SITTING DOWN WITH THE FOUR WISE SONS

Beis Moshiach spoke with four men who lived through exciting adventures and challenging times, about their lives and how they became Chassidim of the Rebbe.

The Chabad community in Tzfas is one of the oldest and largest k’hillos in Eretz Yisroel. It was founded by R’ Aryeh Leib Kaplan along with additional shluchim who came to strengthen the Chabad presence in the city and to restore its glory. The shluchim founded Kiryat Chabad along with schools and organizations of Torah and chessed for all ages. These institutions have earned a sterling reputation and many Lubavitchers around the world were educated there.

One of the outstanding features of the k’hilla in Tzfas is the high percentage of baalei t’shuva. We met with four members of the k’hilla, of different ages and different professions, and asked about their life stories, how they came to Lubavitch and how the Rebbe and Chassidus impacted them.

The first is Nissim Ben Chaim, an artistic soul, a musician and painter, who previously performed in musical groups in Eretz Yisroel and abroad. Today he composes and plays holy music. The second is Shachar Shoshani, a veteran of a crack combat engineering unit whose life was saved a number of times which led him to ponder the meaning of life. He is today the owner of the wine company Yekev Shoshani. The third is Yitzchok Kuby who spent years in India with gurus until his soul woke up. Today he is a lawyer in Tzfas. The fourth is Mordechai Abrahamov, a former member of an elite naval unit who knew nothing about Judaism, not even about Yom Kippur. Today he is a practitioner of Chinese medicine.

CHAIN OF MIRACLES

I first want to hear about your backgrounds before hearing how you came to Lubavitch and what motivated you to make this step.

Nissim Ben Chaim: I was born and raised in Haifa by Moroccan parents. We had a traditional atmosphere at home and for a short while I was even sent to the vocational school in Kfar Chabad. My father was one of the highest ranked boxers in the country, but from a young age I was drawn to music. I was sent to a dormitory at a very young age. At first I was in the agricultural school Kfar Galim. From there I went to the technical school of the air force and studied in the track for aeronautic electronics.

When I became of draft age, I was drafted into the armored corps. Upon completing my army service, my interest in music had me playing my first instrument, a mandolin. Later, I bought an electric guitar and began performing at clubs for young people. I specialized in jazz and blues. At a certain point, we had a band which appeared every night at a blues club that opened in Haifa. When I felt that the city was too small for my ambitions I decided to leave the country. I went to Scotland where I studied acting in a school for the arts.

During my stay in Britain, my older brother, who lived in Colombia, called me and invited me to join him in a successful textile venture that he started. I went but quickly left the business preferring to perform at clubs in Bogota. We brought a new style of music to the city and many young people liked us. The media also took an interest in us. We performed and were hosted at many events. One of the attractions of our band was singing while drawing.

I lived in Colombia for six years. At a certain point, I lived in a distant village where I wanted peace and quiet and where I opened a restaurant. However, with the same speed that I arrived in Colombia, I left it, due to attacks by rebels who were fighting the government. They would sneak in from the forests and attack. Their attacks increased until it became scary, especially for foreigners, to remain in the country.

Upon my brother’s advice, and along with a friend from Haifa, I flew to Philadelphia where I was promised a job in a moving company. In the end, when I arrived, the friend who promised to help me wasn’t there.

I was beside myself. There were no cell phones and Internet. I went to the JCC where I met a woman who went out of her way to help me. She even paid for a room for me at a local hotel for a few days until I would decide where to go. It took me just one day to decide that I was leaving Philadelphia for New York where I would try to enter the moving business.

When I told her I was leaving, she asked me to call her from New York to let her know that I had settled in. I was very moved by her caring for me, just because we were Jews.

When I arrived in New York, I remembered that my brother had told me that Chabad can help me. I immediately headed for Crown Heights where I settled in a bit and then called the woman in Philadelphia to report that I was okay. When she heard my voice she screamed in excitement. It turned out that a few hours after I left the hotel, the hotel burned down and many people died. My life had been saved!

