Journeys of the Soul

Throughout Adele and Jack Kaufman’s life, they have repeatedly felt Hashem’s hand guiding them towards Jewish growth and observance. However the ways He has chosen to do so have been comical: their teshuva journey began at a Christian Marriage Encounter weekend, and a major turning point in their life was influenced by an inspirational button.

Adele was raised in a Modern Orthodox home. Her parents attended a local Young Israel synagogue, but she felt that she could not receive satisfying answers to her many questions on Judaism.

“I never received answers,” Adele said. “Now I know I didn’t get answers because they themselves didn’t know.”

Adele grew up, married Jack, and the couple settled on Long Island. They joined a Conservative synagogue and raised a family. They felt like their life was perfect.

“It was a wonderful life. We were very happy. If anyone would have told me we would become Baalei Teshuva, I would have laughed at it,” Adele said.

Though they had a successful marriage, the Kaufmans accepted a friend’s offer to attend a Christian Marriage Encounter Weekend. The weekends, organized by a church, tried to teach couples better communication techniques and other strategies to help them improve their marriages.

The weekend concluded with a Mass service. The Kaufmans and the few other Jewish couples sat in the back of the room and watched the service, feeling greatly out of place.

A few weeks later, a friend suggested they start a Jewish Marriage Encounter weekend. A few couples got together and started one. Adele and Jack went on the Jewish Marriage Enecounter weekend and learned how holy a Jewish marriage is, consisting of husband, wife and Hashem.

Also attending the weekend was a local Chabad couple, who wanted to find out what it was about. Afterwards the Chabad couple offered to start monthly Jewish groups in local homes. Adele and Jack decided to host the groups in their house. In addition to marriage, the classes covered Kashrut, Shabbat and Jewish holidays. Adele was finally getting answers to her questions.

One week the Chabad Rebbetzin asked Adele if she lit candles on Friday night.

“I said no, since I work all week and we go out to eat on Friday night,” Adele said. “The Rebbetzin explained that the mitzvah of lighting candles is not erased by going out to eat. ‘Try lighting candles, and don’t tell me what you do afterwards. Bring in the light and beauty of Shabbat.’”

Adele took her up on her offer and began lighting candles at home. After a few months, she decided to start making Shabbat dinners at home each week.

“I said to my husband, ‘Why go out? Let’s make a Shabbat meal so we can enjoy the beautiful Shabbat candles.”

From there, Adele and Jack began bringing other small observances into their home. For the first time they decided to kasher their home for Passover. Adele made a full-blown Passover Seder in their newly kosher home.

One day, Adele decided that it was time for her husband to start putting on Tefillin each morning. He owned a pair, but did not put them on regularly. So Adele began dropping subtle hints and suggestions to get him to start using them, but she soon saw that it wasn’t working.

“What does a wife do when she wants her husband to do something? She nags. I asked him to put on Tefillin again and again,” Adele said. “Finally he told me to stop nagging. I decided my marriage was more important and so did not mention it anymore.”

Hashem had different plans.

A few days later, a friend called Adele. She had visited Crown Heights for the day, and in a store window saw a sign that read “Buy One Bag Of Buttons, Get The Second Bag Free.” So her friend bought two bags, and was calling to ask Adele if she wanted one.

“I didn’t want to hurt her. I’m not a button person, but I said ‘sure, come over.’”

Adele was in for a surprise when she opened the bag.

“The first button I saw when I opened my bag read ‘Have You Put On Tefillin Today?’”

Adele dropped the button in shock. She could not believe the wording on the button, but now had a dilemma: She had promised her husband that she would no longer nag him, so what to do with the button?

“I said, ‘Hashem what should I do?’ I decided if it doesn’t come out of my mouth, it’s ok,” Adele said. “I decided to put it in his underwear drawer so he would notice it when he showered. I was very nervous. He would either laugh or get upset.

“I was sitting in the kitchen. He went upstairs to shower. The next thing I knew, I heard him laughing so hard.”

