This week I mark 20 years since one of the greatest times of my life, which I hope and believe I'll never forget.
It was just two months before my Bar Mitzvah, when my father told me that I would be joining him to Brooklyn, New York, to get the blessing of our beloved Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, OBM, and be inspired in his presence before this milestone in my life.
The Rebbe was a leader of the Jewish world, who influenced my life growing up, more than any other spiritual leader in the past or present. My parents renewed the Chabad community in Tzfat by his direct mission, consulted with him and were inspired by his teachings with every step in their lives. He showed us the way to serve our creator and inspired us to follow the mitzvot and to bring the light and warmth of Judaism anywhere we can reach.
The thought of going to see the Rebbe brought a special energy that is difficult to describe. I remember having a hard time falling asleep many nights before our trip.
Every moment with the Rebbe was special, but there is one memory that I'd like to share with you, a moment that made a deep impression on me as a child, and which I hope will guide me for the rest of my life.
A long line of thousands of men and women wove around tables in the great synagogue and outside to the famous Eastern Parkway waiting to see the Rebbe. The Rebbe, who was just about to turn 90, would stand every Sunday morning next to his office to see every person who wanted to get his blessing or advice, and would give them a dollar to give to charity. He would go for 6-7 hours or more with no break. The young men and women who stood in the long line, as well as the secretaries who stood beside him, would get tired and anxious, but the Rebbe accepted each person with a grace and a smile, giving them the time they needed and making them feel like there was nothing greater than seeing them.
After these long hours, when it seemed like the line had finally ended, you would see some people running in through the doorway to catch the last moments before it would be too late... Finally, when it seemed like there were no more people, I remember very vividly the following scene:
While his staff were packing up and ready to finally go, hoping to give the Rebbe - who hadn’t eaten anything since the morning - a few moments of rest, before someone else would jump in, the Rebbe didn’t seem rushed at all; he turned his head time and again to the doorway leading to his room to see if perhaps there was somebody else there—maybe someone would still come in. This head-turning after standing for many hours, searching for yet another person, was shocking to me. After all this time, the line was over, why couldn't he just get on his way? But this was the Rebbe; there was nothing that was more precious to him than seeing another Jewish man or woman who was seeking his blessing and advice.
At that visit, I had the great honour of attending a special meeting for all Bar-Mitzvah boys and Bat Mitzvah girls with the Rebbe, getting his blessing for our great day. That day, twenty years ago from this week, was the last time the gathering took place. One month later, the Rebbe suffered a stroke, and two years later - in June of 1994 - he left his Chassidim orphans and the Jewish world mourning with his sad passing.
Last month my brother gave me a special gift. He found a picture from that gathering where you can see the Rebbe speaking to us. On the left you can see me at one of the most precious moments of my life.
With your permission, I'd like make an exception and write about some items in the news, which may have not attracted your attention, and I think that they deserve a blog.
Last week, a few terrorists were caught in Azerbaijan by the local police days before they were supposed to execute their plan of killing, G-d forbid, two Chabad Rabbis who ran the Jewish day school of Baku and the Israeli Ambassador to the country. This came only weeks after Israeli intelligence, with the cooperation of the local security agencies, foiled the plan of attacking synagogues and the Israeli embassy in Bangkok, Thailand at the very last minute.
As a nation, we owe our deep appreciation to the men and women of the security forces in these countries for saving us from horrific tragedies that could have stricken our people.
After the heartbreaking attacks in the past, we have been "upset" with G-d, and very rightly so, for not protecting the innocent who have lost their lives for the crime of being Jewish. Shouldn't we, on days like this, thank Him for the divine intervention in tracking down these murderers shortly before proceeding with their dreadful plans? Would it be right to just "blame" G-d for the horrors?
Hodu l’Hashem ki tov ki l’olam chasdo! Offer thanks to G-d for He is good, for His kindness is everlasting!
Our daughter Rivky came to me this week with yet another book she was writing and illustrating.... While looking through the pages, I realized that one of the pages was wrinkled. Here is Rivky's explanation:
“After cutting the pages for my new book, and stapling it together, I spilled by mistake a cup of water on the table, which wetted that page, so I decided to turn it into a ‘Touch and Feel’ book, and that page will talk about water that was spilled”.
