A Spiritual Ripple Finds Its Way Home

When I was a young boy I could sit for hours on the shores of Morgan’s Pond in my hometown of Waterford Connecticut watching the dragon flies dart in and out in search of a cool drink as the fish popped to the surface in an attempt to snag a tasty water bug gliding across the pond’s glistening waters. Every once in awhile I’d pick up a pebble and toss it into the pond and watch with fascination as the ripples would cascade across the surface.

It has been many years since I threw those pebbles into Morgan’s Pond, and a long time since I thought about those wonderful, lazy days of my youth. But recently an event occurred that brought me right back to those soothing shores and the ripples that caused such fascination.

One Tuesday I arrived at work and noticed a rather official looking letter on my desk. Opening it with some trepidation I discovered that a Federal agency had decided to audit one of my Human Resources programs. Despite the fact that I run a tight ship I was horrified that the “Feds” were coming into my shop. Although I had never dealt with this branch of government before, I immediately felt like I was guilty of something. I had absolutely no reason to feel that way, but come on, these were the “Feds” and they were coming after me.

Unfortunately for me, the visit was 30 days from the time I received the letter. Thirty days is a verrrry long time when you are dealing with the unknown. As the days and weeks went by I became more and more despondent. In the middle of the night I’d wake up and imagine all kinds of negative scenarios. The people I worked with, the people I lived with and the people I davened with all began to notice my unexplained plunge into despair.

It got to a point where I became clinically depressed and the people that cared about me were extremely concerned. I had never, ever been to such a dark place. About a week before the “visit” my Chabad Rabbi Mendel Cunin sat me down and demanded to know what was wrong with me. I was so distraught that I could hardly get the words out to explain the situation. And in truth, I must have sounded like a raving lunatic because unless you were in my shoes, my concerns just didn’t make sense.

Rabbi Cunin gave me many words of encouragement but I didn’t want to hear them. I mean that’s his job right? He is supposed to try and make me feel better. At least that is what my silly mind was telling me at the time. The Yetzer HaRa, the evil inclination, had a firm grasp on my mind.

The Shabbos before the “visit” I was davening in Shul hardly listening to the Rabbi and barely reading the words on the pages of my siddur. Negative thoughts bombarded my mind about what was going to happen on Monday and the possible loss of my job. Minute after minute, hour after hour, I slid down into a deeper, darker depression.

When the davening was over, I robotically walked over to the tables where the Kiddush was set up and took my regular seat at the table. The herring was passed around, the cups were filled with a little l’chaim and my buddies all engaged in a discussion about that week’s Parsha. After a few minutes of spirited discussion Rabbi Cunin pulled out a copy of N’shei Chabad Magazine and asked me to read a story he’d marked to the gathering. Now I have to tell you, reading a story to my friends, saying anything at all was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. I mean didn’t the Rabbi get it? I was in a very bad place and I had no desire whatsoever to participate in this ridiculous exercise. When the magazine got to me I attempted to pass it to the fellow sitting next to me Mark Edwards. But before I could do so the Rabbi, in a very authoritative voice, insisted that I read it.

In a barely audible voice I began to recite the three page story. It was a story written by gentleman living in Australia who was a Baal Teshuva, a Jew who becomes more observant. The author was sharing his story about his personal spiritual journey. While reading I couldn’t help but appreciate that the Rabbi was trying to boost my spirits with this inspiring tale. However, I was in no mood to hear it. I felt that this gentleman must be a very nice fellow and his story was inspirational, but this was simply not the time for me to hear his story. I had my own problems to deal with.

I completed the first page with a deep sigh and once again tried to pass the magazine to my friend Marc. The Rabbi “insisted” I continued to read. Not willing to make a scene I continued to do so. I finished the second page and thought what the heck I am doing here. These people just don’t understand what I am going through and the Rabbi has me reading this “Rah Rah” story. Does he really think this is going to cheer me up?

I continued on and about half way down the third page I read something so incredible it made me feel like my entire body had suddenly been hit with an enormous electric shock. It was as if my heart had stopped and the doctor hit me with a defibrillator to restart it. I finished the sentence and started to cry. I tried to continue but I just couldn’t utter a word. I sat there stunned and passed the magazine to Marc. This time the Rabbi didn’t say a word. Marc finished reading the article as I sobbed in silence. When he was done the entire congregation was silent as they waited for me to say something. Overcome with emotion all I could do was mumble a thank you to the Rabbi for sharing the story with me.