This story made the connection for me with other instances of divine providence that occurred when I was in Colombia. This, along with a strong feeling of exhaustion from my meaningless life, is what led me to remain in Crown Heights. I had arrived in 5750, Shnas Nissim, and my name is Nissim too. I met Chassidim who had become baalei t’shuva before me like Amram Muell and Nissim Solomon, both from the community in Tzfas, who guided me in my initial steps in Judaism and Chassidus. That very first Friday night, when I saw the Rebbe, I knew that this is my place and I quickly became part of the local scene.

I SAW DEATH SEVERAL TIMES

Shachar Shoshani: I was born in Ramat HaSharon to traditional parents. My father grew up in Mea Sh’arim and my mother was a new immigrant from Iran. I have strong memories of my father taking us to his parents in Yerushalayim on Yom Kippur. The atmosphere was uplifting and every year we would walk to the Kosel. But this did not inspire me to strengthen my commitment or to remain traditional, for I considered that quaint and nothing more.

In Ramat HaSharon we lived near fields of berries and from a very young age I loved nature. Together with friends we hiked a lot all over the country. When I became of draft age, I aimed for the top and was drafted into a Special Forces unit – the Sappers of the Engineers Unit (Plugat HaChabala v’HaHandasa) Givati. We began training with thirty-five soldiers and ended with just twelve. Our army service was hard and challenging. Those were the days of the first intifada and we were placed on the front lines of the conflict.

In Lebanon we were also placed at the forward-most post where I experienced the first open miracle I saw in my life. We received intelligence from Shabak that terrorists from Syria were about to attack our post. We prepared ambushes for them in the valley leading to our position but they did not end up coming. This happened a few times until one day, intelligence got a solid tip about a group of terrorists, one of whom himself was a Shabak informer. He marked himself with a sign so we would know not to harm him. The commander decided not to take me along for this ambush and chose a young soldier in the unit instead of me.

All my pleading did not help and I was attached to another team of the deputy commander and we were placed elsewhere. This time, the information was accurate. The terrorists came and the commander led the attack but then his rifle jammed. The terrorists saw this and quickly hid and returned heavy fire. The commander and four friends were killed, including that young guy who had replaced me in the job of handling the grenade launcher. All the soldiers in the unit took this hard, and it affected me even more, for I knew that if I had not been replaced that would have been my fate.

This incident and other incidents, like the ambush we made in Sh’chem where we were hit from behind by a Molotov cocktail which miraculously did not harm us, or another instance with a reserve soldier, Amnon Pomerantz, who got stuck with his car in a refugee camp and was lynched before our eyes but we could not help him, caused me and the other soldiers to think about the meaning of life.

A few months later I felt stifled and left the country with a friend for the Far East. When we arrived in Nepal before Pesach 5752, we met two young Lubavitchers who were preparing for the seder and we helped them.

The truth is they didn’t know what they were doing, and my friend, who was a certified chef, took over the cooking and I took responsibility for the logistics. About 1000 tourists showed up and we took care of the gashmius while the bachurim took care of the ruchnius. This wasn’t my first encounter with Chabad’s work. I had met Lubavitchers a number of times while in the army.

From Nepal we continued to Delhi in India and every afternoon we would eat in a restaurant that served Israeli food. One day, I met an Arab eating there and since I know Arabic, we got into a friendly discussion. How bizarre it was when, before he left, he put his hand on my shoulder and said: If I could kill you, I would do so now without hesitation.

The next day, we ate at the restaurant again. It was a very hot day and I begged my friends to go up and eat on the roof with me. Just a few minutes passed and a strong blast shook the restaurant and fatally injured tourists from several countries who were eating there. It turned out that the Arab I had met the day before had placed an explosive under the table where we usually sat. I shudder at the thought of what would have happened if we hadn’t gone up to eat on the roof. Miraculously, no Jews or Israelis were hurt in the attack, even though this restaurant is usually full of Israeli tourists and caters specifically to this clientele.

