein told him. “The real test is now, in college, when there are many more obstacles in your way. That is a true commitment to Hashem.”
Clark was still hesitant about how differently he’d be treated by his friends. Rabbi Silberstein assured him everything would work out.
So, a couple of nights later, Clark banged on the communal table and announced to all his frat brothers, “Guys, as much as I love you all, I’m going to keep kosher now, and I won’t be able to eat with you anymore.”
Clark wasn’t sure what reaction - if any - he’d receive. He certainly wasn’t expecting all his brothers to rise to their feet and give him a standing ovation!
I returned from the kinus in a thoughtful frame of mind. I had a standing weekly chavrusa with Grady, and the next time we met, I casually shared the story I’d just heard.
“I don’t need to point out the obvious,” I concluded.
Grady thought for a few moments before nodding his head decisively.
“You’re right, Rabbi. Being shomer negiah in Israel isn’t proof of commitment. The true test of my faith is if I can do it here, in college. Can we schedule another weekly class so I can learn the laws of shomer negiah?”
Grady posted about his new resolution on social media, and was shocked to receive a wellspring of support when he’d expected scorn and hostility.
