Journeys of the Soul

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)

If you want to know how long Mira Bergen has been keeping Shabbat, just ask to see her marble collection.

On New Year’s Eve in 1999 Mira was at a crossroads. She had been coming to the local Orthodox community for Shabbat on and off for over 10 years and loved it. She especially cherished the warmth of the Shabbat table and seeing families spending quality time together. But as much as she loved the lifestyle, she had been unable to commit to keeping Shabbat.

However in 1999 as everyone was talking about the New Millennium and Y2K, Mira saw something else. She had always been interested in New Age ideas and pop spirituality. When New Year’s Eve fell on a Friday night, Mira saw the intersection of Shabbat and the new millennium as a sign from G-d that it was time to observe the Sabbath and become Shomer Shabbat. But it was intimidating to give herself that title, so she decided to celebrate just one Shabbat at a time. She resolved to make December 31st her first one.

“I saw the new millennium and said OK, time to start being Sabbath observant. But I can’t be Shomer Shabbat. I can’t use that label,” Mira said. So she decided to keep just that one Shabbat. “I’m making a commitment one Shabbat at a time.”

Mira learned the lesson from her mother, who taught her that if you’re trying to cut a roll of salami it can be overwhelming to do it all at once. But if you slice it one bit at a time, it’s much easier to do it.

“Many people think that observing Judaism is an all or nothing action, that you must take on all the obligations at once. But growth in Judaism is really about constant baby steps, about taking on small commitments,” Mira said. “G-d appreciates anything we do to get closer.”

For Mira this meant making one commitment at a time. In every area of her Jewish growth she heeded her mother’s advice and cut off only a small bit at a time.

“If someone is not ready to keep Shabbat each week, why not try to keep it only for an hour? If someone is not ready to keep kosher full time, then try to give up only one particular food,” Mira said. “People think they have to do everything at once. They don’t know that G-d looks highly at everything we do. You’re making a distinction, you’re trying to have a relationship with Hashem.”

So on Friday night, December 31, she was sitting with a local family watching the clock as it struck midnight. It was the first time she had ever spent New Year’s Eve not watching the ball drop in New York on television. But instead of lamenting that she was missing the televised celebrations, Mira felt wonderful as she reflected on the start of the new millennium quietly and in G-d’s way. The frenzied revelry of the secular New Year had been replaced by the spiritual bliss of Shabbat.

That one Shabbat turned into two and within a short time she had kept Shabbat for a month. She kept track of each Shabbat by placing a marble into a wine decanter. By now she has over 430 marbles.

With each marble she added, the number of that Shabbat also took on a deeper meaning. Each Shabbat she looked for a connection between the week’s number and an idea in the Torah portion of the week or other current event. Every number is significant in Judaism and has a particular meaning, and members of the community began pointing out some of the deeper connections of the number of her marbles.

On Shabbat number 13, her Rabbi taught her about the 13 Attributes of Hashem. Mira’s 40 Shabbat was Rosh Hashanah. The number 40 is deeply related to birth and new beginnings, so it was a perfect timing.

On Mira’s 50th Shabbat the family she was staying with baked a special challah in the shape of the Hebrew letter Nun, which has the numerical value 50. When she traveled to Israel and spent three Shabbats there, she added three unique items to her collection: a small blue chamsah “hand,” a blue glass circle and a blue fish. For her 100th Shabbat she put a battery into the jar because “Shabbat keeps me going!” People in the community have bought other special marbles for various Shabbats, such as the handmade marbles a friend recently brought her from China.

Mira originally collected marbles as a way to make herself accountable and maintain her Shabbat observance, but soon she began looking forward to each Shabbat and especially to putting another marble into the decanter. With each new marble, Mira gained a deeper level of appreciation for Shabbat.

“A lot of people don’t understand. They think that I live the most rigid life, full of shoulds and have tos, that I have to do this and this. However my life is filled with such pleasure and joy and laughter,” Mira said. “G-d loves me so much because He gave me Shabbat.”

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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 April 2007)

Joel Kessler’s path towards becoming Shabbat observant was filled with potholes, but he was guided by G-d’s hand and in the end received an unbelievable salvation.