My mother, who heard about the attack, urged me to leave India, which I did, and I flew to Australia. When I arrived there, I knew I wanted to make a significant change in my life. I had seen enough miracles and felt they were a clear sign that I had to make a change.

In Sydney I met the Rebbe’s shluchim and thanks to them, I attended Shabbos meals and began going to shul. My t’shuva process intensified after I became friendly with two bachurim, Yosef Ginsberg and Shlomo Raskin, who did great work with Israelis. I returned home when my father asked me to and became partners with him in a successful mini-market, but when I felt that this was hindering my spiritual growth I decided to leave. Upon R’ Ginsberg’s advice I went to learn in the yeshiva in Tzfas.

THE LOST YEAR IN INDIA

Yitzchok Kuby: My parents were both teachers and until I was ten we lived in Kiryat Shmoneh with an idealistic sense of mission. Our home was completely irreligious. Although my father grew up in a traditional home, the only religious precept we adhered to was that we walked to shul for N’ila. I remember that when I was a child my father said to me, “You should know that the sages of the Torah were the wisest of men.” There was a feeling of admiration for Judaism but this wasn’t expressed in any way.

When I became of age, I was drafted into the navy. In the meantime, my parents moved to Yerushalayim. After I completed my army service, I studied law at Hebrew University. I remember that all my life I was searching. These thoughts distracted me and I tried pushing them away. At university, I was known as someone who partied. I would go with friends and have a good time, but when I returned home in the early hours of the morning, I would be hit by a strong sense of emptiness, a lack of inner satisfaction.

I had everything. I was excelling at school, I would grade the work of other students, I wrote in the university’s newspaper, but all that was superficial. I knew that my life was not heading in the right direction.

When I graduated, I decided to postpone my internship and to travel. I wasn’t thinking about Judaism because back then Judaism wasn’t even on my radar. It always seemed to me that if there was spirituality in the world, it wasn’t to be found among the religious Jews who seemed to live according to irrational rules. The chareidim appeared to be the most delusional people on the planet. So I went to India in the hope of finding spirituality.

The first workshop I took was a silence workshop, after which I stopped smoking after eleven years of smoking. This felt like a step in the right direction and I spent the next year travelling all over India, visiting monasteries and ashrams. I read a lot and meditated. I met an Indian guru, connected to him, and was supposed to travel on foot with him for three months from north to south. At that point, I was convinced that I had to leave material life which I found suffocating, for the purpose of experiencing a life of simplicity and poverty. In this way I hoped to find happiness. When I told my parents about the journey, they were horrified.

Before I had gone to India I had arranged for a delay of the internship I had lined up with a law firm in Tel Aviv. My parents convinced me to stand by my word and commitment. I remember standing at the payphone waiting for a call from my parents in which I would tell them that I was staying in India indefinitely. For some reason their call was delayed and later on they told me they had tried calling but their call was answered by a pizza store in India. This was divine providence because while waiting for their call, I thought things over.

I thought, maybe I should return home after all, for if Indian teachings were correct, I ought to integrate it into everyday life and not run away from it. When the phone connection was finally made, I said okay. I arrived at the law offices for my first day as an intern looking like a backpacker who spent the year in India, with long hair, and shirts that bore motifs and images of idols.

I rented an apartment and by divine providence there was a shul of the Vasloi Chassidim, from the Ruzhiner line, on the first floor. At first, when they invited me to attend shiurim, I contemptuously declined. It was obvious to me that they were living according to rules established millennia ago without understanding what they were doing. Later on, a roommate brought me a book called The Empty Chair from the teachings of R’ Nachman.