Children are sometimes our best teachers. What a beautiful lesson of how to turn our errors and failures into advantages! We all spill every once in a while. We can be upset about it, or we can have the wisdom to turn it into another beautiful page in the magnificent book of our lives.
Don't cry on milk that you spilled. Turn it into joy!
Mr. Max Gross is our senior Shul attendee. He is very popular with the adults, but even more so among the children. Max gives out sweets to the children who come to Shul on Shabbat morning, he always does it with his “Zeidy” smile and pinch on the cheek, "the candy man" is how they call him lovingly. The excitement that he brings to the children is evident from the following story with our son Mendel.
About a month ago, we had some work that had to be done in our house, so I called a "handy Man". I told the children that he would be in our home momentarily. To my surprise Mendel was jumping from excitement, "the Candy Man is coming" he shouted...
Max has been coming to Shul from the very beginning, when we had services in our home over seven years ago. Since then he very rarely missed a Shabbat. At this point I can't imagine our Shul without him, his gracious words, kindness and happy spirit enriches our Shul greatly. I wish him, Marjory and the children many more years of health, joy and Nachas.
What brought me to writing about this dear friend, is the comment he told me before leaving Shul last Shabbat, as he gave me his usual warm handshake "I enjoy so much coming to this Shul”, he said. “This is the very best thing in my retirement life".
I am so thankful to Max for expressing his positive feelings about our Shul, and I’m sharing it today, perhaps someone could benefit from Max's insight...
Like the rest of the Jewish and general community, I am still shocked and pained by the terrible desecration at the Jewish cemetery in Victoria. Last weekend, headstones were defiled with swastikas and graffiti against Jews. Let’s be very clear about it.
Making a trip in the middle of the night to a Jewish cemetery and painting swastikas on headstones is not vandalism—it is pure anti-Semitism.
The haters who came in the dark to paint Nazi symbols in a Jewish cemetery knew precisely what swastikas are and this is the reason they sprayed it in a Jewish sacred place. It does not matter if it was youngsters or older people; this came from hate of the Jewish people in its ugliest form. Let’s not bury our heads in the sand; this is part of the world-wide anti-Semitism that is very real.
My Faith is a matter of public record. As a rabbi in the community, I can say proudly that we live in a city that represents acceptance and respect. I rarely encounter any hate or disrespect from Victoria’s residences. We know that Vancouver Island is a safe place for people of all faiths. However, when hatred surfaces, all people need to stand together and say in a clear voice: there is no place for Jew haters or any other hatred in our society!
The answer to this incident is not with hate but with love—love for Judaism. These kinds of events require us to increase in our Jewish pride and knowledge and to be messengers of a loving Judaism, which brings to a world of goodness, kindness and peace.
I’d like to write today about a special woman I had the merit to meet and know. She represented, in the fullest way, the beauty of a Jewish mother and grandmother. I’m talking about Chani’s bubby, Mrs. Gita Ceitlin, who passed away last week in Montreal.
It’s impossible to summarize the eighty eight years of her life, from being born in communist Russia, to raising a beautiful family in Canada. I’ll share with you one episode that occurred just days before her passing, which perhaps demonstrates the values she lived by and instilled in her children and grandchildren.
Mrs. Ceitlin had great difficulty breathing even with her respirator. As a result, she was taken into the ICU of a Montreal Hospital on Friday afternoon. While in the hospital unit, she indicated to her daughter to come close, pointing at a woman who just came in, as she would like to say something. “She looks Jewish,” she said, “can you go speak to her?” Chani's aunt wasn’t too keen on going after this patient, but her mother insisted. “You should tell her about Shabbat candles,” she said in a very low voice. After her daughter completed her mission, she had some additional instructions: “Please go to my room,” she requested, “and get a Jewish calendar to give her, so she'll know the appropriate time to light candles every Friday”...
To go beyond yourself in times of such weakness and pain, to think about light you can bring to another when your world is glooming, is a great virtue; however, that attention to the fine details, to confirm that it will be done in the ideal way – I believe this describes the character of bubby. She didn’t only always want to do the right thing; she wanted to do it perfectly. I believe she passed this quality on to her future generations...