Joel’s journey began in April of 2005. His father had just passed away and he made a commitment to go to synagogue every day to recite the Kaddish prayer in his memory. Joel began attending his Conservative synagogue’s daily prayer service, but Saturday mornings posed a challenge. He worked as the manager of a nearby electronics store and needed to leave to open the store before the 9:00 am Shabbat morning service at his synagogue.

He heard that the local Orthodox synagogue, the Young Israel of Plainview, had an early Saturday morning service at 7:30. Joel decided to try it. He knew that he would not be able to stay for the entire service, but would be able to say a few Kaddishes.

That Shabbat morning he drove to the Young Israel and was warmly received. He stayed for a little while and then excused himself and drove off to the store.

Joel decided to attend the Young Israel every Saturday morning and started going to the morning service during the week as well. Over the next few months his friends at the Young Israel’s daily morning service served as an ad hoc support group and helped him through his bereavement. He felt part of a huge, caring family.

“I was brought there, I was guided there for a reason. You have to believe in Hashem. Things like finding that synagogue don’t just happen by accident,” Joel said.

After a few months, the Saturday morning service had become a staple of his life and he looked forward to it all week. But now he had a different challenge. He enjoyed the service so much that he dreaded having to leave early.

At this point a perfect opportunity arrived. For many years Joel and a friend had contemplated opening their own electronics store. By mid-2005 they had saved up enough money and opened a store. For Joel it meant that he now had a partner who could watch the store while he was in synagogue!

Joel began attending the entire Shabbat morning service each week and stayed for Kiddush afterwards. He still left to go to his store after services but loved his few hours each week in synagogue. Now he began wishing he could quit his job and commit to Shabbat. But he saw no way out. It was his store now.

Joel eventually got his wish, though not in quite the way he had hoped. From almost the beginning the store had financial problems and through 2006 business was on a downward spiral. The store went bankrupt in October 2006.

Joel was absolutely frightened. The store was his livelihood and he wasn’t sure how he would be able to make ends meet.

At the same time he was beginning to see G-d’s hand in his life. He realized that G-d had provided him with the opportunity to keep Shabbat.

“Part of my life was ending, but I knew that something new was beginning,” Joel said. “It’s such a calming feeling to have Shabbat.”

After the store folded, Joel began spending the entire Shabbat in synagogue and with families in the community. His wife and children joined him on occasion, and his teenage son now walks to synagogue with him every Shabbas.

It was the first time in his life that Joel had found peace. During his 16 years as a store manager, employees constantly called him even during vacations and Jewish holidays. For those 16 years every Rosh Hashanah was spent the same way: in the morning he went to synagogue with his family, and in the afternoon returned all of the work calls that had piled up while he was praying.

“It’s such a calming feeling to have Shabbat and to know that nobody will call me and beep me,” Joel said. “Now I found peace.”

So at the end of 2006, a year and a half after he first stepped foot in the Young Israel, Joel began keeping Shabbat. But he was now without a job. He went on lots of interviews, and during each one explained that as an observant Jew he could not work on Saturdays or Jewish holidays. Since Saturday is the prime day in the retail world, no one hired him. But despite all the rejections, Joel never compromised on Shabbat.

Joel eventually heard that the electronics store B&H Photo in Manhattan was expanding so he applied and was given an interview. Lo and behold he was hired to work in the home entertainment division!

B&H is owned by Orthodox Jews and is closed on Saturdays and Jewish holidays. It shuts early on Fridays. The store even has a Mincha service each afternoon.

The B&H job was Joel’s salvation. His desire to keep Shabbat was so intense and he had given up so much for it, so G-d sent him the perfect job to let him to do so.

“I have faith in Hashem, and he’s leading me somewhere. The whole time he’s been taking me by the hand and leading me,” Joel said.

King David refers to G-d as “your shadow” (Psalms 121:5). Just as a shadow copies its owner’s actions, G-d reacts to our actions. If we exert ourselves to keep Shabbat, G-d reciprocates and arranges events to help us do so.

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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 February 2007)