As the moments ticked by I started to feel better. At the conclusion of the Kiddush I walked outside with my buddies and started my journey home. About 100 yards into my journey up the mountain I started to cry and no matter how much I tried I could not stop. By the time I arrived at my front door and kissed the Mezuzah I was all cried out. As I walked through the front door I felt “different.” I was no longer in that deep, dark place. I was no longer afraid. In fact as the weekend continued I progressively felt better and better.

On Monday morning I got up and davened with a renewed vigor. I wasn’t over confident but I wasn’t afraid either. When I walked through the front door of my office building the gentleman charged with conducting the audit was waiting for me in the lobby. When we sat down in my office, he explained what he wanted to do and what he wanted to see and the process began. Four days later he met with my boss and me and shared that he had found only one small violation and with a small adjustment we could rectify the situation and all would be well.

Stunned, I thanked him assured him the correction would be made, and walked him to the door. Over the course of the next few days we corrected the problem, sent the official notification to the auditor and put the issue behind us. The next Shabbos I was ready to “party” with my boys! I shared the results of the audit, everyone applauded and we noshed on a little herring and said l’chaim.

After numerous “Good Shabbos” goodbyes I began my walk home. As I stepped to the street and headed up Moana Lane my mind drifted back to the pebbles I used to throw into Morgan’s Pond and the resulting ripples I watched with such naïve fascination. I couldn’t help but wonder at what I’d read the week before in N’shei Chabad Magazine that shocked me and guided me out of the darkness and back to the light. The author of the article an Australian named Geoffrey Zygier wrote that his spiritual journey started after he read a story in the L’Chaim newsletter about another fellow Jew, living in Wilmington Delaware. The story titled ‘Grandpa Charlie Would Be Proud’ was written by no one other than yours truly 10 years earlier, shortly after I’d made the first Kiddush of my life at Rabbi Chuni Vogel’s Shabbos table. The mystical pebble G-d helped me toss into the spiritual waters after that first Kiddush generated a Holy Spark that rippled its way through the spiritual waters of the universe for ten long years before finally finding its way back to the “shores” of Rabbi Mendel Cunin’s Shabbos table, in Reno Nevada, on the exact day Shlomo Yakov ben Moishe Pinchus needed it most.

Coincidence…..I think not.