The following morning Adele came downstairs for breakfast, and there was her husband, praying and wearing Tefillin. For him it was a major step, one of many more that have come since.

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Michael Gros is the Chief Operating Officer of the outreach organization The Atlanta Scholars Kollel. The Teshuva Journey column chronicles uplifting teshuva journeys and inspiring kiruv tales. Send comments to michaelgros@gmail.com

(Published in The Jewish Press in June 2009)

Growing up in Atlanta, GA, Asher Siegelman was surrounded by the values and culture of America. But he felt that the society was empty and he was disappointed by the ideals around him. He was especially frustrated by the lack of genuine role models he could follow.

“In my senior year of high school, I had realized that I had never really found people I could look up to in a really serious way,” Asher said. “I had always been looking for people who were not only brilliant, but good people. Good men who treated their wives well and had good families. It’s not a model that’s very prevalent in Western civilization.”

The role models that America swoons over – the sports stars, actors and politicians – left Asher wanting. With the rags filled with the daily scandals of these seemingly perfect people, Asher groped in the darkness for someone to rely in, someone to aspire to be like.

“I had seen many people when I was secular whom people looked up to as mentors, who cheated on their wives, were dishonest in business and were crooked individuals. People need someone to look up to, need someone to follow, someone to help them out in life,” Asher said.

Like many Jews searching for answers, Asher traveled to Israel and spent a year studying at Hebrew University. He felt that Judaism could answer some of his questions, and so he immersed himself in his religion. He spent the year learning Hebrew and experiencing Jewish culture, practices and holidays. He also deliberately searched for Jews he could learn from.

He began finding role models throughout Jerusalem, from simple Jews eking out an existence in the Old City to leaders of communities and yeshivas in other neighborhoods. These were all people steeped in their religion and whose moral beliefs pervaded their daily lives. He was impressed by their sensitivity and intelligence and the deep respect they showed to others. These were the role models he had always craved.

The more that Asher got to know such people, the more he realized that their values and convictions came from their religion. Judaism is centered on moral and ethical standards and extols us to be “a light amongst the nations.” As the Talmud writes, “Any Torah sage whose interior is not like his exterior is not a Torah sage” (Yoma 72b). It’s not enough to look pure and upright, but one must have these values at the core of his being.

Asher was introduced to Yeshivat Machon Shlomo in Jerusalem, and spent two years studying there. In the yeshiva and community he met many more brilliant, upstanding Jews.

One of the rabbis at Machon Shlomo left a particularly deep impression on him. Rabbi Meir Triebitz attended the prestigious Juilliard School of Music before receiving a PhD in mathematical physics from Princeton University at age 22. He eventually found his way to Israel where he became a rabbi and Torah scholar.

Meeting brilliant, intellectually honest and observant people such as Rabbi Triebitz helped Asher appreciate the beauty and eternal relevance of Judaism.

“A person like that, with that kind of brain, wouldn’t be falling for something stupid,” Asher said. “I met amazing people. People who had come from the secular world and were at the top in terms of brain power and were religious people, who became religious via free choice. I recognized that this was the best way to live.”

With these experiences, Asher in time became observant. His family had separately become religious, and his brother even moved to Israel and joined him to study at Machon Shlomo.

Asher’s role models also helped him with another challenge for some ba’alei teshuva: for someone not raised learning Torah, it can be intimidating to dive into it.

“Often times people think of the Torah as basically impossible, a closed book. They get frustrated,” Asher said. But seeing others immersed in Torah study can help them relate to it. “It makes you think maybe I can do this. He’s doing it, so maybe I can get to the point where I can have the same kind of energy.”

Throughout Asher’s journey, his role models have had a dramatic impact in helping to shape his direction and life. The relationships he has built and the lessons he has learned from them have left an indelible mark on him. And if there’s one lesson he can impart to other Jews, it’s to take advantage of the amazing Jewish leaders around them.

