Journeys of the Soul

The state of Idaho is not a place where one would expect to find many Jews, but that hasn’t stopped Chabad Rabbi Mendel Lifshitz and his wife Esther. They moved to Boise, Idaho five and a half years ago with the goal of building up the local Jewish community. When they arrived, they were greeted by fields upon fields of potatoes, but little else. The state had only a single synagogue, a Reform congregation, but virtually no other organized Jewish community resources. However that’s exactly the environment that the Lifshitzes were looking for.

“I was working as a rabbi in Bal Harbor, Florida when we got married. Esther and I decided we wanted to do something special for other Yidden and help them,” Rabbi Lifshitz said. “I was doing kiruv work out there and helping them, I was very involved, but I realized as much as we were doing, we wanted to be in a place where we were really needed.

“In Florida or New York, rabbis are a dime a dozen. There are plenty of Jews that need to be reached out to, but we wanted to be in place where there’s not much going on and our presence would be crucial. We started looking into different options through Chabad. The name Idaho came up. The first time it came up, we didn’t know what to make of it. People hear Idaho and think of potatoes, not Jews.”

The Lifshitzes took an exploratory trip to Idaho to gauge whether they could make it work. They traveled the state, met with the few Jews they could find, and scoped out the Jewish resources. The low cost of living has attracted newcomers and even major corporations to the state over the last several years, and handfuls of Jews have been moving in. The Lifshitzes decided that Idaho was exactly what they were looking for. So immediately after Pesach, they packed up their bags and moved out west.

As soon as the Lifshitzes arrived, they began looking to meet local Jews. One day, Rabbi Lifshitz walked into a local office to meet a Jewish man whom he had heard worked there. Suddenly the man burst out of his office with a look of horror on his face. When he was told by the receptionist that a Rabbi had come to see him, he immediately assumed that there had been a death in his family, because he didn’t know any other reason why a rabbi would be visiting him!

Another time, Rabbi Lifshitz was shopping in a supermarket in Boise with his son. The two were speaking to each other in Yiddish when a man approached them. He introduced himself and said he was also Jewish. He had read an article about Rabbi Lifshitz in the local paper. The man said he grew up in a Jewish neighborhood in California and had moved from there to Idaho three years earlier. Having not heard Yiddish in years, his ears perked up when he heard it. Rabbi Lifshitz schmoozed with him and invited him for Shabbat dinner. The man took him up on his offer several weeks later.

“You never know what type of yid a person is and what will inspire him,” Rabbi Lifshitz said. “He’s looking for chicken soup and kneidilach, but his neshama is looking for a connection to Yiddishkeit.”

The Lifshitzes had several such experiences of Jews coming out of the woodwork to introduce themselves, but it was difficult when they first arrived. The challenge was compounded by the fact that Esther gave birth to a baby boy soon after they moved in and they were making a bris. They needed to invite ten Jews to the bris to make a minyan, but how could they go about finding them?

Their challenge was solved just in time, literally by a knock on the door. Rabbi Lifshitz opened the door, to find the local mailman hand-delivering his mail. The Lifshitz’s house had a mailbox by the street, but the mailman decided to bring the mail to the door to welcome the new family to Idaho.

The mailman stuck out his hand and introduced himself.

“I’m Hershel the mailman.”

Rabbi Lifshitz was too shocked to answer.

“Your name is really Hershel?” Rabbi Lifshitz finally stammered. “I’m Mendel. I wasn’t expecting to find a Hershel in Idaho.”

The mailman explained that he was originally from Long Island, New York. Other than knowing that his first name was Jewish, he had little other connection to Judaism. He had grown up in a mixed-marriage home, and when he was 11 and his parents got divorced, he moved with his non-Jewish father to Idaho. After that he had no other Jewish connections until Rabbi Lifshitz arrived.

Rabbi Lifshitz points out the clear Hand of G-d present in the story. This wasn’t Hershel’s normal route as he was just filling in for another mail carrier who was on vacation that week. However he knew of other Jews in the area, which helped the Lifshitzes to gather a minyan together for the bris.

The morning of the bris arrived, and the Lifshitzes were surrounded by an unexpected group of new Jewish friends. That group has grown significantly in the few years since then, and many people have taken on new mitzvot and other observances. The Lifshitzes have also brought many new Jewish resources to the state, from kosher food to Jewish education. Now when people think of Idaho, they don’t just think of potatoes, but they think of Jews too!

