Here’s My Story: My Own Public Health Crisis
Professor Michael Rudolph
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I was trained as a dentist at the University of the Witwatersrand (Wits) in Johannesburg, South Africa, and I practiced in dentistry for several years, both in Johannesburg and London. Subsequently – in 1976 – I came to the United States to study public health at Harvard University. After completing my Masters’ Degree, I had intended to return to South Africa to establish at Wits a new Department of Public Health Dentistry that could become a major platform for improving dental care services to millions of poor people in South Africa.
However, when I returned home, there was much bureaucratic uncertainty about starting a new department from scratch, and I was not sure what to do. I had to make a choice between continuing in my successful dentistry practice and taking on a new, very demanding academic position, with a major difference in salary. Truth be told, my passion really lay in helping South African communities with all the complex social and economic issues of public health that were impacting the country, but I also did not want to deprive my family financially in the process.
Through my dental practice, I had become involved with the Chabad community and the Rebbe’s emissaries in Johannesburg, so I shared my dilemma with them. Their collective consensus was that I should consult with the Rebbe about this issue. It so happened that, just then, a medical conference was taking place in New York. (Now, I realize this was Divine Providence at work, but then I did not understand this.) I decided to take this opportunity – at Purim of 1981 – to visit 770, the Chabad Headquarters in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, and ask for the Rebbe’s advice.
Within hours of arriving in Crown Heights, I was invited to participate in the Rebbe’s Purim farbrengen, a joyous chasidic gathering – which I was told was quite unique because it took place on Friday that year. I was overwhelmed by the energy of the chassidim, all of whom were focused on the Rebbe as he gave an animated talk. It was in Yiddish and I didn’t understand anything he said, so I asked a chassid next to me to translate. He answered that since “words that come from the heart, enter the heart,” whatever the Rebbe said from his heart was bound to penetrate my heart. I immediately felt uplifted by this idea, and I also experienced an incredible sense of connection to the Rebbe, in spite of not understanding his words.
My audience with the Rebbe was scheduled a couple of days later for two o’clock in the morning, and I went into the Rebbe’s office accompanied by my wife, Jeanne. I was feeling quite nervous, as I fully realized that, whatever advice the Rebbe would give me, I would feel obliged to follow, and this would actually determine the course of my life.
I also realized that meeting this giant of a man, about whom I had heard so much, was going to be a unique experience. And, indeed, it was. As a student at prestigious universities, I had the good fortune to encounter some great people, including some famed professors. But in those pivotal and life-changing five minutes, the Rebbe surpassed any important personage I had met until then, or ever since.
I had written out my question and now handed this note to the Rebbe, whose eyes scanned my face closely, as if reading me. And then he gave me an unequivocal blessing to take up the position at the university and segue into community health, adding: “But keep your hand in it.”
My earlier state of confusion and concern was immediately transformed into a sense of clarity and confidence. However, I must admit that it was not clear to me what he meant by “keep your hand in it.” Only later did I come to understand that he wanted my work to have practical applications and not just be confined to academic research. And, indeed, it was not – I was involved both in the research and in how it was applied in the field.
When we returned home, I took up the post at the university with much excitement and enthusiasm, and I have been there ever since. I’ve had a long and highly rewarding career in public health, taking dental and other health services to disadvantaged and rural areas. A particularly important innovation was designing and introducing mobile dental units (our own form of “dental mitzvah tanks”) to treat thousands of people all over South Africa for whom oral care was neither accessible nor affordable.
Reaching out to very poor communities propelled me to address another high priority – namely, the issue of food and nutrition security. Hence, for the past fifteen years I have kept my hand in the soil, so to speak, setting up vegetable gardens in a range of settings, including schools and villages. Thus, I was fulfilling the Rebbe’s blessing given to me thirty years earlier. These gardens have resulted in me establishing another academic center, which has become the country’s leading organization for tackling food security and sustainability under the rubric of holistic health.
I do believe that to whatever degree of success I have achieved and have helped people in significant ways, the root of my meaningful career leads back to the Rebbe’s blessing and his clear direction to me. And for this I will be forever grateful.
For many years, Michael Rudolph served as professor of community dentistry at Wits in South Africa. He is now the country’s leading proponent of food and nutrition security. He was interviewed in August of 2014.