“I’m very fortunate to be Jewish and been able to access these individuals I have reached. It’s a terrible thing to not be able to,” Asher said. “Many Jews never have the chance to meet these kinds of people.”

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Michael Gros is the Chief Operating Officer of the outreach organization The Atlanta Scholars Kollel. The Teshuva Journey column chronicles uplifting teshuva journeys and inspiring kiruv tales. Send comments to michaelgros@gmail.com

(Published in The Jewish Press in May 2009)

You never know what event will spark a person’s interest to return to Judaism. Art Sherman was an assimilated Jew married to a Polish Catholic woman. He owned a non-kosher Italian hero shop, and an unbelievable comment one day by his Rastafarian employee sent him on a life-changing journey.

After their wedding in 1973, Art and Karen moved from place to place, first to Philadelphia and then to Brooklyn. There, he decided to open a small sandwich store. He made all types of sandwiches, from five different kinds of cheese steaks to Italian hoagies stacked high with ham, pork-salami and provolone cheese. Customers loved the sandwiches and business was great.

Over time, he started noticing specific groups of people who would not eat particular sandwiches. He had lots of Jamaican, Seventh Day Adventist and Muslim customers who said they didn’t eat pork because it was prohibited in the Old Testament.

Art continued to devour his non-kosher sandwiches, but over time he began to sense the irony of his non-Jewish customers attempting to follow religious dietary laws which he ignored completely.

“The Muslims would make me wipe off the slicing machine before I cut roast beef or corned beef for their sandwiches. For myself, I couldn’t care less,” Art said. “I could eat so much pork it would make the Pope sick. I had all these non-Jewish people coming in who had more respect for where I came from than I did.”

One of his employees, who was a Rastafarian, refused to eat meat altogether. He was a vegetarian, because as he told Art, “the Bible forbids the consumption of blood.” Rastafarians take this Biblical statement to prohibit the consumption of any animal flesh.

Art continued to consume away. One day in his store, he had a craving for a huge hoagie, with everything on it.

“I wanted a ‘Marciano’ Italian Hot Ham and Provolone cheese. The sandwich had to have perfect balance. It was my place. I could put on as much meat or cheese as I deemed appropriate. But too much meat, not enough cheese, and the balance would be thrown off. I had to have room for the lettuce, tomatoes, thinly sliced onions, hot peppers, oil and oregano,” Art said. “I was in Alpha concentration. Totally focused on the task at hand when the Rastafarian guy walks up behind me and says in a deep voice, ‘you know Art, you really shouldn’t eat ham.’”

Something about the Rastafarian’s statement caused Art to stop and think about what he was doing.

“I felt like I had been slapped in the face! Shot in the heart! It woke me up,” Art said.
“I knew I really shouldn’t eat ham. I went to Hebrew school. But the last person I expected to call me on it was this guy. What could I say? He was right.”

Art made a commitment at that moment to keep what he called “Arab Kosher.” He decided to stop eating all pork and shellfish products. “It was a big step for me and I was proud to take it.”

Art came home that night and told his wife about his epiphany. She immediately agreed to join him. Although it created tension with her family, Karen remained steadfast in her determination. In the past, every other Jewish activity, such as having a Passover Seder, had seemed to bring them closer together, and this action was no different.

The commitment to cut out pork and shellfish from their lives launched the Shermans on a journey of growth and exploration. Soon, Art closed his store and he and his family moved to his hometown, a small Jewish neighborhood in Margate, outside Atlantic City. Art and Karen, along with their two daughters, began going to a synagogue around the corner from their house, and he and his wife began taking Jewish classes. Over time they began keeping Kosher and took on more mitzvot.

“I felt like there was something really familiar about it,” Karen said. “When the teacher talked about Sinai, I knew clearly that that’s where my soul had been. I finally began to understand the identity of my soul.”

With this newfound realization and excitement, Karen continued learning. She and her daughters eventually converted. Years later Karen learned that several of her ancestors had actually been Jewish.

