Every Shabbos, in countless areas of the world, the Rebbe’s shluchim host the members of their communities as well as tourists. This happens week in and week out, which is why you won’t read about it anywhere; it’s routine, so it’s not exciting. * A Beis Moshiach columnist visited the Chabad House for travelers in Amsterdam for Shabbos, and tells us of an “ordinary” Shabbos, one full of warmth and fire which melted the surrounding cold European environment.
By Avrohom Shmuel Zalmanov
Amsterdam, an impressive European city built on the water and surrounded by a remarkable belt of man-made canals, attracts numerous tourists all year long. Even the winter doesn’t deter them.
People in coats and scarves bicycle on the streets of the city alongside the famous trolley lines, which can bring you to nearly anywhere. Parents go out with their children to stroll on the canals and a babble of languages can be heard from all around.
When I went to Amsterdam it wasn’t the official tourist season. People who have the option, prefer to visit Holland in the summer and visit the nearby villages and see the magnificent flowers and fields. Nevertheless, tourists from all over the world can be seen everywhere, and there is a Chabad House for tourists that is located not far from the busy tourist center of the city. Even during off-season, you can meet Jews of all kinds.
STORIES BIG AND SMALL
People are used to reading incredible stories about amazing shluchim, about their successes and the enormous changes they bring about. And yet, it is never really possible to measure how influential the shluchim are; you can never estimate the power of one Shabbos in a Chabad House as it affects the soul of a young Israeli who thinks he showed up just to get a free meal. The reality is that between the fish and the steamed vegetables that he eats, the name of Chabad is etched in his heart, and the next time he encounters a Chabad Chassid in Eretz Yisroel who will offer him t’fillin, it is likely that the good taste the Shabbos abroad left in his mouth will make it hard for him to refuse. Between here and there, he will meet up with other shluchim, pile on additional spiritual experiences, and one mitzva leads to another.
It is nice to hear amazing stories about upheavals brought about thanks to the work of the shluchim, or stories about people who changed their lives from one extreme to another thanks to a Chabad House program. But sometimes, the stories are found in the daily grind, like the ordinary folks who thank Chabad for their hospitality before they continue on their way, or those who are amazed yet again by the Rebbe’s vision, by the dedication of his people and by the service the Chabad House offers them everywhere in the world. Sometimes, these small things add up, contributing another brick in the structure of this “lowly realm,” and bringing down the Sh’china into this physical world.
This is the story I choose to share after staying for a few hours at the Chabad House for tourists in Amsterdam.
HOSTING AND
AN ATMOSPHERE
There are two Chabad Houses in Amsterdam, one in the south which is mainly for local residents, and one for tourists which is located within walking distance from the center of town and from the famous Dam Square.
It’s a red-brown brick building in the typical Dutch style. A small sign in Hebrew that says, “Beit Chabad” hangs on the front. The cold out on the street dissipates immediately upon entering.
I walked into the Chabad House for tourists just minutes before candle-lighting on Erev Shabbos and climbed up to the third floor. The first two floors serve as offices while the third floor is where the programming takes place.
The floor is divided into four sections. One section is the kitchen where local workers prepare the Shabbos meals. Another section is a spacious dining room. A third section is the shul with a women’s section and a bookcase full of books, while the entrance hall is a sort of foyer with a couch and chairs around a small, wooden table, where you can sit around and talk.
A few women were standing and lighting Shabbos candles and some men were already in the shul, waiting for the davening to begin. When we started Mincha, there were fifteen men, but when I turned around at the end of Maariv, I was surprised to see no fewer than 65 people, most of them young Israeli tourists but also some hi-tech people and businessmen who live in the city, a few young men from France, and even a Chassidic couple from England who came by car on a short visit.
Four yeshiva bachurim who had finished K’vutza the previous year ran the show. The shluchim daven in other shuls in the city, each with his regular k’hilla, while the outreach to tourists is run by bachurim who come here for a year of shlichus combined with studying for smicha.
A friendly bachur directed everyone to the dining room and made sure each person had a place. Kiddush was recited and fragrant challa was given out. Z’miros were sung and all was well.
Throughout the evening, more and more people continued to come. While one bachur sat with everyone around the table and kept things moving, the other bachurim made additional kiddushim for the guests who continued to show up, and to arrange places and food for them.
The refined Chassidishe chinuch of the bachurim and the fact that they are completely devoted to the visitors without thinking about themselves is impressive and surprising. Where else do you find young men their age who instead of looking out for food for themselves are looking around to see who needs help? Who wants another portion of fish? I am not sure that the bachurim ended up with portions for themselves! Still, this did not divert them from giving each guest personal attention with patience and a smile.
