The House of Einstein

The sun has gone away and taken Shabbat with it. In Israel there is a palpable difference between Shabbat and the rest of the week. Aside from all of the shops being closed, there is a serenity that creeps its way into the day of rest. It's a mystical feeling unlike any other.

We had a chance to spend Shabbat in Tel Aviv with our friend Rachel who made aliayah last June. (I thought she lived in Jerusalem so unfortanetely we were in Israel for over a week without making it to the holy city. However, since El Al bumped us to a later flight on our trek out here, we will return within the year and most certainly hit the city which serves as a beacon of hope to billions of people across the globe.) Anyway, we spent the last few hours leading up to Shabbat on the streets of Tel Aviv, gathering food for our Sabbath feast and kibbutzing. And on into Shabbat we learned of Rachel's personal journey to this land -- how she always felt an emptiness in her life until her arrival here. It's amazing to talk to someone who is so at peace with herself. It makes you stop to think how many people lead unfulfilling lives.

Rachel informed Diana how she and I first met. And until hearing her tell the story I didn't realize the impact that our chance encounter had on her. Rachel used to be an admissions officer at, among other places, the University of Pennsylvania. She and I (though we didn't know one another) worked the same recruiting circuit and were in Southern California for a conference about two and a half years ago. Barbara Schultz, the college advisor at Tarbut V'Torah, a community day school in Orange County, approached me with a shyish (I say shyish, although in truth Rachel is incredibly outgoing -- a perfect fit in Israeli socity) looking young woman who needed a place to attend Yom Kippur services. As she tells the story I didn't ask her if she would like to attend services at B'nai Tzedek -- I informed her that she would be attending services and furthermore, she was coming over to our house for dinner prior to Kol Nidre. Rachel thanked me and told me that she wouldn't be much fun to be around because she had just broken up with her besheret. I insisted and the rest is history.

It's only in conversations with Rachel since that time did I come to realize how much of an emotional wreck she was and how much my gesture meant to her. To me, offering your home to someone who is without one for the holidays is second nature. To Rachel, that's Judaism. And I agree.

As she was telling Diana this story and we spoke of how this represents everything that is beautiful in our religion, I couldn't help but think how this fits into the famous story of the person who approached both Shammai and Hillel and wanted to learn the Torah while standing on one foot. I truly believe that small acts can make the largest impact on others' lives.

We are leaving Israel in a few short hours. This land was built on a series of small acts by a few individuals. What a magical place!