Art and Karen say they still look back in astonishment at the extraordinary source that launched them on their growth. The one comment from the Rastafarian employee, of all people, sent them on an incredible life journey. But the fact that it came from such an unexpected source was a major reason it had the impact that it did.

“Sometimes you’re all ready to defend yourself from a religious Jew, but you’re not ready to defend yourself against a gentile telling you things that the Rabbis taught,” Art said. “I was like a tank. I was fortified, heavily reinforced from the front for a frontal attack, but my armor was not as thick on the side. When you get hit on the side sometimes, boom, the rounds go through. The Rastafarian caught me in the ribs.”

Hashem has lots of quills in his quiver, of all different types, depending on who He is trying to reach. And you just never know what He will use next.

Today Art Sherman makes Kosher Hoagies while speaking to Jewish Groups about his journey. In early 2009 he will be opening a new kosher meat restaurant in Manalapan, NJ called “Just Good Food!” that will offer hoagies as well as Middle Eastern and Italian dishes. He can be reached at 347-581-4411 or Asher26593@aol.com.

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Michael Gros is the Chief Operating Officer of the Jewish outreach organization The Atlanta Scholars Kollel. The Teshuva Journey is a monthly column chronicling amazing teshuva journeys and inspiring kiruv tales. To share a story or send other comments, email michaelgros@gmail.com. To receive the column via email or see back issues, visit http://www.michaelgros.com

(Published in The Jewish Press in February 2009)

For one leading HIV specialist and ophthalmologist, the kindness and love for others that he witnessed 35 years ago from an Orthodox doctor has influenced the way he has lived his life and treated patients ever since.

Mark Paris, MD, grew up in New York in the Fifties, surrounded by plenty of Jews but little Judaism. He traveled down south for his education, first to Tulane University for college and then to the University of Tennessee in Memphis for medical school. It was a time when segregation was still rampant throughout the South, and many doctors had separate waiting rooms.

During his fourth year of medical school, he was working in a hospital in Memphis and noticed one of the pathologists, named Manny, walking around with a yarmulke on his head. He also noticed the incredible respect and warmth that Manny gave to every person he met.

“He used to sit and drink tea with the housekeeper. I noticed this guy treated everyone the same. He didn’t treat the cleaning lady any worse than his boss. He told me it was because he was religious,” Mark said.

Mark spent much time with Manny, and routinely joined him for autopsies. The doctor radiated an incredible degree of care and concern for everyone he met.

“He told me everyone was created in G-d’s image and you have to treat everyone with respect,” Mark said. “He was very intellectual, a smart guy. He realized he could be a great professor and could still sit and drink tea with the housekeeper.”

For Mark’s last three months of medical school, he did a Tropical Medicine Fellowship in Costa Rica. For Passover, he and his family were invited to a local Rabbi’s house for the Seders. During the Seders, Mark sat next to the Jewish caretaker of the synagogue. Between the little bit of English that the caretaker spoke, and Mark’s minimal Spanish, the two men struck up a friendship. When the caretaker found out that the Parises were staying in a hotel, he insisted that they move in with him and his family for the remaining few weeks. They accepted. The accommodations were beautiful and Mark and his family were deeply touched by the caretaker’s hospitality.

“He basically said to me said it’s really terrible that my grandfather may have come from same shtetl as his, and we have to communicate with my broken English and his broken Spanish,” Mark said. “I thought it was amazing that he would do so much for me even though we’re not related. I decided I have to go find out more what it’s all about and why he would do so much for me.”

After the fellowship, Mark and his family moved back to Memphis for his internship. He spent more time with Manny, observing him and asking questions. He started reading all the Jewish books he could get his hands on. The doctor introduced him to other local Orthodox families, and within a few years of spending Shabbases in the community and studying with the Rabbi and other people, Mark and his family became observant.

