As I walked out the front door of our brand new house I was grinning like a Cheshire cat. I touched the mezuzah on the doorpost and strolled down the sidewalk leading to the road that runs by the front of my house. After traveling about three steps, my eyes began to tear up, my cheeks got bright red and my fingers felt like frozen hot dogs. “It must be 24 degrees out here,” I thought to myself.
When my wife Linda and I moved to Reno, Nevada we were fortunate to find a home that was located about two miles from the local Chabad Shul. Since we had never lived close to a Shul before, I was excited about the opportunity to enjoy a brisk Shabbos walk to Shul each week. Now it is not unusual for me to walk three and four miles when I exercise on my treadmill, so I knew a short two-mile walk to Shul on Shabbos would be a piece of kugel. However, I must admit, I never walk on my treadmill in 24 degree temperatures or when the wind is blowing like a small gale straight into my face. After walking another 100 yards I stopped and pondered the idea of turning around and driving to Shul. “Who’d know,” I asked myself. “You’d know,” I answered myself without hesitation.
As I paused to consider my situation my good friend Desmond Rothenberg suddenly popped into my mind. Des, as we like to call him, is the Gabbai of the Chabad Shul in Wilmington, Delaware. He’s the guy that gets to Shul early on Shabbos, makes sure all the seats are perfectly arranged, all the Siddurim are neatly stacked on the bookshelf and the Shul itself is ready for the minyon.
During my last visit to Wilmington, I attended the bar mitzvah of another good friend, young Dovi Vogel. It goes without saying that we had a wonderful time celebrating Dovi’s special day. Relatives and friends from around the world came to hear Dovi lead the davening, lane from the Torah and chant his Haftorah. After an afternoon of celebration and joy, the sun finally set, the stars illuminated the sky and those remaining at the Vogel home participated in the Havdalah ceremony to officially mark the conclusion of that Shabbos.
I had taken advantage of a great online deal and was scheduled to take a red-eye flight back to Nevada later that evening. As I was making my way to the front door I heard someone say, “It’s late, can someone give Des a ride home?” I had about four hours until my flight, so I gladly volunteered. I assumed he lived nearby, since he has been the Gabbai ever since I walked into the Chabad of Delaware Shul many years before.
Des and I jumped into my Ford Focus rental car and started our journey. The first mile went by and then the next. After three miles I said, “Des, have we missed a turnoff, we’ve gone more than three miles?” He laughed and said, “Steve its right up the road.” As we traveled through mile four I saw a sign on the side of the road that said. “Welcome to Pennsylvania.” “Welcome to Pennsylvania,” my mind shouted out! With the Delaware landscape rapidly disappearing in my rear view mirror I said, “Des where the heck do you actually live?” He replied, “I live about two more miles up the road. Go to the second street light and turn right and we’ll be there.”
Incredulously I asked, “You live six and a half miles from Shul and walk both ways every Shabbos?” “It’s just a good stretch of the legs Steve” he replied. When we finally pulled in front of his house I said, “Des, do you walk all this way, through two states, when it rains and snows as well?” He laughed and replied, “Well, when it rains or snows I just walk a little faster!” I looked at him and shook my head with astonishment and admiration. We shook hands goodbye, wished each other well and parted company. As he made his way to his front door I was awestruck by his commitment. Every Shabbos he walks 13 miles round trip, through two states and still manages to make sure the Shul is perfect before the rest of the congregation arrives. I on the other hand complain if my tea is a tad bit cold!
The memory of this encounter bombarded my brain, as I stood at the top of the hill in Reno feeling sorry for myself because my ears were a little frosty and the howling wind was mussing up my hair. I thought about Des and his unwavering commitment to his beliefs, his Shul and his friends. Des’ mantra “It’s just a good stretch of the legs,” was now my mantra. Inspired by his example I shrugged off the chill, blew on my hands and started down the hill. As inches became feet and feet became yards and yards became half miles, my body quickly warmed up. Arms and legs pumping like a member of the Chabad race-walk team, I found myself briskly covering the ground between my front door and the Shul.
Before you could say, “Please pass the kugel,” I was opening the door to the Shul. Standing there with a big smile on his face was Rabbi Mendel Cunin. He greeted me warmly and said, “Good Shabbos Steve. I looked out the side window and saw you walking briskly to Shul. Isn’t it a wonderful day for a good Shabbos walk?” Thinking of Des I said, “It was a good stretch of the legs Rabbi.”
After we concluded the Scharist davening Rebbetzin Sarah Cunin treated us to a sumptuous Kiddush. While munching on herring, a thick, steamy chulant and assorted other delights, Rabbi Cunin asked me to talk about my walk through the early morning frost. I related my story about my good friend Des and everyone marveled at his dedication. At the conclusion of the Kiddush I said Good Shabbos to one and all and made my way back up the hill.
I quickly found that walking down a two-mile hill is much easier than walking up a two-mile hill. Thanks to the spirit of Shabbos and my inspirational friend Des’ example, I eventually made it home. About two months later I was leaving Shul for my walk up the hill when a friend from our minyon stopped me and asked if there were any houses for sale in my neighborhood. I told him there were a number of very nice ones available at the moment. I reminded him that I lived about two miles away. He said that didn’t bother him and if he found the right place we could walk to Shul together. I wished him Good Shabbos and started up the hill.
As I made my way along the meandering streets that would eventually lead to my home, I marveled at the series of events that had recently transpired. A “chance” opportunity to drive a buddy home after a weekend of celebration and joy had, by its example, inspired friends and strangers thousands of miles away. Of course if you asked Des, he’d shrug it off and remind you that it’s nothing special, “Just a good stretch of the legs!”
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