For the first time I realized I was mistaken and that Judaism has plenty of spirituality. Some weeks later, again by divine providence, a young guy with a guitar was standing in front of the shul and he began playing and telling stories about the Baal Shem Tov. I heard him and loved it and I became a regular visitor there.

In India I came to realize that there is a Creator. You see wonders of nature there, mountains and rivers, and realize that there must be someone in charge. It was only now that I began to internalize that there is great truth in Torah and mitzvos. I decided to put on t’fillin. At the entrance to the office tower where I worked, there was always a Lubavitcher who put t’fillin on the people going in and out. Whenever he asked me I would refuse, but now, when I finally decided to put on t’fillin, he did not show up for a few days. I was looking forward to seeing him!

When he came back to his post, I was thrilled and I put on t’fillin while trembling with emotion. It was Elul and he also blew the shofar, which only intensified the flood of emotions that I was feeling. When I went up to work, it was hard for me to go into my office, so I sat in the cafeteria. My colleagues were sure I didn’t feel well.

At that time, a good friend who had studied at Hebrew U with me, had become interested in Judaism in India and went to Yeshivat Daat in Rechovot. When we met he gave me a Chitas as a gift.

A shidduch was suggested to me but I had no idea how shidduchim work in the religious world. When I called that friend, he said, “You write to the Rebbe through the Igros Kodesh.” In order to do so, I went to the yeshiva where he learned. I thought the books were only in his yeshiva. I wrote and opened to an answer and got married.

Before the wedding, I spent a few months in yeshiva. The moment I walked into the beis medrash, I knew that this is the place I was yearning for all my life. The Ahavas Yisroel that I felt in yeshiva I found nowhere else and the bachurim walked around with smiles on their faces.

WITH A CAMERA IN SHUL ON YOM KIPPUR

Mordechai Abrahamov: I was born to a Jewish family in the northern Caucasus. The Jewish community there was very small and we constantly suffered from anti-Semitism and bullying. I was the only Jew in my grade at school and I was marked. The incident which was the final straw was when during a carpentry class I got into an argument with a kid and he promised, “We’ll meet at recess.” I knew I could beat him but when I went outside, I met the entire class. Even those I thought were my friends had turned on me and wanted to hit me. I stayed home after that.

I knew nothing about Judaism and there was no one to explain it to me. The only thing I knew was that I am Jewish and we Jews are very smart, which is why I excelled in class and they all hated me. I remember that my grandmother would bring me matza once a year and I thought it was some kind of cracker. The incident in school as well as other incidents prompted my parents to make aliya.

Twenty-two years ago, when I was twelve, we left and settled in Netanya. We had a very hard time acclimating but we overcame the difficulties. When I became of draft age, I was drafted into an elite naval unit where I served for six years. I can’t say anything about it since it’s classified. I can only say that it was challenging and that I lost some close friends.

When I was discharged from the army, I felt that I had to find myself. In the army I had been through things that made me think a lot about the meaning of life.

I knew nothing about Jewish tradition and in order to quiet these thoughts, I registered for a course in photography. Every month, the students had to present their work, with each student focusing on subjects close to his heart. Since I was seeking answers to all those questions that were on my mind, I sought out the deepest dimensions of life. I chose to photograph groups of surfers as well as groups of young “punks” and “freaks.”

One month I decided that my next subject would be synagogues. I got up early in the morning and went to a shul that was near where I lived, but when I started taking pictures, they chased me out and said I was disturbing them. The same thing happened in other shuls but I did not give up and continued looking for a place that would let me take photos. Then I went to the Chabad shul - MaMoSh. From previous experiences I knew that someone led the prayers and all followed him. I decided to approach the chazan and ask him permission to take pictures.

I met R’ Eliyahu Turgeman learning with children and waited patiently until he finished. Then I asked him permission. He was friendly and offered me a drink of coffee or tea. Considering how I was treated in the other shuls I had visited, I was taken aback by this pleasant treatment. He was a nice man and we sat down to talk. I asked him what Judaism is and what the difference is between Ashkenazim and Sephardim. He patiently answered all my questions in detail.