Over his long career since then, Mark has traveled to distant corners lecturing, conducting research and treating patients. His CV reads like an almanac of third world countries. Among his travels, he was a Clinical Mentor in HIV in Lesotho, spent time in Peru participating in Malaria field studies and collecting botanical specimens for anti-tuberculosis drugs and has lectured on Snake Envenomation.

Mark is currently running clinics for people from third-world countries with HIV, TB and sexually transmitted diseases and also consults on medical projects in South America and Africa. For many of his patients, there is a strong stigma associated with being sick and taking medication, so Mark’s care and concern is a refreshing change.

“[Patients] know that I’m treating them the way I would treat anyone else. These are very sick people. All they want is someone to give them respect. The whole way I deal with people is based on my religious attitude.” Mark said. “If you’re nice to people, they all appreciate it, especially non-Jews. They have great respect if you have religious principles.”

Mark acknowledges that the compassion he shows his patients comes directly from his religious beliefs and the examples he saw from Manny and the synagogue caretaker many years ago. Mark witnessed their examples and built his life on the same principles. As Ben Zoma writes in Pirke Avot (4:1), “Who is wise? He who learns from every person.”

For Mark, his entire life has been one continuous process of learning from everyone he meets and passing on the knowledge and kindness to the next person.

“What I’ve learned from Judaism is that everyone in the world has something they can teach me,” Mark said “You don’t meet someone unless there’s a reason to do so. G-d puts you in a situation so you can learn something.”

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Michael Gros is the Chief Operating Officer of the Jewish outreach organization The Atlanta Scholars Kollel. The Teshuva Journey is a monthly column chronicling amazing teshuva journeys and inspiring kiruv tales. To share a story or send other comments, email michaelgros@gmail.com. To receive the column via email or see back issues, visit http://www.michaelgros.com

(Published in The Jewish Press in October 2008)

For every Jew alive today, even the most unobservant, it’s necessary to only go a couple of limbs up the family tree to find an observant predecessor. If you peek far enough, sometimes you can find amazingly special people in the family, from famous Rabbis to strong matriarchs. For one unassuming family in the cold hinterlands of Alaska, that was just the case.

In Alaska one finds plenty of snow, moose and oil, but few Jews. There are less than 6,000 in the entire state. Half of the Jews live in the city of Anchorage, so when Rabbi Yosef and Esther Greenberg arrived in Alaska in 1991 they set up the Chabad-Lubavitch Jewish Center of Alaska there. Handfuls of Jews also live in remote towns and cities such as Sitka, Kenai, Ketchikan and Kotzubue. Rabbi Greenberg flies to these areas, sometimes in a seaplane, to prepare boys for their bar mitzvahs, put up mezuzahs and teach Jewish classes.

The Greenberg’s annual Chanukkah party has always been their most popular event. At the 1993 party, Rabbi Greenberg noticed a new couple among the many familiar faces. He introduced himself and spoke to them for a few minutes but did not expect to see them again.

A few months later the wife called Rabbi Greenberg and asked him if he could train their son for his upcoming Bar Mitzvah. Their son had never been to Hebrew school and couldn’t read Hebrew. His family had not even planned on making a Bar Mitzvah. However the boy’s elderly grandmother from Los Angeles was persistent that her grandson have one, so to make her happy the couple was now turning to Rabbi Greenberg for help in preparing him for it.

Rabbi Greenberg tutored the boy, teaching him Hebrew and training him to say the blessings on the Torah. Finally the Shabbat of the Bar Mitzvah arrived and the boy’s extended family flew in from all around the country.

The Bar Mitzvah was beautiful. The boy read the blessings, and Rabbi Greenberg chanted the Torah portion and Haftorah.

During lunch in the synagogue after services, the boy’s grandmother asked for permission to speak. She stood up and explained why it was so important to her that her grandson have a Bar Mitzvah.

First she was worried that living in Alaska, her grandson would grow up without a Jewish identity. Therefore she wanted to make sure he would at least have a Bar Mitzvah.

