When I was just five years old, my father and grandfather thought it was time for me to experience a Tishrei with the Rebbe. Since many chassidim had the same idea, not everyone was able to meet privately with the Rebbe in yechidus. That privilege was granted only to a select few, whose names were drawn in a raffle. Baruch Hashem, my father and I were lucky enough to be chosen!
After speaking with my father, the Rebbe asked me some questions. Was I in school? Did I know Yiddish? What was I learning?
I answered the Rebbe’s questions with assurance, but hesitated at the last one. My class had just finished learning Parshas Noach. In fact, in anticipation of my upcoming trip, the Rebbi had made a special point of marking the parsha’s completion and celebrating with a siyum. I couldn’t say I was learning Noach, because my Rebbi had already said we were finished. But we also hadn’t started Lech Lecha yet, so I couldn’t use that for my answer either. I finally decided “Lech Lecha” was the more honest answer.
Then, the Rebbe, with a twinkle in his eye, asked me to teitch the words “lech lecha.” Since I was ignorant of Rashi’s commentary on that phrase, I had to use my own understanding. “Gei arois,” I answered. “Go out.”
The Rebbe smiled widely and gave me a bracha.
Although I’ve since learned Rashi’s preferred translation, I feel the Rebbe’s reaction to my own improvised meaning has given me my mission in life - to “go out” of my comfort zone and travel to strange places to spread Yiddishkeit.
I was thrown into the “deep end” of shlichus, even as a bochur. I was assigned to the yeshiva in New Haven, and part of the job was serving as chaplain for New Haven University. After that, I went to a yeshiva in London, and then New Delhi on Merkos shlichus. The closest shluchim were in Hong Kong and Thailand, so we were pretty much on our own. That’s where I learned what being the Rebbe’s shliach really means, and just how much mesiras nefesh the role truly demands.
After we got married, we settled near my in-laws. My father-in-law, the famous shliach, Rabbi Aryeh Leib Kaplan, opened Tzeirei Hashluchim, a yeshiva for shluchim’s children in Tzefas. I ran the yeshiva, but we also wanted a “traditional” Chabad house, so we moved to Rosh Pina, a neighboring town, assisting the shliach there.
Although Rosh Pina was initially a very secular society, over time, it transformed into a beautifully flourishing Torah community. After almost 20 years on shlichus, we were able to reflect on our efforts with nachas. It was then that Hashem threw a curveball into our lives. I was diagnosed with cancer, and had to stay in Florida for extended treatments.
Baruch Hashem, I recovered completely, and we were able to move back to Eretz Yisrael. My wife and I agreed that this was our “Lech Lecha” moment, pushing us to use the setback as a springboard for growth. Looking to “go out” of our comfort zone, we moved to the Golan Heights and began our shlichus anew.
The Golan Heights is a mountainous area with a few scattered, isolated kibbutzim and yeshuvim. They are small and selective; anyone who wants to move to one of their communities must first be approved by a committee. Obviously, a charedi family wasn’t high on their lists, so it took a lot of effort to receive permission to move there.
The Golan attracts farmers who are eager for a challenge, and who have the stamina and personality to weather whatever the harsher climate and soil have to throw at them. They are hardy, no-nonsense type of people; brusque and suspicious of strangers.
There are also a lot of army bases around, so we became more heavily involved in assisting soldiers with programs, kosher food, and tefillin.
When we moved, our neighbor turned the entire town against us with an incendiary Facebook post. The comments were filled with vitriol against Chabad and all charedi Jews.
We were undeterred. This was our Lech Lecha. Being comfortable and welcome was never part of our expectations.
It took a long time, and a lot of work, but very slowly, we won people over. We showed them we weren’t there to “brainwash” them and turn them into charedi robots, as the Facebook post had claimed. We were there to help.
They saw how much we helped the soldiers, and how eager we were to jump into any community effort. We opened a medical equipment gemach, brought in food trucks, and supported the poor.
It’s been a long, hard road, but the Purim seuda this year was held in the town center and was well-attended by over 120 people!
Rabbi Sholom Ber and Devora Hertzel, Chabad of the Golan Heights, Israel