My Haftorah Speech to Reno congregation

A Jewish family had twin boys whose only resemblance to one another was their looks.
If one felt it was too hot, the other thought it was too cold. If one said the radio was too loud, the other claimed the volume needed to be turned up.
Opposite in every way, one was an eternal optimist, the other a doom & gloom pessimist.
Just to see what would happen, on the twins' birthday their father Chaim loaded the pessimist's room with every imaginable toy and game. The optimist's room he loaded with horse manure.
That night the father passed by the pessimist room and found him sitting amid his new gifts crying bitterly.
"Why are you crying George" the father asked.
"Because my friends will be jealous, I'll constantly need batteries, and my toys will eventually get broken."
Passing the optimist twin's room, the father found him dancing with joy in the pile of manure. "What are you so happy about Shlomi?" he asked.
To which his optimist twin replied, "There's got to be a pony in here somewhere!"
True it is an old joke but it really exemplifies part of this week’s parsha.
Here were the Jewish people, who only days before had witnessed the greatest miracles in the history of mankind and they were whining and complaining in the desert. They had seen the 10 plagues destroy the will of their oppressors in Mitzriem; they had seen a glorious cloud-like column protect their rear guard from the Pharaoh’s soldiers during the day and a miraculous column of fire by night. They’d seen the sea literally open up in front of them, they’d walked across the dry ocean floor and then they saw the waters thunder down upon their adversaries, drowning all but Pharoh. They’d stood before Sinai and heard the awe-inspiring voice of G-d himself. They’d seen Moses descend from the mountain with the 10 Commandments, not once but twice. They witnessed food literally raining down from heaven to sustain them and help them thrive during their journey.
And yet despite all of these miraculous events, there still were a handful of naysayers who complained that they were better off under their brutal task masters in Mitzrayim where they were beaten, violated and killed, all because at least as slaves they had fresh meat and fish to eat.
At one point in the Torah G-d says to Moshe Rabbeinu that we are “a stiff necked people.” Over and over again throughout the Torah we see evidence of this disappointing character flaw. Yet despite this flaw, we as a people, one of the smallest groups in history, have had a wondrous impact on mankind. Despite our small numbers, our people have been awarded over 80 percent of all the Noble prizes for science ever presented, we’ve found the cure for countless numbers of deadly diseases and we’ve given the world a set of laws that the most powerful nations on earth have used as the basis for their own secular legal systems.
Like our ancestors who stood in the desert so many thousands of years ago, we too are at a crossroad here in Reno. We are about to embark on the next phase of our incredible journey when we move to the new Shul two blocks from here. But like the Hebrews in the Torah who stood in the desert and complained about the lack of meat while miracles abounded around them, we too as a congregation sometimes sit around, focusing on trivial issues while surrounded by our own miraculous events.
Please allow me to share what I believe are the 10 miracles or Chabad of Northern Nevada. One for each year the Cunins have been here in Reno.
1. After spending 20 years learning from, and being inspired by, the Rebbe in Crown Heights, a fuzzy faced young Rabbi named Mendel Cunin was asked by his uncle in Los Angeles to create a Chabad House right here in Reno. A place where generations of rabbinical students had spent their summer vacations looking for elusive Jews in this western frontier town. Chazzan Paul Katz and I met many of these now esteemed Rabbis at the Chabad World Convention last year in New Jersey. And each of them marveled that such a thing could be accomplished here in Reno where during their numerous past visits they saw more cows than Jews.
2. A few years latter a young Sarah Lender accepted Rabbi Cunin’s invitation to become his wife and Rebbetzin of Reno and their lives as a spiritual leadership team began.
3. Without a penny in the bank the Cunins orchestrated the building of one of the most beautiful Mikvahs in the world. A building that is in constant use by locals and visitors alike.
4. The first few members of the original congregation grew tired of davening in the Cunin living room and decided to take an open air carport and build a small but spiritually charged sanctuary for the four or five men who showed up regularly to daven on Shabbos. I ask you to look around and marvel at what a few committed souls accomplished many years ago.
5. Several years later we witnessed the arrival of the triplets followed by their sisters and brother and their mere presence energized and captivated the attention of our entire community.
6. Next, a young or maybe not so young doctor showed up and became the Chazzan of Chabad of Northern Nevada; carrying on a legacy that he earned at the feet of Chazzan Boris Fisch, may he rest in peace.
7. Forming a spiritual partnership with the Rabbi and Rebbetzin, Doctor Paul Katz started the first frume preschool in the history of Northern Nevada. A school that today continues to grow and flourish and serve as a beacon of learning for our entire community.
8. Several years later the Rabbi inspired the community to come together to commission the creation of a brand new Torah for the Chabad House, a feat that usually takes new congregations decades to accomplish.
9. And just months ago the Farahi family miraculously and generously made their corporate headquarters on Moana and Clover available, exclusively to Chabad for their new Northern Nevada headquarters.
10. And now just one decade after the Cunins first arrived in Reno, the wonderful people in this room are leading the campaign to accomplish what some folks could only dream about a decade ago and complete what we fondly call
“The Biggest Little Shul in the World!”
These ten miracles of faith have enabled us to be here today, flourishing as a congregation and a community. Yet despite all of these miraculous events we still occasionally find ourselves grousing and complaining about little things. Little things my friends that in the long run just don’t matter. At times we behave just like our ancestors who were surrounded by the greatest miracles in the history of mankind, and either failed to see them or took them for granted.
But just like our ancestors who persevered and overcame their own flaws to set an example of faith and virtue for the rest of the world, we as a congregation are at a crossroads in our own spiritual journey.
Right down the street is a building which one day soon will serve as both a Shul and a school, focused on training the next generation about the history and joys of Judaism.
But it also serves as a much larger metaphor for our entire community. For it is also a spiritual bus station, a station that will one day see a divine bus powered by Mashiac make a brief stop in Reno to pick us up and take us all to our promised destination in Eretz Yisroel.
So the question each of us has to ask ourselves is simple. Are we going to ride that spiritual pony at a full gallop to the bus or our we going to continue to focus on the non important aspects of life that pile up on us like so much manure, paralyzing us spiritually so it is more challenging to make our way to the bus.
I say we take a moment to appreciate the joyous miracles surrounding us, our beautiful, growing congregation, and the entire Cunin family as we prepare our spiritual bus station, filling it with Torah mitzvahs, educating our children and inspiring our fellow Jews so Mashiac will arrive here soon and take us all to a world of perpetual Shabbos in the land of our ancestors.
Thank you and Good Shabbos!