Of course he let me take pictures and he invited me to come to the shul whenever I wanted, and not just to take pictures for a project.

The next time I went with my camera to shul was on Yom Kippur, minutes before N’ila. I was an ignoramus and did not know anything about this day. Instead of chasing me out, people covered themselves with their talleisim and R’ Turgeman, who was the chazan, realized that something was going on behind him. He turned around, came over to me, and asked me to wait until he finished davening and then he would let me take pictures.

So I waited and the wait brought me back to Judaism. I looked around me and my heart began to melt. I felt that something was happening within me and a change had to take place. Indeed, within a short time, I left my photographic studies and began going to shul regularly, attending shiurim and t’fillos. I acquired a kippa and tzitzis and felt that I had found what I was looking for. I had finally found relief from that sense of searching that had given no rest to my soul.

WHY CHABAD?

Each of you went through an incredible journey. The first question I have is, why Chabad?

Nissim Ben Chaim: When I was in New York, I visited different communities, wanting to know the difference between them, but my neshama went with Chabad. I was drawn to Chabad niggunim and felt that Chabad has everything. There were k’hillos where I saw simcha, and k’hillos which were serious, there were k’hillos which emphasized middos and those which emphasized learning, those that touched the emotions and those which appealed to the intellect; in Chabad I saw everything.

The moment it became clear to me that I would be a Chassid was when I began learning Tanya.

Shachar Shoshani: I only encountered Chabad and wasn’t exposed to other religious groups. I never had thoughts that perhaps I would like another group. I remember that when I would go to my grandfather’s house in Raanana as a bachur, he would ask me why I don’t have a tallis. The truth is, as Nissim says, I never felt drawn in this direction. Like him, Tanya is what finally did it.

I remember that R’ Ginsberg brought me from Tel Aviv, when I was still running the mini-market, to the 770 building in Kfar Chabad where he was learning in kollel after getting married. Together we learned chapter 19 of Tanya where the Alter Rebbe explains about the candle of G-d and the soul of man, that the flame wants to ascend. Every soul seeks its source and wants to cleave to G-d. This spoke to me; I was excited by this mashal and on the spot I made the decision to make a real change in my life.

Yitzchok Kuby: What attracted me to Chabad is the Ahavas Yisroel I felt there. They don’t just talk about it, they do it. The whole shlichus enterprise, the bachurim who go on mivtzaim, it’s incredible and it spoke to me. You see Chassidim who sacrifice themselves and not just in theory. Those born into Chabad don’t realize how in other groups, people are worried about their own ruchnius before anything else.

Another, deeper dimension is the teachings of Chassidus. The depth in Chassidus, the inner explanation of everything, the understanding that nothing is happenstance, is what attracted me. The final “blow,” as it were, was when I heard Chabad niggunim. I sat in yeshiva in Ramat Aviv and the bachurim sang a niggun neshama and I said to myself that in Chabad Chassidus there is perfection, everything is here, inner and outer depth and even great emotion which is expressed in song.

Chabad encompasses all dimensions of Jewish life - Torah, mitzvos, and niggunim, which provide an emotional angle to our lives.

Mordechai Abrahamov: I knew early on intellectually that Chabad is the Truth, but something in me recoiled from it and I looked elsewhere. I remember that a friend took me to a kabbala center and I got some kabbala books there but I soon felt it wasn’t for me. I would often visit the Chabad House while simultaneously looking in other places. I went to learn in a number of yeshivos with varying styles but didn’t last there.

At the MaMoSh Chabad House in Netanya there was a guy named Nesanel. I asked him to learn Kitzur Shulchan Aruch with me and he agreed on condition that we also learn together the first volumes of Likkutei Sichos.

