My husband, Rabbi Sassy Carmel, and I have been serving as the Chabad shluchim to the University of Ariel for the past nine years. Located in the Judean hills, there are about 15,000 students here, and thank G‑d, we have seen amazing success.
Every week, we arrange Shabbat meals on campus with anywhere between 70 and 120 students in attendance.
Five months ago, we were joined by Rabbi Shneur and Sheina Lishner. Together, we host these meals, which are also subsidized by the organization Keren Meromim. Thank G‑d, the numbers just keep growing, as more and more students join. There is very little space to spare, but where there is room in the heart, there is always room for one more…
The story of this past Friday night’s Shabbat meals is one for the books.
There was heavy snow in the forecast (something that almost never happens here). Most of the students were planning to go home and escape the nasty weather, so there were just 20 Shabbat reservations.
The Lishner family was planning to sleep over in a caravan near the campus so that they would be able to host the meal as usual. No one had any clue of what was to come.
By 8 o’clock Thursday evening, the snow was falling steadily. We were in the midst of a storm the likes of which we had not experienced in decades. Within hours, everything was covered in a thick blanket of white.
At that point, we realized that many students would be stranded in Ariel, and we doubled our order at the caterer in Kfar Chabad, about 40 kilometers away. Sure enough, the next morning we were barraged by phone calls and emails from students asking to join us for Shabbat.
To complicate things, the university and the surrounding area (including our home) lost power.
By that point, our van was stuck in its parking spot, buried under mounds of snow. For good measure, a fallen tree had pinned it into place. The roads were covered in snow, and there was no way for us to leave Ariel to purchase necessities.
At this point, I’ll let Rabbi Lishner describe what happened next:
By Divine providence, after my weekly class on the Torah portion, I gave one of the employees of the university a ride to his home just out of town. When I tried to drive back home, the snow was making driving very difficult and a five-minute drive stretched into an hour-long ordeal. After a number of attempts, I abandoned my car and drudged home through the snowdrifts. It took an hour-and-a-half.
In retrospect, leaving my car outside of Ariel meant that I was able to use it the next morning to drive to Kfar Chabad to get supplies for Shabbat.
On Friday morning, determined to get food to feed our Shabbat guests—about 75 by now—I started hiking toward my car. It took a long time, since there was a meter of snow on the ground; we live on the highest street in town, which even the tractors are not able to reach.
Thank G-d, by midday, I was in my car driving out of town toward Kfar Chabad.
Meanwhile, more and more students were calling Rabbi Sasson’s cellphone and office, asking to join for Shabbat. Rabbi Carmel suggested that I ask my father to buy extra food—pastrami, bourekas, whatever he could find—knowing that we would have many hungry mouths to feed. We also asked the caterer to send whatever leftovers they had. Money was not an issue.
By the time I arrived, my father had everything arranged. I filled the car and started driving back toward Ariel with two hours left until the start of Shabbat. Normally, the trip takes less than an hour.
Driving was slow, and the minutes ticked by.
Meanwhile, Rabbi Carmel received an alert that the entrance to the city had been closed. All they could do was pray and write to the Rebbe (Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory), asking that everything turn out okay.
Around 10 kilometers away from home, I was stopped by the police, who informed me that they were not allowing anyone to enter Ariel. After I explained that I was bringing food for students, they let me pass. I drove all the way into the city. Just minutes before Shabbat, I managed to pick up Rabbi Sasson and hurry over to the campus.
The snow blanketed the Univesity of Ariel campus.Upon our arrival, we found 400 students, many of whom had been evacuated from the caravans where they lived due to fear of falling trees and shut-ins. They were huddled together, freezing, confused, hungry, and maybe even a little scared…
Just before Shabbat, Rabbi Carmel and the security officer dashed out to bring disposables and some candles. They did not make it back in time for Shabbat.
Racing against the clock, I took out 50 menorahs I still had in my car from Chanukah, and they served as ad hoc Shabbat candelabras.
We asked everyone to bring tables and chairs from their rooms into the lobby, and began to set up for our Shabbat meal.
We prayed together out loud word for word since there were no prayer books, and it was too dark to read anyway.
Afterward, I stood up on a table and said the Kiddush over a cup of wine for everyone to hear. Due to lack of space, the students ate in shifts. They were incredibly considerate for each other—all of this in darkness and with almost no service ware or cutlery to speak of.
I managed to share a short (and hopefully, uplifting) Torah thought and some familiar Shabbat tunes.
An hour later, I made my way back home on foot, over gigantic drifts of snow.
As you can imagine it was a very stressful experience. Thank G‑d, we were there for the students when they needed us. Shortly thereafter, the university gave the students hot soup and prepackaged warm meals. I should point out that throughout the entire ordeal, we worked very closely with the university faculty and staff to make sure that the students were cared for in the best possible manner.
We hope that the Divinely-orchestrated Shabbat meal for 400 students will be something we will see again. But, please G‑d, under better circumstances, bright lights and less snow.
Join the Discussion