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Michael Gros is the former Chief Operating Officer of the outreach organization The Atlanta Scholars Kollel. He writes from Ramat Beit Shemesh, Israel. The Teshuva Journey column chronicles uplifting teshuva journeys and inspiring kiruv tales. Send comments to michaelgros@gmail.com

Published in The Jewish Press in January 2010

After the Iron Curtain was lifted in Europe twenty years ago, a surprising thing occurred – thousands of people who had been raised as gentiles came to the startling realization that they were actually Jews. Poland is home to thousands of such stories. During the Holocaust and under Communist rule, many Jews there hid their identities and continued to conceal them even after the fall of Communism. On their deathbeds, some of them have revealed their true identities to their children or grandchildren. Other people found out from old family records or through other means.

Once they discover their roots, people often turn to Rabbi Michael Schudrich, an American who has been the Chief Rabbi of Poland since 2004. Rabbi Schudrich has been the guide for multitudes of Jews to return to Torah Judaism. They turn to him for guidance and direction, and he tries to help them to reclaim their proud heritage that had been hidden for so many years.

Several years ago, Zbiszek, a 52 year-old man from Bialystock, came to Rabbi Schudrich’s office in Warsaw. Zbiszek told him that his mother had passed away four months earlier. Following the funeral, Zbiszek was approached by several neighbors who told him astonishing news - this woman who had raised him, whom he knew to be his mother, was not his actual biological mother.

They told Zbiszek that he had been born Jewish. In 1942, as Jews throughout Poland were being exterminated, Zbiszek’s Jewish parents gave him to the woman for adoption in case they were killed. His biological parents did not survive the Holocaust, and so the woman raised Zbiszek as her own son.

She had risked her life to save him during the war, and so she never wanted him to know the truth. She swore her neighbors to secrecy, and they dutifully remained silent for five decades. Now that she had passed away, they decided it was time to reveal the secret.

Zbiszek trembled when he first heard the news and didn’t know what to do. He spent a long time in deep introspection. Should he continue living his comfortable life as a Christian, as he had been raised, or should he embrace his newfound religion, of which he knew nothing?

Zbiszek decided he wanted to live proudly as a Jew, but didn’t know how. So here he was in Rabbi Schudrich’s office, looking for answers. Zbiszek told the rabbi that he felt most guilty that he never had a “Jewish baptism.”

Rabbi Schudrich calmed his fears and taught him the basics of Judaism. Zbiszek spent the next few years studying together with Rabbi Schudrich and attending classes in the community. Today he goes by Zecharya Asher, and is an active member of the Polish Jewish community.

Another unique story is that of Pawel Bramson. He was raised in an observant Catholic family. As a teenager, he joined a skinhead gang. He was virulently anti-Jewish, anti-black and anti-Gypsy.

Pawel married his Catholic high school sweetheart. They had two children, and at the age of twenty, Pawel’s wife found out that she was really Jewish! The news shook Pawel. However over time he was able to reconcile his previous hatred of Jews with the knowledge of his wife’s religion.

Several years later, Pawel’s wife decided to bring some Jewish traditions into their home. She began making Shabbat meals and Pawel consented to her desires. When he told his parents about the meals, they reacted with anger. They tried to pressure Pawel to make his wife sweep her Judaism back under the rug.

Pawel continued to support his wife, despite his parents objections. One day, his parents revealed the source of their anger - they were both Jews themselves! Pawel’s parents had hid their Judaism out of fear of anti-Semitism in Poland. The religious life that Pawel’s wife was beginning to explore represented everything they had tried to run away from.

The news stunned Pawel, and it took him a long time to accept it. The same Jews that he had hated as a teenager were now his own people. But Pawel slowly accepted the discovery, and he and his wife began bringing more traditions into their home. They are now fully observant.

Pawel has three brothers, one who is his twin. The twin still believed in many of the anti-Semitic myths that Pawel had rejected. And yet he has been influenced by Pawel’s religious growth in some small ways.

One Friday night, Pawel’s twin brother tried calling him on his cell phone but could not reach him. The twin went to the synagogue to try to find him, but Pawel was not there. That Friday night the synagogue had only nine men in attendance, just one short of a minyan. So when Pawel’s brother walked in, Rabbi Schudrich asked him if he could stay in the synagogue to be the tenth man. He said yes.

Such is the rebirth of Jews in Poland. Even Jews far removed from Judaism, with seemingly no connection, still have a tiny spark of Judaism deep inside them. With the right impetus, that spark can ignite into the beautiful fire of a proud Jewish soul.

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Michael Gros is the former Chief Operating Officer of the outreach organization The Atlanta Scholars Kollel. He writes from Ramat Beit Shemesh, Israel. The Teshuva Journey column chronicles uplifting teshuva journeys and inspiring kiruv tales. Send comments to michaelgros@gmail.com

Published in The Jewish Press in December, 2009

Some people can accomplish more in a single moment than the rest of us do in our entire lives.

