I remember, as a first grader, when my principal asked our class what we wanted to be when we grew up. Rather than the expected answers of “policeman” or “fireman,” I, along with many of my classmates, proudly answered, “A shliach!”
Our lives were filled with mivtzoyim, and learning the Rebbe’s sichos where he spoke so fervently about the importance of being a light unto others.
So, from the get go, we agreed our dream would be to build a Chabad house.
Baruch Hashem, most cities with sizable Jewish populations already have a shliach. When we heard about Morgan Hill, it came with the caveat that other couples had looked into it, and decided there weren’t enough Jews to make it sustainable. After careful consideration, we decided to move to Morgan Hill, just outside of San Jose, despite the risk.
Morgan Hill, and its neighboring town, Gilroy, are “bedroom towns.” Many of the people who live here work in large tech companies in nearby Silicon Valley, returning home just to eat dinner and rest. It’s hard to meet them at their places of work, since these large tech companies are heavily secured and don’t easily allow visitors. We’re happy to remain at the cutting “edge” of technology, helping them and their families connect to their Judaism in our “bedroom” town.
Living in a small community has its challenges, but we’ve also found that people want to be more involved. It’s a quiet, sleepy town, so people are excited to join a community, make friends, and have something to do on the weekends. While our numbers may always remain small, we can engage a large percentage of Jews in our area.
We had a couple of Merkos bochurim visit us before Pesach to help us deliver matzah door to door and see if they could discover any more Jews we hadn’t yet met. They returned, excited to tell us about Jennifer*, a young Jewish mom of two kids, who they’d met while knocking on doors.
My wife and I went to visit Jennifer a couple of weeks later, bringing along freshly baked challah as a gift. We were thrilled to meet another three Jews, and expected to find the same reaction from her, as we’d experienced with almost every other person we’d met in the past. We’d found the people of Morgan Hill to fit the stereotype of small-town friendliness and exuberance, only too happy to connect with a community.
We expected Jennifer to invite us inside, have a chat, introduce us to her children, and form a friendship. Instead, she stood in the doorway, her hands folded across her chest. When we offered her the challah, she thanked us perfunctorily and moved to close the door. We asked her for her contact information, but she declined to give it to us.
“No offense, Rabbi,” she finally said, “But I’m not interested in Judaism. Yes, I’m Jewish, but my husband is Catholic, and we’ve decided to raise our children non-denominational. I see no reason to expose them to religion of any kind right now. When they’re older, they can decide for themselves. I know something about Judaism from my childhood, so believe me when I tell you that I’ve left all that behind, and I’m simply not interested.”
Disappointed, we said our goodbyes and left. We continued to visit her every so often, bringing her a menorah on Chanukah, mishloach manos on Purim, and matzah for Pesach. Every time, she thanked us politely, but succinctly took the package and closed the door.
This year, I visited her once again before Rosh Hashanah to bring her a small honey cake and a cheerful Shana Tova card. I received the same aloof reception she’d given for the past two years.
A few days later, after Rosh Hashanah, I received a call from an unknown number.
“Hello, Chabad of Morgan Hill,” I said as I answered.
“Hi!” the caller gushed. “I have to tell you, I was so excited to see the Chabad house! I just drove past, but there wasn’t anyone in. It’s such a beautiful building! Do you think we can meet sometime?”
“Uh... sure,” I answered. “May I ask who’s calling?”
“It’s Jennifer!” she chirped. “Remember, the lady you gave the honey cake to a few days ago?”
My mind whirled. Almost everyone to whom I’d given a honey cake had come to shul on Rosh Hashanah. Who was Jennifer? It couldn’t be the woman who’d been so indifferent about Yiddishkeit these past few years. This woman was positively enthusiastic about it!
“It’s great to hear from you!” I answered, trying to match her energy despite my confusion. “How was your holiday?”
“I have the craziest story to tell you, Rabbi,” she said. “My husband and I both work in the public safety sector. Recently, my husband was given an assignment to sweep the San Jose airport and make sure it was safe before the arrival of a V.I.P.. Prime Minister Netanyahu was coming to meet with Elon Musk. We knew he’d be joined by a large delegation, so we decided to throw a nice reception for them, to welcome them to San Jose.
“As it was the day after Rosh Hashanah, and most of the delegation were important Israeli officials, we wanted to honor the holiday and their faith. Of course, we had coffee, cakes, and drinks, but we wanted something reminiscent of Rosh Hashanah. That’s when I remembered your honey cake! It was the centerpiece of the refreshment table, alongside a card reading Shana Tova!
“The delegation absolutely loved it. They kept praising us for our thoughtfulness and inclusivity. It was such a great experience!
“When I got home, I started thinking about the whole thing. I’d been so excited to hear a large Israeli group was coming, and thrilled to have even a little part in welcoming them to town. But why? Why was I so excited about a group of strangers? I realized I felt connected to them simply because of our shared Jewish heritage. That’s all I needed. Judaism had meant so little to me for so many years, but the arrival of the Israelis woke up an affection I never dreamt I still possessed!
“But what about my kids? If I kept them away from Judaism, I’d quash any chance of them developing this innate joy! I was robbing them of the chance to be connected to their people; their family. I realized I’d made a terrible mistake.
“That’s why I’d like to meet with you, Rabbi. I have pictures of the reception I’d love to show you, and I’d like to talk about exploring my connection with Judaism.”