Mrs. Ceitlin was a very small lady, and one of the most humble people you would ever meet. Even at the weddings of her grandchildren, she would be found sitting quietly in the corner, with a shy smile... She stayed away from any attention or Kovod. I know she wouldn’t approve of me writing her praise, yet if she knew that this incident might inspire somebody, I’m sure she'd be pleased to give up even her humility for the sake of bringing more light to another...
May she rest in peace and may her memory be a blessing for her entire family.
Just as last year, this Chanukah we have organized Menorah Lightings in cities across Vancouver Island and the Golf Islands. It was only after I left the Menorah lighting in Nanaimo City Hall that I came to this realization.
I thought about the conversations I just had with the wonderful group of people that we met at the ceremony, some for the first time.
One couple who is expecting a baby boy, asked about a Bris. Another family inquired about a baby naming for their new granddaughter. We discussed Bar Mitzvah lessons over Skype for a young boy. There was a young woman, whose father was Jewish and wanted to convert in accordance to Jewish law. Then a family whose grandmother fell ill and asked about arrangements for a proper Jewish burial.
Here we are, more than two thousands years after the Syrian Greeks contaminated the Menorah and thought to bring an end to Jewish practice, and now, all of us, no matter where we live and what kind of "label" we may attach to ourselves, are still so committed to our faith and observance. The Menorah is standing tall and shining bright!
About a year ago, a generous member of the community started to sponsor the printing of the "Think Jewish" weekly magazine for Victoria. The pamphlet is read every week by people who attend Shabbat services, by the weekly recipients of the Light of Shabbat boxes, and by many who come through the doors of Chabad Centre during the week. The feedback has been amazing. Readers seem to take pleasure in it immensely, and some make sure to drop by the Shul during the week to pick-up their own copy. I didn’t know the degree of the impact of this brochure, until I received a letter this week from a Jewish inmate in a prison in Agassiz, BC.
"Shalom Aleichem,
I am one of several Jewish persons serving time at Mountain Institution. Every so often when Cantor Soosman can come here one of the things he blesses us with is the odd copies of your weekly “Think Jewish” publication. This past week he brought us a few. However, it is not a regular thing to get them and I find them very helpful and a blessing. For one thing being absent from my Jewish roots for so long it allows me to remember traditions and aspects of Judaism that are sometimes only faint in my mind until my memory is jogged by your insightful publication. It reminds me what I love about being Jewish and G-d in a place like this it is very important. It also has helped in making celebrating our Holidays more meaningful and to remember that following my faith is a day to day, hour by hour, minute by minute proposition.
To that end, I wonder if it is possible to ask to receive it on a weekly basis. Perhaps you could even send me two of them and I will ensure they are passed around to the other men. Unless, it is better for them to each write you themselves. I thank you for your consideration and look forward to receiving them. The most recent one’s I have is June 3, 2011 and September 16, and 23, 2011.
Blessings. Todah rabbah".
The sincerity of this note really touched my heart and I was so amazed to see how an act of kindness travels... Since the pamphlet comes here too soon to Shabbat to send it back on time to Agassiz, we have immediately made a special order to be sent to these thirsty souls in this difficult place.
I would like to end this blog with a request, as year 2011 comes to an end:
If you think that the work done by Chabad of Vancouver Island, on behalf of Jewish people on our Island and beyond, is a worthy cause, please consider - before the end of the tax year - to participate in this effort with a tax deductible donation. Please know that Chabad of Vancouver Island is not funded by any head office and the funds for its activities are raised only locally, from generous people in our community, such as you.
Donations can be made online here, or you can call me directly at 250-858-6770. Thank you!
December 2003. Our first Chanukah in Victoria, Chani, planned a women's and girls' evening of making Sufganiyot (Chanukah doughnuts). Hours before the event the phone was ringing, "can men come too?"
"It is really an event for women" I said "but if you are very interested perhaps we can work something out"...
"I'll tell you the truth", he said. "I'm not so interested in making a doughnut, as I am in eating one... I'm an Israeli student studying in a college in Manitoba; I decided to take the bus on winter break back west, to get a bit warmer.... When I arrived at the motel and checked the local newspaper, I saw you are hosting this Sufganiyot making evening, growing up in Israel I was just 'dying' to have one..."