Second, the grandmother related that she had moved to the United States from Russia many years earlier. She rarely attended synagogue, but fondly remembered receiving a strong Jewish education in her youth. She grew up in the town of Berditchev, and a private teacher came to her house every day to teach her and her siblings Jewish subjects. When Jewish observance was banned after the Russian Revolution of 1917, her religious education ceased.

Why did her parents value Jewish education so much, and why did she push so hard for her grandson to have a Bar Mitzvah?

“It was very important to me to make this Bar Mitzvah because of my family tree,” she continued, now looking directly at Rabbi Greenberg. “My family, we come from a big rabbi. Maybe you’ve heard of him. His name was Rabbi Yisrael Ba’al Shem Tov.”

Rabbi Greenberg’s jaw dropped. The Ba’al Shem Tov founded the Chassidic movement in the 1700s, of which Chabad-Lubavitch is a part. Two hundred years later the Ba’al Shem Tov’s efforts helped provide his descendents in Alaska with an authentic Jewish experience and a point of entry to return to Jewish observance.

After lunch Rabbi Greenberg approached the grandmother and said he had a piece to add to her story. Rabbi Greenberg said he himself is a ninth-generation descendent of the Maggid of Mezritch, who was the foremost student and successor of the Ba’al Shem Tov. So here in Alaska was a descendent of the Maggid of Mezritch helping to bring back a descendent of his teacher the Ba’al Shem Tov.

In the years since the Bar Mitzvah, the young man and his family have become more observant. Hashem specifically sent Rabbi Greenberg to Alaska because He knew that the deep relationship between the Ba’al Shem Tov and his student would help his descendents return. Plus G-d knew that the many merits of the Ba’al Shem Tov would remain in the family and be a spiritual catalyst to bring them back.

“All Jewish children running around the world are the grandchildren of Tzaddikim and Tzadekot,” Rabbi Greenberg said. “If your child or grandchild was going away from Judaism, wouldn’t you fight to get him back? The Baal Shem Tov was crying in heaven.”

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Michael Gros is the Chief Operating Officer of the Jewish outreach organization The Atlanta Scholars Kollel. The Teshuva Journey is a monthly column chronicling amazing teshuva journeys and inspiring kiruv tales. To share a story or send other comments, email michaelgros@gmail.com. To receive the column via email or see back issues, visit http://www.michaelgros.com

(Published in The Jewish Press in August 2008)

Becoming observant often requires a person to make radical changes in his life as he takes on new observances and practices. For David Wachtfungel*, an encounter with the memory of a deceased great-grandfather helped him overcome these hurdles.

David grew up non-observant in Michigan. During college he began to realize the importance of passing Judaism onto his children. David’s parents had gotten divorced years earlier, and his father had remarried a non-Jewish woman and had non-Jewish children with her. David’s brother married out of the religion. His sister followed suit and did not raise her children Jewish. David recognized that he was the only person left who could continue the religion. “I was going to be the last one to carry on the Jewish tradition in the family. I felt I owed it to myself to start asking questions about my Judaism,” David said. “I realized it’s ending with me, this Reform Jew. I don’t have a clue about Shabbat and Judaism.”

David went to Israel after graduation to increase his knowledge of Jewish culture and history. He spent two years there and loved it. He was all set to make aliyah, when he tore two ligaments in his ankle and had to return to Michigan for surgery. After the surgery David spent several months in Michigan recovering. He longed to return to Israel. Even though he still knew very little about his religion, he felt the most connected to it there.

While in Michigan he met several Orthodox Jews and began learning more about Judaism from them. He soon realized that it wasn’t the country of Israel that he missed but the religious feelings he had experienced there. David began working for a small company in Michigan owned by Shimon Traeger, who himself had become observant a few years earlier. During work the two men often discussed Judaism and Shimon tried answering David’s many questions.

