A Professor of Bitachon; Chabad at TCNJ and Ewing Part II

Rabbi Kivi and Zeesy Greenbaum, Chabad of TCNJ, Ewing, New Jersey

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By: Chaya Chazan

Betty*, one of our students with a strong Jewish identity, began dating Mitch*. She was a little bothered that he wasn’t Jewish, but he assured her he’d be willing to learn about Judaism and maybe even convert down the line, if that’s what she needed. She urged him to sign up for my Jewish History course and was satisfied when he began attending my classes.

Mitch enjoyed the class more than he thought he would. Even after graduating, he asked if we could continue to learn privately. It felt a bit strange, but I agreed. Over the next couple of years, Mitch and I studied together every week, covering various topics in Judaism, Chassidism, and Jewish philosophy.

One day, Mitch sat beside me, uncharacteristically quiet.

“What’s up, Mitch?” I asked, probing gently.

“I want to convert,” he blurted out.

“Oh. I – uh – I don’t do conversions,” I answered, uneasily.

“Do you have a colleague that does?” he asked, hope affecting his words so poignantly, I had to lower my eyes.

“I think I… may know someone,” I answered evasively.

I thought Mitch would be put off, but he brought it up again and again. Finally, I agreed to put him in contact with my colleague. In the meantime, we maintained our weekly study sessions. Mitch’s earnest interest in Judaism had far outstripped Betty’s at this point, and they went their separate ways.

“What did the rabbi say?” I asked Mitch, after he’d first contacted my colleague.

“He challenged me to keep three consecutive Shabbosim fully. He said after I did that, I could come back and we’d talk.”

“Well, good luck!” I wished him.

“Yeah, I don’t think it’ll be so hard,” Mitch commented, breezily. “I’ve been doing Shabbos at your house for months now! I think I’ve got this!”

“Mmhmm,” I answered, noncommittally. “So, where will you be spending Shabbos this week?”

“Oh.” Mitch hesitated for a minute, biting his lip and looking down. “Uh, I think I’m going to start next week. This weekend, my family is taking a road trip to Utah!”

“Mitch,” I said, gently. “I believe this was the exact point of the challenge. It’s all or nothing! True Judaism doesn’t maneuver its way around your life – you fit yours within the confines of halachah. You have to decide – are you in, or out?”

I could see that Mitch took the point to heart and the full magnitude of his decision finally dawned on him.

To his credit, Mitch found a way to keep Shabbos on his road trip. His parents dropped him off at a hotel on Friday afternoon, and returned to pick him up the next night. He’d successfully completed the first of his three Shabbosim.

Two weeks later, I called to check in on him. “So what’s your plans for the last Shabbos?” I asked.

“Uh, I have to call the rabbi and ask if I can postpone the third one until next week. I can’t do it this week.”

“Mitch, we talked about this! Judaism isn’t something you can just shelve when it’s inconvenient!”

“But it’s my sister’s wedding!” he explained, his voice pleading. “The entire family is heading to a campsite this weekend. It will be impossible to keep Shabbos there, but there’s no way I can miss it! It’s my sister’s wedding!”

“I understand,” I answered, softly. “Then perhaps this is your answer. Judaism might not be right for you.”

Mitch swallowed hard. “This is going to be a nightmare,” he muttered under his breath. “My family already thinks I’m nuts!” He was silent for a few minutes, and when he spoke again, something in his voice had changed. “I don’t know how, but I’m going to do it, Rabbi. Please excuse me. I have about 7,000 calls to make!”

I thought Mitch had reached his breaking point, but to my shock and awe, he managed to pull it off. He spoke with Rabbanim to figure out what he had to do. He built an eruv, packed all his own food, and made arrangements to ensure he could keep Shabbos.

He was euphoric that he’d completed the challenge, and was eager to dive into his conversion journey. He moved out of his apartment and into a yeshiva dorm, acting as a Torah-true Jew for an entire year before finally submitting to the waters of the mikvah and emerging a new man.

Motty*, as he was now called, threw himself into his new life with vigor. He looked indistinguishable from any other chossid walking the streets of Crown Heights. He met a lovely young woman, and they celebrated their wedding with typical chassidishe joy and fervor. After marrying, they even followed the “holy” Jewish custom of moving to Florida!
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We bought our house in 2008, and were excited to begin our career at TCNJ. Just a few months later, the entire housing market crashed, and millions of homes all across America went into foreclosure overnight.