Every time we finished learning a sicha I felt uplifted but the evil inclination worked overtime with me until Chassidus finally won. One of the Chassidim who davens in the shul, Avi Taub, would say every time he saw me, “Mordechai, you can’t help it, you were born in the Rebbe’s hands.”

To what extent was the Rebbe a direct influence in your journey?

Nissim Ben Chaim: During the months that I was in 770 in 5750, I went for dollars a number of times and received the Rebbe’s blessings. The Rebbe made a big impact on me. His eyes and the feeling that the Rebbe sees far beyond mere mortals is what grabbed me. After a few months when I went back to Eretz Yisroel to see my family they told me about R’ Reuven Dunin the Chabadnik from Haifa, and I began to visit his house and became a regular guest.

Shachar Shoshani: When I was in Australia, they didn’t speak about the Rebbe as is done nowadays; they spoke more about doing mitzvos. When I went to the yeshiva in Tzfas, I understood the concept of Rebbe - Rosh B’nei Yisroel; I understood his role and what he demands of us. It was at that point that I recall experiencing real headway in my t’shuva process. Hiskashrus to the Rebbe gives one kochos while also demanding a lot of avoda.

In my conversations at work with colleagues who are religious but not Chabad, I feel that a Lubavitcher understands things on a completely different, deeper level. This is not meant in an arrogant way, but this is the reality. Those not connected to the Rebbe think differently.

Yitzchok Kuby: I remember that at first I had a lot of questions about the whole topic of Rebbe. They gave me good answers but I got the best answer one day while waiting for a doctor. I wanted to make an appointment but the secretary was talking on the phone to her friend about what they would make for Shabbos and how the children are. I motioned that I was waiting but she continued talking as though I was invisible.

When she finally finished her conversation and tended to me I began to think, from Hashem’s perspective, what was the right thing for her to do?

Maybe that conversation was in the category of Ahavas Yisroel and it was more important? One thing I knew for sure, that if her boss was present she wouldn’t have schmoozed. The same is true about what we were talking about earlier - someone who says he only has Hashem, without a connection to the Rebbe, sometimes finds himself with “lights without vessels,” and he does not necessarily do Hashem’s will. The Rebbe, the Moshe Rabbeinu of our generation, is the boss who oversees the process of putting those lights into vessels. The Torah is given in every generation (and every day) anew. The Nasi is the one who sets the right order of priorities of how to act, to whom to turn to and which mitzvos need strengthening.

Mordechai Abrahamov: At first, for me too, the subject of Rebbe was hard for me to digest. The one who “sweetened the pill” for me was R’ Avrohom Yagudaiev, a shliach in Netanya and now of Moscow. He showed me the warmth of Chabad without being pushy; it was more like “try it, you’ll like it.” Despite that, for a number of years I davened with a Siddur that was Nusach Sefard and I kept Sefard customs. I am from a Sephardic background and this is the way I was supposed to conduct myself. However, I also felt a strong pull toward Chabad, especially to the Rebbe. It was a dilemma and I remember davening at the gravesite of Rashbi in Miron, asking that my eyes be opened and that I find my true path.

A few days later, I met a Chabad Chassid from Tzfas, R’ Kalman Levinzon, who was able to reach my heart. He invited me to join the Chassidus kollel for Russian speakers. Through him, I met the great Chassid, R’ Shimon Diamant a”h. He began teaching me the maamarim of 5659 which left me open-mouthed. Later on, he also taught me sichos of the Rebbe and then I understood that Moshe is truth and his teachings are true.

When I saw such a great Chassid, someone so deep and brilliant, with such simplicity and bittul to the Rebbe, it changed me. After the third shiur, I decided that I wanted to be a full-fledged Chassid of the Rebbe.

ON THE TOPIC OF MOSHIACH

The Rebbe repeatedly said that our generation is the last one of galus and the first of Geula and that we need to publicize the identity of Moshiach. You surely encountered this when you were starting out in Lubavitch. How did this affect you?