After a few months, Shimon invited David to spend Shabbat with him and his family. David came and had a beautiful time. Still, he had many doubts about Orthodoxy. He loved the deep intellectual traditions, but felt that Judaism was too foreign to his lifestyle and too alien from how his family practiced the religion.

On Shabbat afternoon, Shimon and David went to a small Chassidic synagogue for Mincha. After the service Shimon introduced David to the Rabbi of the synagogue, Rabbi Stein. He was a middle-aged man and the son of the founding Rabbi of the synagogue who had passed away years earlier. He lived in New York and traveled to Michigan only a few times a year for the Jewish holidays and an occasional Shabbat.

“Rabbi, this is my friend David Wachtfungel,” Shimon said.

The Rabbi stood in shock for a second.

“David Wachtfungel?” the Rabbi replied. “Was your grandfather Ira Wachtfungel?”

David nodded in confusion.

“Stand right here. I have something for you.”

The Rabbi returned a minute later holding two dusty plaques. They were acknowledgements of contributions made many years earlier to the synagogue. Inscribed on them were the names of David’s grandfather, great-grandfather and great-grandmother!

Rabbi Stein said that David’s great-grandparents, who were Orthodox, had been active members of the synagogue in its early days. One plaque was from David’s great-grandfather in memory of his wife, and the other was from David’s grandfather in memory of his father. The plaques had been sitting untouched in the synagogue for thirty years.

David’s great-grandfather passed away when David was very young. When he was five, David remembers visiting his great-grandfather and receiving a kiss from him on his forehead. His great-grandfather said something to him, and while David doesn’t remember what it was, he thinks it was a blessing or a prayer for him. That memory has always remained with him.

“I have always felt a closeness to him as if he was watching over me,” David said. “I can’t help but feel grateful to him and those words he said to me.”

For David, the plaques were pieces of the puzzle he was missing. His biggest hurdle was trying to understand Judaism as a way of life with particular behaviors we must do every day. Here were members of his own family who lived based on those principles.

“These were my roots. I realized this is not a cultural thing, but this is my family,” David said. “I was interested in Judaism, but the gap seemed too far. It always appeared like two different worlds. How do you bridge that gap? That was a big breakthrough when I saw that my great-grandfather was religious.”

David had also been hesitant to adopt an observant lifestyle because he felt like doing so would cut off his family. But he realized that he wasn’t breaking with his family but was actually returning to their traditions.

The guiding hand of G-d is clear in David’s story. David and Shimon just happened to go into the synagogue, the Rabbi just happened to be there that Shabbat and the plaques just happened to be still be sitting there after 30 years. G-d arranged the events behind the scenes in precisely the order that David needed to return.

David’s story also proves that you never know the result of a good deed.

When Rabbi Elazar Meisels, who is affiliated with several outreach organizations, heard the story from David he said, “Your grandfather thought he was helping the Rabbi when he gave him the money. What he didn’t realize is this money that he gave was going to insure that his family would continue, because it’s only from you that he would have Jewish offspring.”

* The names in this story have been changed with the exception of Rabbi Meisels.

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Michael Gros is the Chief Operating Officer of the Jewish outreach organization The Atlanta Scholars Kollel. The Teshuva Journey is a monthly column chronicling amazing teshuva journeys and inspiring kiruv tales. To share a story or send other comments, email michaelgros@gmail.com. To receive the column via email or see back issues, visit http://www.michaelgros.com

(published in The Jewish Press June 2007)

Every Jew has a different road back to Orthodoxy and unique events which inspire his journey. For Mark Schwartz*, his journey towards becoming observant was marked by two ironic events – a spiritually uplifting experience which he barely appreciated and a religious test which he failed. Only when he later appreciated the significance of the moments did he realize the impact they had on his life.

Mark grew up in a completely non-observant home. His father had been raised Orthodox, but turned away from it and raised Mark and his siblings with no religious upbringing. However, most of his extended family remained observant. When Mark was a young boy, he was very close to his first cousin Shloimie. The two spent lots of time playing marbles in the streets or in each other’s Lower East Side apartments. Shloimie was descended from a long line of Rabbis and his family was well-connected to the religious establishment of New York.

