We led youth programming for another shliach, but we were soon ready to strike out on our own. Originally, we wanted to stay close to home, but we soon realized we needed to broaden our horizons. Even so, Australia was a bit too broad. When the option first came up, we almost dismissed it out of hand. Australia was too far. All our family and friends would be half a world away! But then we figured - isn’t that what shlichus is all about? Besides, in today’s global village, is anything really “too far?”
Neither of us had ever even been to Australia before - let alone a desert area even native Australians knew little about! An exploratory trip was necessary, and our plans were already underway when war was declared. My mother-in-law, a Russian native, knew just how unpredictable things could get, and warned us the border would soon close. So, without much further ado, we packed up our three little children and everything we owned and flew across the world to the Sunshine Coast.
If we were at all unsure that we’d made the right decision, all doubts were put to rest almost immediately. As we stepped off our flight and walked through the tiny airport, we met a nice Russian Jewish family. We were able to share some of the matzah we’d packed for the upcoming holiday. Although the Sunshine Coast was entirely new to us, Chabad was not new to the Sunshine Coast. They’d been on Chabad of RARA’s roster for years, so whenever a tank was loaded up to set off across Australia’s regional and rural areas, they always visited the Sunshine Coast, renewing their acquaintance with the Jewish community here.
With Pesach just around the corner, we had no time to gradually integrate ourselves into the community. With a lot of help and support from RARA headquarters, we pulled off a magnificent Pesach seder with over 70 guests! Although we were exhausted by the end of it, we were also exhilarated. This is what we’d moved across the world for - to provide matzah, marror, and kosher l’Pesach potato kugel to all these Jews who would’ve had nothing otherwise. It fueled our passion to continue.
“Hey, Rabbi! Can we chat?” asked a man who introduced himself as Moses* on the phone.
“Sure,” I replied.
When Moses came, he told me he was a Christian who had some theological questions. He began quoting one Scripture after another, jumping from New Testament to Old, and asking a bunch of questions.
I answered him patiently, but soon enough, I decided it was his turn to sit in the hot seat.
“Tell me about yourself, Moses,” I said. “What’s your family like?”
“I have a great aunt you’d really like!” he shared. “She told my mum that we’re Jewish. She was the sole survivor of her entire family. She used to make special bread and light candles.”
After questioning him a bit more, I started to get excited! Chances were pretty high that Moses was actually Jewish! No wonder a so-called “Christian” felt compelled to come speak with a rabbi! After doing some heavy research, I discovered that he was!
Moses now basically lives in our home, soaking up as much Jewish knowledge as he can. He got his family involved too, and his mother is an extremely active member of our community. She follows in her aunt’s footsteps by lighting Shabbos candles every Friday night.
The raindrop of Moses’s seemingly random phone call echoed out in a ripple of positivity.
I had a wild idea for Chanukah. Instead of a plain menorah, why not honor the culture of the Sunshine Coast by creating a menorah from surfboards?
I reached out to our community WhatsApp group, asking if anyone had extra surfboards they could lend for the project.
“I can introduce you to Liam*,” Moses’ mother offered. “He’s a pro surfer, and I’m sure he’s got some extra boards!”
I contacted Liam and explained my vision.
“That sounds awesome, Rabbi!” Liam said, excitedly. “I totally want to help make this happen! I have a bunch of boards you can use, but how exactly are you planning on building this thing?”
Liam helped me create a practical design for our surfboard menorah. He even volunteered to build it, and told me he’d come to the Chanukah event to set it up and make sure everything worked well.
I was amazed at this total stranger’s dedication for a Jewish cause and thanked him warmly.
At the event, I had some time to chat with Liam. When he told me his mother had converted to Christianity to escape antisemitism, I was thunderstruck!
“Liam, do you know that according to Jewish law, a Jew remains a Jew, no matter how many times they convert? Your mother is still Jewish, which means you are, too!”
I grabbed my tefillin and showed them to Liam, explaining their spiritual and religious significance. I announced to everyone that we’d be celebrating a “bar mitzvah,” and I helped Liam place the tefillin on his head and arms. Both of us were emotional, and the crowd burst into a joyous rendition of Siman Tov Umazal Tov as another Jew found his way home.
I traveled to Brisbane with a friend to put a mezuzah up at their new Holocaust museum. We had some time to look around, and I saw a video of Holocaust survivors describing their experiences. My interest was drawn to the caption, which named the Holocaust survivor Suzi Smeed and her city of residence. Since she lived relatively close to me, I decided to get in touch.