Later that evening the young man was in our home. He didn’t only have a doughnut, he lit a Menorah, sang songs and we had a wonderful Chanukah together. "You know what" he said "I think it wasn't the doughnut that I was craving; it was to the feeling of home I was longing for, to be back with my people... I never knew I would miss it so badly. I thought I came back west because I was physically cold, I was wrong. It was my soul who needed to warm up..."
Walking on Fort Street 5 years later, a car stopped next to me, "Shabbat Shalom!" the man said, I turned my head and I immediately recognized him. "Are you the student from Manitoba who came to us on Chanukah?" he was shocked "Are you the Rabbi who I spent that night with?"....
We have kept in touch since, many times he tells me that Chanukah evening reminded him that you can never run away from yourself, you can never escape your soul.
Do you have any better example of "the way to a man's (Jewish) heart is through his stomach"?...
I want to write to you about the conference of Chabad Rabbis which I return from this week - but I can't find the words which will describe even close to what it is; I wish to describe to you the energy in pier 12 in Brooklyn when thousands of Rabbis celebrate together – and I simply can’t; I wish to express the emotion of seeing the dream of the Rebbe come true - but I don't know how to convey it adequately.
Please watch for yourself, one of the highlights of the Kinus this year, the address by Chief Rabbi of the British Commonwealth Dr. Jonathan Sacks at the banquet of the convention:
I'm writing to you today from the Brooklyn Marriott, where some 3,000 Chabad Rabbis came together for the International conference of Shluchim. Please allow me to share with you a personal story.
As you know many of the Chabad Rabbis live in remote places where there are no Jewish schools to provide the education they desire for their children and they need to send them far from home at tender ages to attend school.
Fifteen years ago at this conference, fathers of these children shared their wish that a Yeshivah High School with a dormitory should open to accommodate these children.
My father, who was at the time directing educational institutions with many hundreds of children, offered immediately to start this school in the city of Tzfat in Israel. The following September the school opened, and children came from every continent to take part in this new school.
Great staff have been hired to run the school, including my older brother Chaim who was just 22 when he became the teacher of advanced Talmudic studies. The year went by very well in every aspect, until one spring day in May of 1998, my father, Rabbi Aryeh Leib Kaplan, was tragically killed in a car accident in Russia on his way to participate in the opening of a new Jewish Centre which he was instrumental in its' establishment.
The family and the community were in great shock. My father who was 50 years old was the pillar of the community and the future of his work became unknown.
Still while in Shivah, my brother accepted the family request to be the successor of my father in leading the community and directing over a dozen educational institutions and outreach organizations.
Since then, every visit to Tzfat, I’ve been amazed to see how Chaim managed not only to maintain the work and direct the different projects, but to bring them to new heights with new initiatives attracting new crowds from all dimensions from the entire country.
It is my privilege and honour that my brother will be speaking this Tuesday for the Appreciation Event for the volunteers of the Light of Shabbat project. I urge you to come to pay tribute to the volunteers in our community and to hear words of inspiration from my older brother who had the courage to answer the call to continue our father's legacy in the holy city of Tzfat.
Last Friday afternoon, while rushing down the grocery aisles doing last-minute shopping before Shabbat, a man came towards me. "That's you, Rabbi,” he said.
It was Edward, a retired Jewish man who I met over five years ago when he wanted to donate his used car. We then got to spend some time together and created a friendship.
Though I was in a real rush, I was very happy to see him." How have you been?" I asked. "We haven’t heard from you in a while..."
"Oh," Edward said, "you probably won’t meet me anywhere other than in grocery stores. I’m really not interested in religion…it's not my thing."
"That's fine. I'm happy to see you. How is the family?" I asked.
"They are all fine, thank you. And by the way, do you remember my son who I was so concern about?" he continued. "I was so happy when he told me that he put mezuzahs in his house. It was a real nachas! I couldn't believe it!"
"I guess I'm just like you," I told Edward. "I'm not interested in religion; it’s a waste of time. But 'Yidishkeit,' that's something else... there is no nachas to a Jew without that."