The Baraisa (Avodah Zara 17a) recounts the story of Elazar ben Durdaya who dedicated his life to empty pursuits and pleasures. One day, a chance comment caused him to realize how meaningless his life had been. He immediately broke down in tears of sincere penitence, accepted responsibility for his misdeeds and committed himself to changing. At that moment he died, and a voice called out from heaven and said, “He has been readied for the life of the World to Come!”

When the incident was reported to Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi, he said the sincerity of Elazar ben Durdaya’s teshuva was the key to its acceptance. He said some people acquire their place in the World to Come through many years of work, and some can acquire it in a single moment.

Doniel Goldrich* witnessed a similar moment of life-changing teshuva nearly 20 years ago. Doniel participated in a learning program sponsored by Partners In Torah. Once a week, Doniel and several other men from Lakewood drove to a synagogue in a neighboring town where they learned one-on-one with community members.

Doniel was paired with 38-year old Marshall Lichtenstein*. Marshall’s two sons attended the nearby religious Shalom Torah Center school, but at home the family kept very few practices.

Doniel and Marshall studied the Torah portion of the week together and used it as a springboard into many other topics, including Jewish philosophy, mitzvot and holidays. Over the two years that they learned together, Doniel was constantly inspired by Marshall’s excitement for learning and his passion for the material.

When Marshall was a young man, he had been diagnosed with a serious heart condition. But after years with no episodes, he assumed the condition had passed. However a year and a half after Doniel started learning with him, Marshall began feeling ill. After a battery of tests his cardiologist said that he needed a valve replacement as soon as possible. He went through open-heart surgery to have a pig’s valve inserted, and when the procedure was unsuccessful, his doctors performed a second round of surgery.

“Through the process we got to know him,” Doniel said. “We went to the hospital to visit him. He wasn’t religious at all, but he put on Tefillin in his hospital room for the first time. He was very appreciative that we visited.”

Committing to particular mitzvot can be a major source of merit for a person in a difficult situation, so Doniel suggested some small religious steps that Marshall could take. Religious growth is based on taking baby steps, and Doniel suggested a few preliminary ideas.

“I said to him ‘would you want to take on something, to bring to action things that we’ve talked about? It might bring fulfillment to your life. You don’t have to keep completely Kosher, but at some level you might consider keeping Kosher in your home, or maybe your wife would like to light Shabbas candles,’” Doniel said.

“That’s an amazing idea,” Marshall said. “Let me think about it.”

The following week Doniel spoke to him during their learning session after he had been released from the hospital. Doniel could see a difference in him, a certain excitement that he had never seen before.

“I could tell that something had changed. His face was lit up,” Doniel said. “Marshall said, ‘we can’t keep Kosher in our home now, but every Thursday night we go out on a date to particular restaurant, because of our favorite dish on the menu which is made of pork. We decided we won’t go to that restaurant anymore. We’ll change our weekly date because it’s not Kosher. It’s something we accepted on ourselves because of your suggestion.’”

“You could see the happiness on his face. It was not an easy decision. It was very hard,” Doniel said. “I told him how wonderful it was.”

For Marshall, it was a major step. To give up a favorite dish and restaurant takes a lot of self-control, but Marshall and his wife were committed to their decision. They understood that the value of their decision outweighed their enjoyment of the particular dish.

Ten days later, Doniel received a call from Marshall’s wife at 6:00 in the morning. She said that Marshall had passed away during the night.

Doniel put the family in touch with a local Orthodox funeral home which gave him a full kosher burial. Doniel and several of the other men from Lakewood attended the funeral. A Rabbi from the sons’ school delivered the eulogy. He knew Marshall and over the last two years had witnessed Marshall’s growing excitement for Jewish learning. The rabbi quoted the first Mishnah in Bava Kamma that refers to man as maveh, a word which comes from the root “to search or inquire.”

“He said that’s the root of human beings – we’re always searching, always looking to make ourselves better. This was Marshall. He was able in mid-life to become a searcher, to accept new opportunities.”

At the cemetery, Doniel and his friends made sure that Marshall was buried in the proper way. Everyone else had gone home after the service, but the men wanted to make sure everything was done perfectly. They threw shovelful after shovelful of dirt into the grave until it was full.

“After we finished putting dirt in the hole, a woman came over to us, hysterically crying. She said ‘I’m Marshall’s first cousin. To see what I just saw, he must have done something in his life to merit having people like you burying him.’”

