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Our 24th Year, a Time for Togetherness
This coming year, Chabad will be celebrating its 24th year in El Paso. But there are so many things to reflect back upon, so many milestones we've achieved, that it's difficult to select any one thing above the rest.
So instead of reflecting on one thing, or the top ten things, let's rather focus on everything together—more specifically, bringing everyone together.
You see, every letter in the Hebrew alphabet has a numerical value: Aleph is one, Beis is two, Yud is 10, Kaf is 20 and so on. It is therefore quite interesting that the Hebrew adjective for "together," b'yachad, is spelled with the four Hebrew letters Beis, Yud, Ches and Baled—whose collective numerical value is... 24.
So this year, my friends, our 24th year, let us set our goal as bringing everyone b'yachad: together.
Our mission, our theme, our thrust and drive this year will be Jewish unity: working to accomplish together great things that we could not accomplish alone. For that is what drove us to this day, and that is what doubly will propel us forward.
Looking back at our first days in El Paso, we remember how the Lubavitcher Rebbe's vision of a Chabad center in El Paso was seen by many as not too long-reaching.
I personally remember finding among the community members some European and Russian Jews who somehow ended up in El Paso of all places after WWII. These elderly men and women, scattered all across the city, one here, one there, had one thing in common besides their age and origin: When I arrived, they all gave me looks that essentially said, "When hair grows on my palms, you'll succeed."
Today, tragically, some are not physically here, but if they were still with us, they would see that we're still here—and buoyantly, hopefully and happily so. And with each new year, we've had to reach deep within ourselves to elicit new commitments. It is those commitments that have carried us forward all these years, ever inspiring, ever empowering, and ever uncovering new wellsprings of energy. But these power-packed commitments are like the blessings G-d Himself gives us at Rosh Hashanah: They are not for our mere enjoyment but rather, to be used as tools, as vehicles, to bring us to deeper and higher things. The same thing applies, my friends, to Chabad of El Paso's 24th birthday—the birthday of an organization that exists not to benefit itself but to help others. We are not here for ourselves. We are here for you.
Thus, my friends, Chabad declares that this new year's mission will be to help others, include others, and think of others—to be b'yachad: together. Because, ultimately, the ultimate act of helping, including and giving to the other is being in a state of b'yachad with the other. It's really as simple as that. And when we are truly b'yachad, together, then we elicit G-d's Blessing of "kulanu k'echod," or all of us as one. My friends: Let us commit ourselves this year to this ideal, and may our unity and togetherness usher in the geulah ha'amitis v'hashleimah, the true and complete redemption, speedily in our days, amen! |

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Our
Visit to Israel
Recently I went home.
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Chief Rabbi of Israel
Rabbi Yonah Metzger
Rabbi Yoseph Levertov Chabad Austin TX, Rabbi Schneur Greenberg
Commerce, MI,
Rabbi Yisrael Greenberg El Paso, TX
and Rabbi Chaim Greenberg Dean of Yeshivat CRC
Yerushalayim
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My youngest sister, sibling number 17
(a number whose Hebrew equivalent spells the word “Tov”,
meaning good), got married back in Israel.
The wedding was a sight to behold: Children and
grandchildren from all over the world, together for a family
event. The joy
was indescribable.
Chana and I, and five of our children, stayed in Kfar Chabad,
the village established by the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe,
Rabbi Joseph Isaac Schneersohn in 1948 as a haven for
Holocaust survivors and Chasidim from Russia.
This beautiful hamlet, established by the hard work
and idealism of its first settlers who physically
constructed their own homes in an empty field, is now home
to 3,000 families.
Surrounded by hostile Arab villages, their sacrifice and
commitment spanned generations: Today, children run freely
in Kfar Chabad’s peaceful streets.
Today, young families have an oasis amidst the hubbub
of modern Israeli life in which to live, study and pray in
tranquility.
Naturally, we visited the Kotel, Jerusalem’s legendary
Western Wall—the last standing remnant of the second Holy
Temple.
The emotional impact of this seeming relic cannot be
understated.
For two thousand years, Jews have been praying for an end to
exile at the foot of the Wall. For the Wall to be under
Jewish control, under a Jewish government with Jews safe in
their land is a profoundly powerful thing.
Despite the fact that it was the middle of the week, the
Kotel plaza was jam-packed with Israelis, visitors from
foreign countries like Russia, Brazil and Argentina, and, of
course, plenty of tourists, including those from good ol’
Texas—us.
Understandably, one feels a rainbow of emotions upon any
visit to the Kotel, but this time, the feeling was that we
are not a newborn nation—we are tied to this place for the
past 3,000 years.
From the day King David bought this Jerusalem
mountaintop from Aravna the Jebusite to build a house for
G-d—the Beit Hamikdash that was later built by his son
Shlomo—the Temple Mount has been our and only ours.
Touching the stones, writing a petition to insert
into the cracks, requesting a blessing for the family and
the entire Jewish community in El Paso, makes you fill good.
It gives you the sense that Someone is listening,
that Someone cares.
It is a place to pray, to ask and to complain, because our
Father in Heaven is listening—and when you come to His home,
He’s there.
Just knock on the door.
Touring around Jerusalem, our family learned more about the
Old City. We
saw the mountains surrounding the ancient city, and the
encroaching villages of neighboring Arabs that want to
swallow it up.
And the question came up: Such a small city and everyone
wants a piece of it!
A highlight of our trip was visiting the Ashkenazic Chief
Rabbi of Israel, Rabbi Yonah Metzger.
As the Jewish State, Israel respects historical
Judaism by including two Chief Rabbis in every
government—one for Jews of Ashkenazic, or European, heritage
and the other for Jews of Sephardic, or Middle Eastern,
tradition.
Together with a few of my brothers, I was privileged to
visit Rabbi Metzger, who welcomed us very warmly and was
delighted to learn that 13 brothers and sisters of the same
family are shluchim of the Rebbe around the world in places
he had visited.
The Chief Rabbi showed much interest in the small Jewish
communities in the States, and, while he expressed concern
about continuity, also expressed amazement at the Rebbe’s
vision of securing the Jewish future.
While in Israel, we visited Jerusalem, Haifa, Miron, Bnei
Brak, Lod, Beitar Elit and Safed.
Wherever we went, we felt one thing: Belonging.
We felt at home; the people, our brothers and
sisters. There
was a great sense of unity.
The highways and streets in the cities are like those
in the U.S. the small towns are very crowded but people
don’t complain.
People are happy to be together.
We ate in glatt kosher restaurants.
You would think that only the religious people would
come there, but there are respectful secular people who
specifically opt for kosher food.
Everyone at the restaurant feels like family and
joins in the conversation.
When it comes time to leave Israel, you don’t want to leave
home. But you
have to, and you hopes are to be back soon.
For our children, it was their first trip to Israel, but
hopefully, only the first of many.
Now back in El Paso, when we’re praying three times a
day, “May our eyes see the return of G-d to Zion”
our children now know where Zion is.
May we all merit seeing the return of the entire Jewish
nation to the Land of Israel, together with Moshiach, Amen.
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