Last week, as of every year on Sukkot, we traveled with a “sukkah mobile” to visit Jews across Vancouver Island. Only yesterday did I realize the significance of one meeting we had in Comox at the end of a long day.
When we arrived in Comox, a small group met us to celebrate the holiday on that beautiful day. One of the people mentioned that Mike, a Jewish elderly man who lives close by, was planning to come but wasn’t well enough to get out.
I offered to go to his house with the sukkah to bring the festivity to his home. We confirmed on the phone that he would be ready to see us in a few short minutes.
When Mike (in the picture) came out and saw the sukkah in the driveway of his house, he got very emotional. "Though I grew up with all of this, I haven’t practiced it for many, many years." As he held the lulav and began to say the bracha, he broke out in tears...
I've often experienced emotional reactions to the “Sukkah Mobile” visits, including earlier that day, when an Israeli couple met us in Cowichan Bay "by accident," and was amazed to celebrate Sukkot in the middle of “nowhere”, but this was something else.
Mike was grateful for our visit in an extraordinary way. "I can't thank you enough,” he said, “it made it my happiest day in a long, long time".
Yesterday I was informed that Mike just passed away.
Traveling with the sukkah across the Island was well worth it, if only to visit Mike, do a mitzvah with him, share some moments of joy, and reconnect him with his roots days before his soul returned to his creator.
Simchat Torah is a joyous day, the highlight of the entire season in the Jewish calendar. This year, the joy is above and beyond around the world due to the release of the Israeli soldier, Gilad Shalit. In addition, this year on Vancouver Island we will be celebrating history.
Simchat Torah is a day when we complete the yearly cycle of the reading of the torah. We start from Bereshit and on this day we meet the other end of the torah scroll.
This year, we mark a milestone. For the first time, we read every parshah in the Torah with a minyan in our shul.
This is the first time in many decades that the entire torah has been read in the yearly cycle on Vancouver Island; it's a historical event.
Please join us for a great celebration of dance and joy, tomorrow, from 5:00pm and on at Chabad Family Shul.
Every year, the joy at Chabad rides high and we will need to outdo it this year.....
I have known David since he arrived in Victoria. I would meet him at events in the community and we would bump into each other on the street many times. But I got to hear David’s story only when I came to visit him in the hospital a few weeks ago.
"My father, Samuel Reisman, was, and will always be, my hero. During the holocaust, he saved the lives of hundreds of Jewish children in Brussels from the hands of the Nazis. The day after my first birthday, he was taken to a concentration camp. I got to see him when he returned home after the liberation, but all his family had perished."
When I hear of families’ horror stories from the holocaust, I naturally inquire about the surviving members. David told me of his late sister, who recently passed away from a terminal illness. Then he added with sadness, "She had three children, but unfortunately they abandoned me. Though I feel very close to them, I haven’t heard from them in many years. They just run a busy life and I think I was a bit forgotten."
"Do you mind telling me their names?" I asked. Sitting with my iPhone, I quickly searched on Facebook for one of them, Vincent, a pilot in the US Air Force, and instantly confirmed with David that the man in the pictures posted is indeed his nephew. David couldn't believe how quickly his lost family was found! He browsed slowly through the pictures, seeing the growth of the family since they last met. I quickly messaged his nephew, sharing with him his uncle’s health situation and asked him kindly to get back to me.
Last week I arrived at David's bedside with his nephew on the line. David was in tears when he heard Vincent’s voice. They had a wonderful, flowing conversation. David looked better than I've ever seen since he was admitted to the hospital. They exchanged contact information and promised to keep in touch.
It felt very good to bring joy to David at this difficult time. It was very rewarding to take part in ensuring that the link of the generations and the story of the family and Davis's father will be passed to future generations. Who knows, perhaps this legacy will encourage the grandchildren to reconnect with their roots with pride and dignity.
Rest in peace Steve Jobs. Your inventions are making mitzvahs more accessible than ever before. Your iphone is in the service of G-d.
When Mike (in the picture) came out and saw the sukkah in the driveway of his house, he got very emotional. "Though I grew up with all of this, I haven’t practiced it for many, many years." As he held the lulav and began to say the bracha, he broke out in tears...
