We were exiting Restaurant Depot when I spotted the small silver hatchback car to my left. Remember, this warehouse-type store is only open to those with a business or non-profit account, and most things are sold in bulk quantities, so most vehicles are minivans, cargo vans or pickup trucks.
I had a rough day. We were in and out of a bunch of stores that day, mostly unsuccessful. My confusing indecision was kicking in (it usually does by expensive purchases of things we need to use on a regular basis) and I had a hard time not only with the decision itself but my inability to make a decision was adding to that stress.
And then the guy popped out of the small hatchback car. He was of middle-eastern appearance. He reached out his hand, and told me enthusiastically, “Thank You! Thank You! Thank you for helping me find the apartment.”
I looked at him and had no memory recall. Find him an apartment!? This must be a case of mistaken identity. But he insisted, “Remember, I came by with my wife and two children, and you showed us around town…”
This triggered some recall. (Remarkably when I told this story to my son Moshe, he instantly remembered the whole thing). It was springtime or early summer last year and my son Moshe and I were outside doing some yard work over at the old Shabbos House. A man (this man) was walking back and forth on Fuller Road with a wife (dressed in a hijab) and two small children. He looked lost and needed help. It turned out that he was an incoming graduate student at UAlbany, they were from a foreign country and looking for an appropriate apartment for their young family.
How can I explain him where to look for an apartment? So, I told him, you know what, I have some time now, let’s get into my car and I’ll show you around town where some decent apartments are. And regrettably I didn’t tell Raizy or take my cellphone, but pulled out of my driveway in the minivan with this family and my son Moshe. Raizy got some garbled frantic message from one of the kids that I drove off with a Muslim family in the car, and being without my cellphone with no way to reach me that worried her for a bit.
Meanwhile we drove around town for a while, showing them around this place and that. He took down notes, consulted with his wife, and then I dropped them off somewhere and that was that. I forgot all about it. But this guy didn’t forget! He was very grateful in our brief exchange outside Restaurant Depot and told me which apartment he had taken and that he and his family are well. (He also told me that I was lucky to have such a nice wife!)
This happened one week before Passover this year, so it reminded me of a teaching of the Rebbe (that we included in our “Haggadah Tweets” in brief):
On Passover night, a few steps into the Seder, after we make Kiddush and drink the first cup of wine, wash our hands and dip the vegetable and split the middle Matzah, we make this welcoming declaration: “All who are hungry let them come and eat! All needing a Passover Seder, come sit with us!” It’s beautiful, sensitive and thoughtful. But wait, asks the Rebbe. Why say this invite now, behind closed doors, with the Seder already underway? Shouldn’t we make this invitation a week or two before Passover, maybe at the synagogue or online? The only people hearing this invite now are those already at the Seder!?
The Rebbe explains that there’s a physical invite and an emotional invite. The physical invite must happen earlier. We ought to reach out to friends, relatives, acquaintances well before Passover to see if they’d like to join us at the Seder. But at the Seder itself another invite takes place. Its common that people at the Seder may be physically present, but aren’t fully there. Their hearts and minds may not be into it. How can someone celebrate liberation if they feel trapped in a negative relationship? How can someone feel free if they feel limited and choked in their career? Indeed, all of us, how can we celebrate redemption when we find ourselves in exile?
So this Seder invite is for us. Yes, we are at the Seder table, but the Haggadah encourages us, invite yourselves to get into it! Yes, we too, can experience some degree of freedom if we try. And as the invite passage includes, “this year we are slaves, next year free men!” The Haggadah and the Passover experience, if we put ourselves into it, will help us reach that goal.
Back to the story above. Last year, I extended to this man and his family a physical welcome. I drove him around, help him acquaint himself with a foreign land. This year, he gave me the emotional welcome. I felt down and upset, I was stressed out. His warm, enthusiastic appreciation that brought back a forgotten encounter was uplifting and encouraging.