When Mark was five he was once at Shloimie’s house on a Saturday afternoon. After hours of playing together, night had already fallen and it was time for Havdalah. Mark still clearly remembers being chosen to hold the Havdalah candle, but recalls nothing else of the evening. Years later his cousin told him that two of the biggest Rabbis in America were at Havdalah that night in the apartment – Rabbi Moshe Feinstein and Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik (Rabbi Feinstein lived in the same building as Shloimie’s family, and was related to Rabbi Soloveitchik. The latter had come to visit him that Shabbat afternoon and the two had joined Shloimie’s family for Havdalah).

Righteous individuals such as Rav Feinstein and Rav Soloveitchik bring a feeling of holiness to their surroundings that leaves an impression on those around them, whether they realize it or not. For Mark the experience lit a spark in him that would eventually burst into a flame to guide him back to Judaism.

For over 20 years that flame flickered silently inside Mark. He grew up, went to college and married a woman named Donna in 1970. They settled in New York. But their lives felt empty and they soon realized they needed spiritual meaning. They started attending a local Conservative synagogue and began taking on some Shabbat practices.

Over the next few years they slowly grew in their Jewish observance and considered becoming Orthodox. For Mark one of the hardest challenges in their growing religious practice was not being able to answer the telephone on Shabbat. Answering machines were not yet prevalent and the Schwartzes did not own one. Mark felt that every phone call was urgent and needed to be answered. Donna tried to persuade him to stop answering the phone on Shabbat but he was reluctant to give it up.

“Each individual phase of our growth took a little bit of self control. But the phone was different. It rang all the time,” Mark said. “You can put your lights on timers and then you don’t have to worry about them. But the phone was always a constant.”

After several years, Donna and Mark decided to move to a community better suited to their changing needs. They were the only young couple in their synagogue, and they wanted a congregation with families their age and that could provide more opportunities for spiritual growth. They were still straddling the fence between being Conservative and Orthodox, but chose an Orthodox community on Long Island.

They eventually found a house near an Orthodox synagogue and applied for a mortgage. It was a stressful time period: they were at a crossroads in their lives religiously, were anxious about their move and were unsure if they would be approved for a mortgage.

A Yom Tov came in the middle of this period and offered a much needed respite from their worries. However the holiday brought a challenge too. On Yom Tov we have most of the same restrictions as on Shabbat, including a prohibition on answering the phone.

Mark and Donna were home in the afternoon of that weekday Yom Tov. The phone rang and Mark could not resist picking it up.

It was the bank, calling to tell them that their mortgage application for their new house had been rejected.

“I looked at Donna, Donna looked at me, and we said ‘enough is enough.’ It was a clear message from Hashem,” Mark said. “That was the last time I answered the phone on Yom Tov or Shabbat.”

After months of trying to wean himself from his dependency on answering the telephone, it took just one big slip to make him stop. Sometimes failing a test is just what a person needs to help him embark on the correct course of action.

“When people decide to go to therapy for help, they decide to go because they finally admit that something is wrong. That call told me, ‘this is the message. You’ve been wanting to stop answering the phone, so just stop it.’ ”

Mark and Donna eventually applied for another mortgage and were approved. Several months later they moved into their new house on Long Island, and within a few years became fully Orthodox. And Mark never picked up the phone on Shabbat or Yom Tov again.

* The Schwartzes names have been changed.

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Michael Gros is the Chief Operating Officer of the Jewish outreach organization The Atlanta Scholars Kollel. The Teshuva Journey is a monthly column chronicling amazing teshuva journeys and inspiring kiruv tales. To share a story or send other comments, email michaelgros@gmail.com. To receive the column via email or see back issues, visit http://www.michaelgros.com

(published in The Jewish Press May 2007)