Unfortunately, we were one of those homes.

The crash had left all our usual donors strapped for cash themselves, so fundraising was extremely difficult. And even if we could somehow get hold of the money we owed, the banks were so inundated with calls, they basically shut down the lines. There was no one we could speak with for any guidance on how to dig ourselves out of the pit. Our lawyer threw up his hands helplessly.

As I nailed the boards of my sukkah, I couldn’t help thinking, Will this be our actual home? Will they come tomorrow to kick my children out of their warm beds? What will we do?

On the first day of Yom Tov, I opened a sicha that discussed the message of Sukkos and how thinking positively brings about positive results – tracht gut vet zein gut. The message of bitachon raised my spirits and filled me with hope, and I smiled fully for the first time since we’d learned the awful truth.

As I went about my day, that worry and anxiety took over my brain again, and I sunk into a bog of despondency. The next morning, when I went into the sukkah for my morning coffee, I saw the sefer still sitting on the table, where I’d left it. I felt so empowered after learning it yesterday, I thought to myself. I’ll learn it again.

I reopened the page and read through the short sicha from beginning to end. Again, the wondrous hope and brightness lifted my spirits and buoyed me with joy.

This is my lifeline, I realized. I need to hold onto that bitachon for as long as possible. I’m going to re-learn the sicha every single day throughout Yom Tov.

I learned the sicha over and over, and every time, its message filled me with hope and positivity, for just a few moments. After Yom Tov, I decided to continue the experiment for another week. After learning the sicha 15 times in a row, I knew it almost by heart, but it continued to raise my spirits.

Although I tried my best to “think good,” I couldn’t stop worrying about the future. What would be? I knew they were auctioning off foreclosed houses in Trenton, but there were so many on the market, with no rhyme or reason to which houses were selected, I lived in constant stress that today was the day our home would disappear. It was a small relief to finally find a website that listed which houses would be sold at each auction, and I refreshed the page constantly, always searching for our address on the fated list.

The “tracht gut vet zein gut” experiment continued. Learning the sicha was my small spot of brightness in the haze of worry and doubt, and I read through it every single day for an entire year. I knew every word; every footnote; every proof text.

After a year of re-reading the same sicha, my negativity affected even that hallowed space. Does pure positive thinking actually result in only good results? I questioned. What about my friend, the most positive person I know, who suffered terribly from cancer? What about all the Jews who perished in the Holocaust? None of them ever trusted in Hashem? How am I any more special or privileged than them?

My one respite had become torture instead, and the anxiety continued. I decided I was done with the experiment. I don’t trust Hashem at all! I realized, with sinking despair. But I was so accustomed to my daily learning, I decided to give it one more go – to read through the sicha one more time.

As I read through the words that were as familiar to me as my own face, I suddenly realized I’d been learning the entire sicha wrong all along. I’d been learning it as a treatise on bitachon – an intellectual understanding of why trusting Hashem will bring success. Instead, I realized that the Sicha was a practical guide as to how to develop Bitachon.

With renewed fascination, I reread the sicha every day for the next year. As I studied its words more carefully, I began to see that the Rebbe had laid out a clear and structured path of meditation for developing bitachon. Day after day, I continued learning the sicha, turning its ideas over in my mind and allowing them to build my bitachon, one layer at a time..

In the past, my mind wouldn’t let me envision some miraculous solution to our foreclosure. There were too many justified challenges. Now, the knowledge that Hashem would help us was so firmly cemented in my mind, it seemed impossible anything else could happen.

Checking the website no longer gave me palpitations, but our house did pop up a few times, and each time, it set me on edge. Every time our house was listed to be scheduled for auction, it would mysteriously disappear. It just vanished from the website, only coming up again months later.

For over two years, we lived in limbo, while I worked on my bitachon and remained confident. One day, my lawyer called me to say that next Wednesday, my house would certainly be sold at auction. It just so happened that at that time my closest supporter happened to sell his company and wanted to help our Chabad House. Together with a few other partners, I was able to walk into the Sheriff Sale and buy my house back. mortgage-free this time!

*Names changed to protect privacy