One Jew at a Time: A Menorah at an Empty Mall

Last weekend, I attended the annual Conference for Shluchim, where over 3000 Chabad Rabbis from around the world gathered in NY for four days of networking and inspiration. Each year, I return from this conference with a renewed sense of pride in what Chabad has accomplished in communities from Vietnam to Beijing and on hundreds of college campuses. Spending these precious days with friends and colleagues gives me renewed energy for my work on the North Shore.

Flying home Sunday night, I decided to re-commit myself to sending out a weekly email with a message from the week's Torah portion. Today, however, I would like to share with you a story I heard at the conference, a story that I hope will touch you as it did me.

Rabbi Moshe Bryski is a dynamic Chabad Rabbi in Agoura Hills, CA.

Several years ago, he brought in a few young Rabbinic interns to help him out for Rosh Hashanah. Arriving home from Shul, they saw a moving truck pull up next door to their rented apartment. Noticing that the name of the company was "Nice Jewish Boys Moving," they decided to invite the movers inside for Shabbat lunch. They were enjoying a spirited meal with these Israeli movers when they noticed the owner of the home arriving. The movers hurried back to work and one young Rabbi asked the new neighbors if they might like to join them for Shabbat. Sure enough, the father and his daughter of 8 were happy to enjoy a Shabbat lunch after a long day of moving. Rabbi Bryski joined them for Havdalah and the father told him how before moving, he prayed to G-d to send him a sign that this was indeed the right place to bring up his daughter. "I never realized G-d would send the sign within minutes of our move," he told Rabbi Bryski.

Over the next few months, the man began to attend classes at Chabad and signed up for the JLI course, entitled "Faith and Suffering." He cried through the first few classes and eventually told Rabbi Bryski a painful piece of his story. Two years before moving to Agoura, he had lost two of his three children in a tragic car crash. His marriage fell apart and he considered suicide. He decided to take his surviving child out for the evening and then return home and end his life. She wanted to go to the movies and they chose a movie theater near their home in Simi Valley. When the movie was over, they left the theater and were shocked to find a Chassidic festival going on outside. It was the fourth night of Chanukah and some Rabbis had set up music and a huge Menorah. He and his daughter were schlepped into the dancing and enjoyed hot latkes. He told Rabbi Bryski that "With each dance, he heard the Menorah speaking to him, telling him that there will yet be joy, that light always triumphs over darkness." He returned home inspired and decided right then to move to a new community and begin again.

Rabbi Bryski told the story with tears in his eyes. He said that after the man told him this story, he was reminded about that night in Simi Valley. "You see," he said, "we were the ones at the mall that night. The Rebbe had encouraged us to expand our Chanukah activities that year and we were looking for a new mall in which to set up a Menorah. I did not know anything about Simi Valley but I found it on a map and called information to ask for the number of the mall. When the operator asked which mall I wanted, I was silent, not knowing how to respond. She gave me the first mall listed, which was Mountaingate Mall. When I called the mall to arrange the event, the woman asked me if I was sure I wanted that mall. When we arrived, I understood why she had asked. The mall was deserted; every store had closed except the movie theater. Since we had already brought everything, we stayed, and set ourselves up outside the theater. Only a handful of people joined us that night and we considered the event a total failure. Little did any of us know that an entire life hung in the balance that night."

This was but one story told last weekend. As we exchanged stories of life in our communities, it became apparent that we shared many of the same blessings and many similar challenges. Life is not the same for a Chabad family in the North Shore and a Chabad family in Africa.

But one recurring theme could be heard from the mouths of every Rabbi.

We were sent to our communities to make a difference in the life of one Jewish family at a time. It's not a numbers game. The Rebbe didn't care about how many children were in your school or how many people came to a lecture. It was always about that one Jew who was searching for something more spiritual, more authentic. And for all of us, the blessings come through building relationships with individuals.

In this season of Thanksgiving, I want to thank each of you for the blessings we have received through you. If you are reading this, you are part of our extended Chabad of the North Shore family, and you are the reason these past 18 years have been so rewarding for me.