Temecula Community?

For the past six years, Natanya and I have been searching for the recipe to build a community. We’ve tried many things: large events, intimate events, minyans, community meals, Jewish Business Networking meetings, introducing people to each another, among other things. Our success in community building thus far has been limited, but I think we may have cracked the code a few weeks ago.

Sometimes we wondered if our mission even includes building a community. Chabad has 6,300 rabbis across the globe, and no two are the same. Each Chabad is locally managed and funded, and adapt to the needs and dynamics of the cities they live in.

Some Chabad's have large and very interconnected communities, and some, even after many decades on the job, continue to do the amazing work of reaching out to one Jew at a time, without ever building a community.

Speaking of which, what does community actually mean?

I’ve been taught that the Jewish people are like one body, each Jew being an individual body part. Just as each body part has its own unique identity, the body itself has an identity which is more than the accumulation of its parts.

Each person exists as an individual, but they also exist as part of their family unit. Just like an individual is an entity, family is an entity of it’s own. So too, a community is when the many individuals gain a new dimension and become one unit, like a family.

This idea explains why community building is such an ambitious goal. Sometimes I want it more, and sometimes I wonder if it’s even necessary for our work here. At the end of the day; however, I know in my heart that I truly yearn for the many people we have become close to in our six years in Temecula to morph into a new unit and become a community.

The glimmer of light was the shalach manos Purim bags deliveries. Natanya hit a home run with the project, but it was thanks to the 30 volunteers who spent hours of their time giving to others that really brought it home. I received calls from back east from a woman who’s blind mother was touched to the core that someone thought of her, especially during this lonely Covid time. Another fellow left his car running while dropping off the package at the door, only to return to his car still running 30 minutes later after a heartening outdoor conversation with the couple he delivered to.

The key is giving and receiving. This exercise allowed these wonderful volunteers to become givers. They gave of their time, their smiles and their heart to make someone else know that we care about them. The receivers are also important. As I once heard at the funeral of a homeless beggar who used to frequent my father’s shul and was found dead in his car. The rabbi declared, “Freddie was a holy soul. He brought out kindness in all of us.” Without a receiver, there can’t be a giver.

This beautiful dynamic over Purim created a magic that I have not felt in all the six years we’ve been here, and it’s a good feeling. A very good feeling.

Thank you to all the givers and thank you to all of the receivers and most of all, thank you to you, because together, a community is starting to bud.