Nissim Ben Chaim: I actually saw the Rebbe. Therefore, when they began talking about the Rebbe as Moshiach, I understood what they were talking about. It was obvious to me, even without learning the sichos, that if someone was fit to be Moshiach, it’s the Rebbe.

Shachar Shoshani: I’ll never forget how in Australia they would always sing “zol shoin zayn di Geula.” I did not understand what they were saying; I just understood that they were looking forward to the Geula. I went to yeshiva right after Gimmel Tammuz and it was a hot topic. When you see normal, nice people living with something as their focus, it’s contagious, and it got me too.

I have friends who became frum years ago and joined other groups, who are broken today. They feel there is no inspiration and there’s nothing to progress towards. By us, living Moshiach and the constant anticipation is our “armor” in the face of the hardships that this world presents us with.

Yitzchok Kuby: A baal t’shuva does not understand at first. The talk about Moshiach is like the talk about everything else in Torah which was foreign to us. But when you learn the sichos, especially the D’var Malchus, you see the subject of Moshiach in a clear, deep way. There is nowhere to run! The Rebbe broadly hints that he is Moshiach and says we should publicize it and when you learn and understand it, it brings you even closer to the Rebbe.

Mordechai Abrahamov: I agree with Yitzchok. When you learn Chassidus, your eyes open or rather your perspective shifts. Questions you would have had in your previous world, vanish. Everything changes - the inner chayus of Torah and mitzvos, t’filla, the relationships between people, and consequently, you are more receptive to talking about Moshiach and anticipating his coming. In the end, our avoda to hasten the Geula is through influencing others and correcting ourselves. When Moshiach is at the top of our list of priorities, our work becomes easier. How do we do this? By learning Chassidus.

The avoda that Chassidus demands of us is to instill G-dliness in the world and you do that nicely in your professions. I’d like to hear what each of you does.

Nissim Ben Chaim: I did not abandon music and art. What I do today is a sort of is’hafcha, instilling G-dliness in my work. In the years following 3 Tammuz, we produced some CD’s with songs of Moshiach and Geula.

I work at Ascent where I perform for the soldiers and tell my life story. I do similar lectures with my wife at Chabad Houses and at “Evenings with Chabad” in which we play music interspersed with telling our life story.

I also perform with my children before audiences where Chabad artists don’t usually go, like cultural centers and festivals. Wherever I go, I publicize Elokus and infuse Chassidic content into my songs and music. In recent years, I put a great emphasis on painting and I have groups of kids who are diagnosed as ADD who study with me. I see how art is therapeutic for them.

Shachar Shoshani: For many years, I worked as a mashgiach in vineyards. My job was to certify vineyards for harvesting. I discovered many problems that someone without experience would not notice. I learned the subject well during the many years I worked in vineyards. All my life I’ve felt connected to the earth and nature and eight years ago I decided to produce my own wine.

The secret to wine is in the grapes. We follow the grapes from the moment they appear on the vine. Good grapes equal good wine. We supervise it all from the moment the grape begins to grow. We oversee the vineyards from where we get the grapes until they are actually in the vats. We don’t add any preservatives to the wine and everything is sterile and perfectly clean.

What happens in the big vineyards is that the machine harvests the grapes from the vines and grinds it all. I’ve seen waste get ground up into the mix. Although it’s nullified in the larger amount, we are not willing to have that happen with our wine.

What makes the taste and color consistent are the preservatives and flavors that the big vineyards put in. With us, the taste is different each year; it all depends on the grapes and the fermentation they undergo.

It is also a shlichus for me. Meeting all the people in the industry, the vintners and owners of vineyards, and the owners of factories, is an experience. When they see a Chassid involved with wine, who understands the secrets of wine, conversations develop which quickly move on to questions of faith.

We also make wine with a superior hechsher for Pesach, with no additives. We donate wine to certain Chabad Houses and many of our workers are bachurim who use the money they earn to pay for their trips to 770.

