The Wednesday afternoon program took advantage of the last hour of the school day to teach Jewish kids in public schools about Judaism. The program was wildly successful in Brooklyn, and Rabbi Hecht, the organizer, was soon ready to introduce it to schools in other parts of the state.
I’d only recently returned from yeshiva, and I was soon appointed to head the Long Island division of the program. I got to know the area well, so when I married in 1976, it made sense to use my connections and build a more permanent shlichus there.
Over time, the once-a-week Released Time hour turned into so much more, including a full-fledged Hebrew school, adult education, minyanim, holiday programs, and so much more.
When we first moved, we were the only shluchim in Nassau County. Now, 35 couples serve the same area!
In those early years, to make sure we were reaching as many people as possible, we split Nassau County into four parts, and made sure to organize a program in each quarter on an ongoing basis. We held classes in different peoples’ homes, attempting to create a warm community atmosphere amongst a smattering of Jews spread out across 200 miles.
We were zoche to be among the first to create programs that are now ubiquitous in Chabad houses all around the world, such as Hebrew School, Model Matzah Bakery, and reinvigorating life into pre-existing congregations.
As the only shluchim in such a large area at a time when shlichus was relatively new, it felt like we had a blank canvas. There was so much to be done; so many Jews to meet; so many demographics to cater to! We decided early on that we’d always try to be on the “cutting edge” of shlichus, trying to fill and anticipate every need of any Jew in our area.
In the late 90’s, there was a growing sense of unease and disillusionment amongst teens. Knowing how much the Rebbe emphasized positivity and empowerment, we wanted to do something to change the trend. The Columbine school shooting was the final straw.
We began the Good Deed Awards for Long Island Teenagers, which asked public schools throughout the county to nominate their students for a good deed or accomplishment. Since its inception, we’ve given the award to over 1,500 boys and girls. Many of them are now leaders in their respective fields, be it law, politics, or business.
Every year, we hold the ceremony, inviting previous winners, community leaders, and elected officials to join in celebrating these future leaders. It’s always a highly anticipated event, which not only encourages teens to be a force of good, it allows us to reach every segment of society in a positive way.
Every summer, we held a “Moonlight Cruise with Yiddishkeit.” We rented a boat for the night and invited about 50-60 people to join us for a cruise with kosher food, drink, music, and an inspirational speaker.
One year, I sent our flier to the Rebbe for approval and a bracha. The flier was beautifully designed and advertised the event, including “music,” “champagne,” and “guest speaker Rabbi Hecht.”
A short while later, I got a call from Rabbi Leibel Groner AH, the Rebbe’s secretary. “The Rebbe crossed out the word champagne,” he told me.
“Of course, I’ll do whatever the Rebbe says to do,” I agreed. “I just wanted to clarify – the champagne we’re serving is a special brand, with hashgacha from Rabbi Garelik. We were very excited to promote it!”
I received a reply almost immediately. The Rebbe said that champagne, by itself, can be taken as unkosher. The flier must specify that this was kosher champagne.
I reprinted the fliers with the correction, and the Rebbe gave us a beautiful bracha for success.
I’d heard the president of a synagogue in Long Island was ill, so I went to visit him in the hospital. After speaking with him for a while, I headed out. I was crossing the main lobby when a doctor ran after me.
“Excuse me, are you a rabbi?” he asked, breathlessly.
With the ink on my semicha barely dried, I felt unworthy to own it, but I admitted that I was.
“I need you!” he said. “Follow me!”
Completely at a loss, I followed him through a dizzying maze of white hallways, until we arrived at a man on a stretcher. His face was ghostly pale, and although I wasn’t exactly sure what the defibrillators the doctors were holding did, I knew they weren’t omens of good news.
“Do something!” the doctor urged me.
I looked down at the man on the verge of death, my mind racing. To receive my semicha, I’d been tested thoroughly on melicha, but how would knowing how to salt a chicken help this poor man? All I knew was that a Jew should recite the most important, fundamental prayer before passing. I recited Shema loudly and with fervent concentration.
“His daughter is waiting there,” the doctor pointed out to me. “Go speak with her.”
I was a newborn rabbi without any experience at all. What could I say to her? Knowing how the Rebbe emphasized positivity, I spoke with her about the journey of the neshama, and how mitzvos help our neshama connect with Hashem. I hardly knew what I was saying, or why I was saying it!
