IllumiNations
CHABAD SHLUCHIM WORLDWIDE SHARE THEIR STORIES FROM THE FRONTLINES.
It was true. As hard as I looked, I couldn’t find too many options. There were already 600 shluchim in the Kinus photo! I couldn’t imagine how we could add any more to that already impressive number.
I was almost ready to give up the search for shlichus when I heard through a friend that Rabbi Yossi Biston of Chabad of Parkland and North Broward, Florida was looking for someone to open a Chabad house in the Keys. He was looking for an Israeli-American - someone who could relate to both of those key demographics. As someone who was born in America, but made aliyah as a boy, I figured I fit the bill.
We met in Elul of that year, three months before my wedding. Rabbi Biston told me to visit Key West for Rosh Ha-shanah so I could see what it was like for myself. There was a rabbi that drove down to Key West almost every Shabbos to host a minyan in a rented storefront. The minyan had recently ceased, but I was able to get the makeshift shul’s key from someone who still had it. I rented a hotel room nearby, bringing catering from Miami with me.
I walked around the island before heading to Duval Street, the epicenter of the island. Many of the little shops and kiosks were owned by Jews. I extended invitations to everyone I met, and was pleasantly surprised when seventy people showed up for davening on the first day of Yom Tov! Even more showed up for Yom Kippur!
It was a great initial experience that showed me just how much work could be done in the Keys.
The original plan was to visit for Chanukah, which was just 3 weeks after our wedding, and then return to Crown Heights, which would remain our base for the next year or so. We thought we’d visit Key West a few times that year to run minyanim and programs, and otherwise, we’d have the traditional “shana rishona” year in Crown Heights.
When we arrived for Chanukah, we saw how much the community needed us. Somehow, we just never went back.
The owner of the storefront had never rented it to anyone else, so I approached him and negotiated a fair rental contract. That was a simple enough transaction, but when it came to finding a place to live, things were a bit more complicated. It was winter in Florida, so every house was taken by “snowbirds.” The only place we could find was a small studio directly across the street from our rented storefront.
In the past 30 years, our Chabad house, the southernmost in the continental United States, has grown tremendously, baruch Hashem. We have over 100 baalei teshuva, some of whom are now shluchim in their own communities! We received the ultimate nachas when, a half a year ago, our daughter and son-in-law joined us, opening another branch in Key Largo.
Key West has a surprisingly rich Jewish history. It’s home to the oldest Jewish congregation and Jewish cemetery in southern Florida, with ancient gravestones dating back to the 1880s. Jews fleeing persecution in Russia by ship somehow landed on the shores of the Keys. Back then, there were no bridges connecting it to the mainland, so perhaps it made them feel safe in their relative isolation.
Key West became one of the wealthiest cities in Florida due to the many boats shipwrecked on its shores. All the cargo those ships were carrying floated onto the beach (to say nothing of the other precious booty from the crews), where it was gathered by eager locals for resale. The congregation, now Conservative, is still running, and the cemetery can be used as well.
Since we’d moved to Key West so suddenly, most of our furniture and boxes were still in New York. After a couple of months of making do with lawn furniture, we looked into shipping everything down south. We were shocked to learn it would cost $1,200.
At that point, I had $200 – but I was still missing $1,000! I had no idea how we’d get our sefarim, dishes, and brand new furnishings we’d received as wedding presents.
I decided to leave it in Hashem’s more than capable Hands, while I concentrated on things that were within my control. I grabbed my tefillin, and started my usual rounds on Duval Street.
I was just about to walk into the first store, when Amos ran up to me, slightly out of breath. Amos was the owner and manager of a few other stores on Duval Street, and I knew him well. Before I could even greet him, he pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and counted out ten brand new, crisp hundred dollar bills.
“Wha—?” I stammered, taken utterly by surprise. Amos had donated to us before, but he’d never searched for me and voluntarily given me money!
“This isn’t for the shul!” Amos warned me. “Use it on yourself, for something personal!”
“I will!” I said, still amazed. “Thank you! If I can ask – what inspired you?”
“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “I was looking at a picture of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, and I suddenly had an urge to give you $1,000! I can’t really explain it myself.”