Yitzchok Kuby: A few years ago, we opened a law office with another lawyer. We specialize in real estate, estate law, etc. Our shlichus in this work is the protection we provide for piskei din of battei din. It happens sometimes that the losing side in beis din appeals the judgment in a court, which in recent years has been given the authority to annul decision of battei din under certain circumstances. We specialize in working to prevent this. Our shlichus is, first of all, in providing services to Chabad Chassidim who purchase property, good service, trustworthy and professional with no cutting corners. We are also very particular about following halacha, such as the laws that pertain to the prohibition of taking interest.

There is a lot of shlichus to be done with colleagues. For example, a lawyer from Tel Aviv called me a few months ago and mentioned that she had been in New York. I asked her whether she had visited 770. She surprised me by saying that her good friend who traveled with her took her to 770 where she asked the Rebbe for a bracha to find a shidduch. As soon as she returned home, she found her match and married.

Mordechai Abrahamov: After I got married, I studied Chinese medicine for four years at Michlelet Elima directed by R’ Yuval Asherov. I wanted to be involved in a field that goes beyond the superficial reality of life and that’s how I got to Chinese medicine. Unlike other alternative approaches, it has a logical, scientific basis which has been researched and found effective. Chinese medicine reconnects a person with the true reality of the world, and not the illusions and false ideas created by human beings, which is what has caused many of the diseases of the modern world.

I see people in my clinic and help them reconnect to their inner selves and thus return to their natural healthy state. In my experience, 90% of people’s physical ailments are caused by their mental states. A certain emotion associated with a particular limb is out of balance and this is expressed in illness. A sad person hurts his health, simcha is sourced in the heart, anger is the liver, worries in the spleen. The muscles, for example, are sourced in the spleen and if a person worries too much, he shouldn’t be surprised if he pulls a muscle.

My shlichus is to help people achieve balance within themselves so they can serve Hashem with joy. A person dreams of getting up at five in the morning to learn Chassidus for two hours and then daven and do mitzvos joyously, but he doesn’t have the energy for it. What will happen is that his desire will remain an unrealized dream. If he gets the right treatment and acts in a balanced way, he will definitely have the energy for it.

Do you have a concluding message for our readers?

Nissim Ben Chaim: Every year, I try to compose a song in honor of the Rebbe’s birthday. This year I was unable to do so to my satisfaction and instead of that, I drew the Rebbe in a way that his sweetness and Ahavas Yisroel shine through. My dream is for as many people as possible to connect to this sweetness, to the Rebbe’s endless love. This is how I personally experience and relate to the Rebbe, and I think this is something that should be taught. Even when the Rebbe makes demands, they come from love.

Shachar Shoshani: My dream and hope is to see the Rebbe revealed immediately and giving out kos shel bracha using our wine. When I work every year on making the wine, this is my dream.

Yitzchok Kuby: I am a member in the Derech Chaim movement that R’ Yitzchok Ginsberg of Kfar Chabad founded. We are a number of lawyers whose goal is to write laws that are in the spirit of the Torah, for example, laws that allow one to give preference to a Jewish employee over a non-Jewish one, or to prohibit the sale of land to gentiles because of “lo sichanem.” There’s someone who set up an internet site to coordinate businesses that are seeking to hire only Jews. The Reform movement took him to court for discrimination and we are representing him against them.

The fact that Jews are reaching out to find out what the laws are according to Torah, shows that we are close to the Geula, and we should only see this become stronger.

Mordechai Abrahamov: My passion is to spread the wellsprings. I meet religious Jews who have not yet learned Chassidus, but who are very knowledgeable in Torah. I see how they are lacking since they don’t learn Chassidus, and how much Chassidus can change them. To work with the outside, with soldiers and people from kibbutzim, is important, but we have work that is no less important, and that is to spread the wellsprings within the battei medrash and kollelim too.