He’d always return from work with stories about how he’d put tefillin on one person, gave a mezuzah to another, or gifted an associate with a Jewish book. So, although I grew up in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, I was deeply influenced by the shlichus mindset so embodied by my parents.
As a young student, I got an “up close and personal” look at shlichus by volunteering and assisting shluchim the world over, including Israel, the United States, and Ukraine. This only strengthened my resolve to become a shliach myself. When I started looking into potential shidduchim, shlichus was make-or-break.
Luckily, my wife had similarly strong feelings about shlichus. Her grandfather, the famous chassid Rabbi Moshe Nisselevitch, (also known as “Reb Moshe der Geller”) was instrumental in running underground chedarim, yeshivos, and mikvaos in Samarkand, part of the former Soviet Union. Rabbi Eliezer Nisilevitch, carried this legacy by investing in Jewish education after moving to France. Right after their marriage, her mother became the principal of a school at just 18 years old! The talent for chinuch clearly runs in the family, since my wife was asked to take on a particularly challenging class that other teachers hadn’t had success reaching. Despite her young age, she built a deep bond with those girls, and, baruch Hashem, managed to turn them around completely!
We got married in New York, just before Pesach, and my wife suggested we travel to France directly after Yom Tov, so she could finish the school year with her students. So, just two weeks after our wedding, we packed up our brand new household and boarded a flight to Paris. The original plan was to remain in France for the last two months of the school year, and then begin researching shlichus options.
While my wife went back to her classroom, I busied myself with various projects. I joined a French kolel, visiting local businesses on my lunch breaks to find Jews on whom to put on tefillin. I also started a weekly mesibas Shabbos gathering for groups of boys, arranged shiurim, and other “small” projects that soon grew beyond proportion.
When the school year was over, it was time to decide our future. We wrote a letter to the Rebbe, placed it in a volume of Igros Kodesh, and opened a random page to read the Rebbe’s response. The letter, filled with encouragement, mentioned “France” and “Paris” specifically, and the Rebbe commented how pleased he was with the great work being done, and how it must be “continued with joy.”
It seemed clear the Rebbe wanted us to stay in Paris. It was a difficult adjustment for me, a thorough American. I didn’t speak the language, and the culture was totally different! For me, a Smart car was simply a cute, delightful finding to snap a picture of, not the pragmatic vehicle it was for so many Europeans, who had to contend with narrow streets and limited parking. (Ironically, on my most recent trip to New York, I found the massive trucks and SUVs far more diverting, and I snapped a bunch of pictures to show people back in France.)
Louis’* mother was Jewish; his father was not. For X-mas, Louis asked for, and received, a mezuzah. Once it was affixed on his door, it became a catalyst for much more. When Louis came across our Facebook page, he was immediately interested and enrolled in our school. His mother expressed interest in discovering more about her heritage, as well.
The importance of a Jewish education is something my father-in-law, Rabbi Eliezer Niselevitch, founder and director of Les Institutions Shneor, is adamant about. He still remembers being forced to attend a Communist public school, and the secret underground yeshiva, operating with immense mesiras nefesh, which was sometimes housed in his basement.
After a slew of anti-Semitic attacks, targeting various Jewish institutions around France, my father-in-law decided to make a concerted effort to enroll every Jewish child in a Jewish school. Those who know him are aware of his unstoppable determination, which allows no obstacle to stand in his way. He fundraised enough to provide transportation and full-ride scholarships for those who couldn’t afford the tuition. He was the backbone of the project, and oversaw every detail.
He offered one of those scholarships to Claire*, a high school student.
“She’s almost finished school, and she’s fine where she is,” her mother refused. “Give it to someone who really needs it.”
My father-in-law refused to be put off, and he insisted Claire take the spot. My wife added her entreaties to his, promising we’d provide transportation to and from school. To no one’s surprise, they won, and Claire attended Les Institutions Shneor for her final years of high school. She did really well, and her entire family was affected by her newfound Jewish education. She went on to attend seminary in Israel, and is now married to a Chabad bochur. They operate a Chabad house for French speakers in Netanya.
Recently, with the stress of the war and the financial hardships that came in its wake, Chana, as she is now called, felt that the challenges surrounding her were insurmountable. She was contemplating ending her shlichus and returning home to France, where it would be easier.
That night, she dreamed of my in-laws and my wife’s grandmother. My father-in-law pointed at her and exclaimed, “This is our pride! This is Shneor’s pride!”
Chana woke up with a start. She was Shneor’s pride! Of course she could withstand the challenges! The obvious nachas shining from the faces in her dream gave her the spurt of energy she needed to persevere.
She started her own Torah Cafe in Netanya, helping other women gain the empowerment they need to survive these difficult times.