That was Marshall. With his one major decision, Marshall transformed his life both in this world and the next world. How much can we achieve, not just in one special moment, but over a lifetime of dedicating ourselves on the proper path?

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Michael Gros is the former Chief Operating Officer of the outreach organization The Atlanta Scholars Kollel. He writes from Ramat Beit Shemesh, Israel. The Teshuva Journey column chronicles uplifting teshuva journeys and inspiring kiruv tales. Send comments to michaelgros@gmail.com

* Name has been changed

(Published in The Jewish Press in November 2009)

For Robert lipanzer*, a chance question in college sent him on an amazing journey into his religion and deep into his family roots.

During his freshman year at George Washington University, Robert connected with a local outreach rabbi and began learning more about Judaism and growing in his religious observance. Towards the end of the year, Robert decided he was ready to begin putting on tefillin daily and asked the rabbi to order him a pair.

“How do you wrap your tefillin, in or out?” came the rabbi’s reply.

Jews wrap the strap of their arm tefillin either in towards their body or away from it, with the direction differing based on the place of origin of a person’s family and their religious group. The direction of the wrapping affects the type of Tefillin he would be purchasing. Robert didn’t know his family’s tradition, but knew that his grandfather used to wear them so decided to ask him.

Robert’s grandfather said his father taught him to wrap the strap outward and not to wrap it on his hand in the shape of the Hebrew letter Shin. Both practices differed from the prevailing customs of the Jews of Minsk where the family originated. Robert’s grandfather didn’t know why their customs were different.

Robert began to wonder if these were Chassidic customs. Besides the way to wrap his tefillin, the only other family custom his grandfather remembered were unique tunes for the Passover Seder. Robert began researching his family and the community of Minsk in depth. He started learning Chassidic texts and was deeply drawn to them. He began learning and growing more, especially towards the direction of Chassidism.

“I knew I had found the path for my soul. Chassidus spoke to me,” Robert said.

Robert contacted a Chassidic rabbi in Monsey, New York who used to live in Minsk. Robert was hopeful that maybe he knew more about the Jews of Minsk and possibly even his family.

Robert called him. Not only did he have a lot of information on the Jews of Minsk, he said the maiden name of his aunt’s mother was Lipanzer! Her family had come from Minsk, and yes, they were Chassidic. They were followers of the Koidenover Chasidic dynasty, which Robert found out later had been a large group in White Russia and Lithuania before being decimated in the Holocaust.

Robert was overjoyed. Maybe he had found a long-lost relative. Because of his interest in Chassidism, the potential that his family was Chassidic also made him ecstatic.

Robert spent the Spring Break week of his senior year in Monsey. He met the Chassidic rabbi and heard more about the Jews of Minsk. The rabbi also gave Robert the phone number of his sister-in-law, who was the wife of a Rosh Yeshiva of a Chassidic yeshiva and knew a lot about the family.

Robert called her. He explained that his great-grandfather was named Chaim Noach and he had lived in Baltimore.

“Uncle Chaim from Baltimore!” she exclaimed.

They realized that they were direct relatives. The woman also mentioned her grandfather “Zeide Yosef,” whom Robert knew as Uncle Joe. Robert had heard about Uncle Joe from his grandfather, but the families had lost contact with each other. Robert began signing the Passover tunes that he knew, and the woman said they were the same tunes used in her family.

She began filling in more details of Robert’s family. They were indeed members of the Koidenov Chassidic dynasty. She said that her grandmother, who was Robert’s great-great grandmother, had the coveted job of baking the 12 special challahs used at the Koidenover Rebbe’s Shabbat table.

“I couldn’t believe it. I thought maybe I would track down information linking us to a particular Chassidus, but to find frum cousins was beyond my imagination,” Robert said.

After graduating from college, Robert went to Israel to study in Yeshiva. On his first free Shabbat, he went to Bnei Brak to meet the current Koidenover Rebbe who is trying to rebuild the group in Israel. Some of Robert’s religious cousins in Bnai Brak hosted him and introduced him to the Rebbe.

On Friday afternoon he went to meet the Rebbe. Robert told the Rebbe about his family and that this great-grandfather was a Koidenover chasid. The Rebbe quoted the verse “v’dor har’vii yashuvu ad hena” –“and the fourth generation will return here” (Bereishis 15:16). Robert’s soul felt complete. Here was a direct connection to his family and heritage. More than that, he had found his direction in life.

“I had come home and received a royal welcome,” Robert said.

Over Shabbat, Robert davened with the Rebbe and ate meals at his table. He felt at home. These were his family’s customs and tunes. These were his origins.