The bachurim did not even have a place at the table, because the tourists filled up the place. I ended up seeing these wonderful bachurim sitting on the side, their s’farim in their hands, jumping up now and then to welcome another guest and arrange a place, while snatching another few lines of Likkutei Sichos. It is only the Rebbe’s chinuch which instills a devotion to shlichus, that produces such wonderful products.
Likewise (and forgive me for going on about this, but I think that the manners of the hosts are one of the things that have a tremendous influence on the guests), the bachurim themselves went around collecting the plates, serving, and throwing the disposables in the garbage. I saw an American father whisper to his son, “These Chabad guys are not snobs. They are taught to care about others.”
Now, back to the Shabbos meal.
TIME FOR ONEG SHABBOS
Between the fish and the main course, the bachur in charge of the meal reviewed a sicha of the Rebbe on the parsha, about the warmth needed to do mitzvos. This is learned from the first plague to break Egypt, the plague in which cold water turned into blood, which by nature is hot and impassioned. I looked around to see who was listening to the d’var Torah, and saw, as expected, that most people were more interested in dipping their challa in the hummus then hearing what he had to say. However, there were some who listened closely to every word. They had come from Eretz Yisroel to Amsterdam and this was the first time they were hearing a d’var Torah from the Rebbe. They listened to how just as they did all sorts of other things with energy and passion, so too it is necessary to be involved in holiness with excitement and enthusiasm.
You could see that those who did listen were affected. The Chassid from England stood out. He listened to every word.
At the end of the meal, everyone bentched together and then came the highlight, the oneg Shabbos. Those tourists who wanted to stay on after the meal were invited to a side table where they all sat together. Shelled nuts and cold beers were served, song books were given out, and each of them was invited to stand up and introduce himself, to say something and choose a song that they could all sing together.
It was really fascinating. Conversations ensued between people from different places and there was a special feeling of unity that would be hard to find anywhere else. Among the people sitting there was the Chassidic couple from London, two businessmen from Yerushalayim, a college grad who had come to tour Europe on his own, a family from the U.S., a pair of friends from Argentina, the Chabad bachurim and a few locals who come to the oneg Shabbos every week. They don’t want to miss the opportunity of sitting leisurely and talking with their fellow Jews.
People soon opened up. One told about his experiences at Chabad Houses in South America. Another, who was a music expert in a broad spectrum of musical genres, spoke about how he is always excited anew over the deep niggunim of Chabad, and how it is clear to him that they come from a place that bridges this world with something from beyond.
“Look,” he said to me, “when a recognized musician composes a song, you can hear in that song his desire to connect to something that can be defined within the parameters of this world. In the song of X you can hear sadness and a yearning for some spiritual lift. In the song of Y you might hear wantonness, and in the song of Z you will find hope, and so on. However, you will never hear in any song a yearning for self-work and self-improvement, or a desire to elevate oneself and reach something beyond. That exists only in the niggunim of Chabad,” he concluded, and began to sing, “Tzama lecha nafshi.”
If you saw this person walking down the street, you would never believe that he has any appreciation for Chassidic niggunim, but here, in the Beis Chabad, the walls come down and deep layers of the soul find their expression.
Each person, without exception, expressed their amazement over the Beis Chabad and the Rebbe. However, the one who stood out was the fellow in Chassidic garb from London, who stood up and asked to say a few words. It was clear that he was a lively character, who enjoyed traveling and seeing new vistas, and apparently was struggling with belonging to a Chassidic sect with a rigid set of communal standards.
“I often try to seek out a special connection to G-d,” he said, to the surprise of all. “Sometimes, I try to seek Him out with a special beautification of a mitzva, with a particular stringency that I might take upon myself, or some other positive resolution. But today, I think that in the special unity that I see here in the Beis Chabad in Amsterdam, I have found that special revelation that I have always searched for.”
A few of the folks gave him an ovation.
The “oneg Shabbos” quickly turned into a farbrengen and mashke was served. The warm and personal atmosphere made me forget entirely about the cold outside, the pretty canals, the rococo brick buildings, and in general the outside world that has a way of beckoning. For that brief period in time, I forgot that I was in Amsterdam, and that I had a long walk back to my accommodations and no clear idea of the directions.
I entered the Chabad House at 5 pm and left at 11:30 pm, with the farbrengen still going strong.
My visit left me with a warm feeling in my heart and a new and boundless love and appreciation for the Rebbe and his shluchim (including the bachurim) overtook the musings of my mind. I have no doubt that this “ordinary” Shabbos, of which there are many hundreds more like it in the thousands of Lubavitch outposts throughout the world that you will never read about, is another step in the process of “spreading the wellsprings” and bringing about the revelation of Hashem in the world.