SAN DIEGO — A year ago, on the eve of the Seder, I was on a mission to bring Passover items to several regional Chabad centers, with the last stop being Chabad of Poway. With a van full of Passover foodstuff that I picked up in L.A. I drove to San Diego in a bid to deliver Seder essentials before the holiday was about to commence. A mechanical malfunction forced me to exit the freeway at about the halfway point between the two cities on the return leg, and just as the vehicle stalled I was able to park, and take stock of the situation: darkness was fast approaching; the foodstuff had to be delivered; I had no idea how to restart the vehicle; I decided to wait it out, and try the ignition one last time before resigning myself to being towed. It worked, though I wasn’t sure if the vehicle was about to stall again, so I painted a picture in my mind that time was of the essence, and it was, the Seder was almost upon us. A coastal Chabad was now the rendezvous point, as I was no longer able to make the rounds without missing the time window for the delivery before the holiday’s start time. A plan hatched. An inland Chabad Rabbi would meet me at the coastal Chabad to pick up the provisions for their Seder, while I would unload the provisions at the coastal Chabad. Final stop was to be at Chabad of Poway, and I would not be making it there before dusk.
As I drove up to the meeting point the rabbi was outside his home awaiting my arrival, and within a minute or two a vehicle pulled into the driveway with the inland Chabad rabbi behind the wheel, accompanied by his oldest son. There was a great rush to get everything in place, first we had to sort all of the food boxes according to each order, then schlep everything inside the shul, or into the rabbi’s car, while making sure that the Chabad of Poway order was left intact. All hands were on deck for this, and rolling up our sleeves we, rabbis and all, were off to the races. Yet, once inside the shul I took the time to admire the impeccable table arrangements, the way all the different elements of chairs, cups, silverware, were set aesthetically, in great numbers, and in great harmony–this was a big social hall set up for a big Seder gathering.
I am not easily impressed by the sheer size of social events on paper, by the promise of what’s to come, or the way things look before the crowd arrives–I live on the second floor of the College Area Chabad House, where a Shabbat dinner would usually cater to a sizable group of two hundred students. In my student days–I graduated from SDSU in 2014–I would join the throngs for a Shabbat dinner, help set the tables before dinner time, help tear down collapsible tables and folding chairs and clean up after everyone had left, putting away leftovers that could still be used for a kiddush luncheon. This, however, was a Seder prep on a grand scale, it belonged to the spectacular, and I took note of how aesthetic the entire Seder operation was, the painstaking attention to details, and the grandeur of it all. Once everything was delivered I took leave of the rabbis, and continued on to Chabad of Poway.
No more drama the rest of the way, although I still was on high alert driving inland to Poway, keeping an ear out for any funny engine sounds, ready for an emergency exit should the engine cut off again. When I parked the van dusk was all about, with just enough time left to get the food order into the Chabad of Poway kitchen. Rabbi Yisroel Goldstein, head of Chabad of Poway, greeted me outside of the shul, and we immediately got to the task at hand of putting all of the foodstuff away. I remember being floored as I stepped into the social hall, it was the definition of holiday spirit, a white aura of pristine tablecloths, sparkles of wine cups and of silverware, and a pervasive sense that the holiday is about to take form. I’ve been to many regional events at the Chabad of Poway synagogue, and I’m always taken aback by their inventiveness, and refreshing way of setting up to serve a large crowd.
After a day of driving and schlepping it was time to go back home, though not before parting ways with Rabbi Yisroel Goldstein, as he thanked me for my efforts, and wished me a happy Pesach. Just as I was about to head out I saw the Rabbi’s daughter and her husband, they were recently married, and I gave them each a kosher Cholov-Israel strawberry-filled chocolate bar as I congratulated them with a mazal tov for their joyous occasion, and a happy Pesach farewell.
The rest of my 2019 Passover is a blur, the highlight being an invitation to a second Seder at a friend’s house, with many SDSU graduates around the dinner table, and a good time taking turns leading the Seder. Seven days later news broke of a shooting at Chabad of Poway. This was the last day of Passover 2019, it was Shabbat too, and I was immediately brought back to the first Seder night, to standing outside of Chabad of Poway shul talking with Rabbi Yisroel Goldstein, congratulating his daughter and her husband–a newlywed couple–and imagining the scene that unfolded at the shul at the time of the shooting. I now know that there were many heroic moments by congregants of Chabad of Poway that day: adults sheltering kids, and ushering them to safety, Rabbi Yisroel Goldstein and Lori Kaye standing their ground in the face of unspeakable terror, and by many others who took direct action against an imminent danger that was threatening everyone at the shul.