Robert continues to be a devoted student of the Koidenover Rebbe as he helps him to rebuild the lost community and reconnect to his family’s traditions. And it was all because of a simple question from the rabbi in college.

“Imagine if the Rabbi from college did not ask me how we wrapped Tefillin. He could have ordered me a regular pair with an Ashkenaz [knot], yet his one question sparked a search which eventually ignited my soul,” Robert said.

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

* Name has been changed

(Published in The Jewish Press in October 2009)

Michelle Singer* is the perfect model of a well-adjusted, stable young woman. She is married with beautiful children and is today completely put together. However hidden deep below her calm exterior is a story of a troubled childhood, filled with abuse, drug problems and suicide attempts. For most of her childhood and adolescence she felt completely lost in the world with no one to support or love her. However when she began discovering Hashem and His love, she found the strength to rise up out of the mire and recover from her abuse.

Michelle grew up in a nonobservant, pathologically dysfunctional home. She says she was physically and emotionally abused by her parents. As a result, Michelle developed severe depression and psychosomatic ailments. She says now that she cannot remember a time in her life when she was not depressed.

As a teenager she was sent to psychiatrists but to no avail. Instead of helping her deal with the underlying causes of her depression, they diagnosed her with a host of illnesses including bipolar disorder. At one point in her life, Michelle was taking 12 different psychiatric medications. The medicines affected her body and dragged her down into further depression. She found out later that she didn’t have any of the diseases she was diagnosed with.

During high school Michelle found a way to escape from the abuse, albeit only temporary. She spent one year on a high school program in Israel. The program gave her the respite she needed. Though the program was secular, it took the students on tours to significant spots in Israel and taught them the basics of Judaism. From these experiences she developed a deep love for Judaism and Israel.

Michelle came home after the year and tried to bring some of the inspirations and lessons into her life. She tried to keep kosher at home and follow other practices. Though her religious observances gave her strength and structure, she soon fell into the same patterns as a victim of abuse and the subsequent negative routines and depression.

During her early twenties Michelle turned to drugs and alcohol to numb her pain and emptiness. The substances wreaked havoc on her body, leading to additional health issues and further depression. She attempted suicide several times.

Michelle’s psychiatrists sent her for ECT, electroconvulsive therapy. ECT uses shocks administered to the brain for patients with severe depression that does not respond to treatment. Side effects include confusion and memory loss. In a small number of patients the effects can be even worse.

Michelle received 12 ECT treatments over a single month. The treatment didn’t rid her of her illnesses, but instead left her with intense long-term memory loss and even personality changes. Family members visited her in the hospital and she was unable to identify them. She also had to learn how to read and write again.

But as the ECT made her forgot almost everything that she knew, it began drawing something out of her soul. She began recalling and connecting to Jewish truths and ideas. She had no Jewish education growing up and few religious experiences, but somehow began recalling Jewish concepts. She began recalling profound spiritual ideas about the existence of G-d, faith, truth and the holiness of the Creator.

“I never had any formal training, that’s why I thought it was so amazing,” Michelle said. “Clearly I must have learned this in the womb.”

The Rabbis write (Niddah 30b) that an angel teaches the Torah to a fetus while it is in its mother’s womb. Michelle said it was this Torah that she was now recalling.

For each ECT procedure, Michelle was put under complete anesthesia. Immediately before each treatment, Hebrew words popped into her mind, the words of the Shema. She doesn’t recall ever learning the Shema, but she knew what the words were.

After a month the ECT treatments ended and Michelle felt liked she had an amazing chance to start her life over.

“At first I couldn’t form sentences, I couldn’t really speak, but I knew Hashem, I knew that Hashem loves me,” Michelle said.

This newfound awareness of Hashem and His love helped Michelle recover from the treatments and abuse and build a new life. She began reading whatever Jewish books she could get her hands on. Within six months of the treatments she had begun keeping Shabbat and kosher.

It’s now been several years since the ECT treatments. Michelle is off all of her psychiatric medications and illicit substances.

“For me there’s no need to take medicine. I found all of these ways to become healthy.
If I’m feeling a little down, I always know there’s Torah. I can read the Parsha, I can just daven and I’ll feel better,” Michelle said.

Postscript: After her treatments, Michelle moved out of her parents’ house and went to Manhattan. At a class at a Jewish outreach center she met a sweet young man. He came from a stable family and was just becoming observant.

They spent a year together in the same class but never spoke to each other. Finally a matchmaker set them up. After three weeks they were engaged and they were married a month later. They are happily married with three children and live in New York.

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

* Name has been changed

(Published in The Jewish Press in August 2009)

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)