I’m no stranger to security breaches at places of worship. As a resident of the Chabad House at Chabad of College Area I have witnessed a thing or two relating to targeting of the Chabad House simply because it is a Jewish place of worship. Vandalism, anti-Semitic slurs, thefts, have all taken place while I have been living there. During recent High Holidays services there was a theft of one of the fans used for ventilation of the shul, an act which was caught on a security camera. I have personally heard someone yelling Mein Kampf (the political manifesto written by Hitler–may his memory be erased forever) as that person and a cohort were passing by the Chabad House. I have heard passersby talk about the Chabad House as they were going past the building, saying that ‘this is the house of the devil.’ I am always shocked when I overhear these things, though I am not surprised by the fact that some people harbor such detestation and negativity toward anything relating to Judaism.
Hate speech is not the only misconduct that I have witnessed, as yet another incident happened at nighttime when a group of frat boys were rounding off their night on the town, and they set their sights on the Menorah that stood in front of the Chabad House, broke off one of the Menorah’s branches and took off on foot. Though I had no direct line of vision of them at the precise time of the vandalism, I overheard them saying “The Jews are coming.” I later found out that this was already after they vandalized the Menorah, doing pull-ups on the Menorah’s branches, and as they were fleeing they could clearly be heard saying multiple times that ‘it is a sacrilege.’ It so happened that one of the Chabad House residents captured the vandalism on his cellphone camera, and with this footage there was now a way to identify the perpetrators. A record of this incident exists in video form on NBC’s Channel 7 News, thanks to a reporter and her crew who arrived at the scene a short time after the incident, interviewing eyewitnesses, myself included (Link to: Group Vandalizes Chabad House Menorah at San Diego State University: ). None of these incidents, however, prepared me for what was about to happen on the last of Day of Passover 2019, at the Chabad of Poway synagogue.
Since it was the last day of Passover, and since it was Shabbat, news of the shooting did not circulate with immediacy. I was made aware of the shooting and of its deadly toll only much later in the day. With a loss of life, and with maiming injuries, the scale of the attack took on horrific and tragic proportions. I personally know many adults and students who are active members in the Chabad of Poway community, including Rabbi Yisroel Goldstein and his family. Rabbi Goldstein was in the line of fire, and he suffered direct gunshot wounds. Lori Kaye, a member of the Chabad of Poway community, was murdered. The synagogue came under attack; Judaism came under attack, and I was not ready to feel as raw and as vulnerable as I did once I realized how brutal the attack was, how heinous the hate crime against the congregants, against their Jewish faith, and against their absolute right to practice their freedom of religion.
There are moments in time when the individual intersects with the universal, even if those moments are too brief to hold on to. Passover 2019 was my personal redemption as a year prior I marked the holiday by eating matzah alone and in isolation as I was recovering from a serious illness, and a debilitating hospital stay. Able to walk again, and having partially regained my physical independence, I was thankful to be in a position to help out Rabbi Yisroel Goldstein and deliver Passover foodstuff from Los Angeles to three Chabad centers in San Diego. Somehow, despite a faulty van, I managed to deliver all of the Passover Seder foodstuff to everyone. I intersected for a brief moment with the Chabad of Poway’s Passover celebration, bathing in their holiday light, and joyous spirit, and then I went on to celebrate my own Passover, and my own personal redemption, that at that point had been a year in the making, not realizing that in some way I had crossed over the threshold of the universal. The loss of Lori has reverberated beyond cultural and religious divides, and Lori’s essence continues to shine light. With every fiber of my being I hope that somehow Lori Kaye could still be here, doing this essential work of bringing people closer together in person, leading from the frontline. Dear Lori Kaye, I still have your photo on my Facebook wall, and while I want to apologize for using your picture as my profile picture, it has also helped me remember the importance of our individual lives as we intersect with the community at large.
Dear all, Lori Kaye has been cruelly and unjustly taken from her family and friends way, way too soon, by a murderous individual, incited to hate and inspired by a thirst for blood. At Lori’s funeral the pain of the community was palpable, and the personal suffering of Lori’s family was too great for me to even begin to comprehend. I met Lori’s husband, Howard, and her wonderful daughter Hannah, this past year, and as last Monday marked the first memorial day for Laurie I want to take a moment to explain the obvious: Chabad of Poway is dear to me, for many reasons. Rabbi Mendy; Rebbetzin Bluma, and the kids, and Rabbi Shuie, and Rebbetzin Devorah are like a family to me. The Chabad of Poway shul is their home, and it serves as the spiritual home for many others. What took place on the last day of Passover last year at the shul is a pain greater than any that I can imagine, and yet the resolve of Lori’s family, and of families of Chabad of Poway, has shed light on the meaning of community, and of the power of rising up again. To all members of Chabad of Poway, Rabbi Yisroel Goldstein, Howard Kaye, and Hannah Kaye, and to all those who were injured in the horrific attack in Chabad of Poway, may you rise up to greater, and greater heights.
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Omer Zalmanowitz is a musician and freelance writer based in San Diego. He may be contacted via omer.zalmanowitiz@sdjewishworld.com