Life Not Always a Beach for Chabad Reps in Cancun

“Thank you for showing my children their daddy isn’t crazy,” Rabbi Mendel Druk told fellow celebrants at Shmini Atzeret, the holiday marking the end of Sukkot. The energetic Israelis who danced with Torah scrolls and the rabbi’s kids made for an experience “we wish the children could have every year,” his wife, Rachel, said. “Sometimes the children watch their dad dance on his own, like a crazy person. When there are others doing it, they understand it’s a Jewish — not a crazy — thing. Something others do.”

A few days earlier, in the middle of Sukkot, Druk had sat down with The Times of Israel for a talk about the life he and his wife chose for themselves, and for their children, six years ago. Living as the only ultra-Orthodox Jews in Cancun, Mexico, is “not always easy, but it’s what we need to do,” he stated simply. Like thousands of other Chabad emissaries around the world, the two have a sense of purpose: “We’re on a mission.”

“A wise man once told me that if I want to succeed in my job, I need an office, but that I should spend most of my time out of it,” he said, and apologized for arriving a few minutes later than he had hoped. “I was at the hotel zone, where Jewish tourists and workers wanted to use the sukkah and Arba Haminim” (Four Species).

The sukkah, it should be noted, was mounted on a truck so it could be driven around the city.

A life-changing decision

When Mendel and Rachel Druk arrived in Cancun, they had many ideas about how to act as Chabad emissaries. Today, many of their plans have been realized: classes for local families and businessmen, meals for visitors, a summer camp and providing assistance for travelers in need. Behind the scenes, however, things aren’t always simple — though helping people get out of a Mexican prison can be interesting.

Originally, the two planned on journeying to Chengdu, China, but a letter signed by a handful of Jews from the coastal Mexican city caused them to change their plans. At the beginning of 2006, they, with baby Mushka, moved and opened Cancun’s Lubavitch Jewish Center, where they “could help and teach Jews and non-Jews” in the popular party town on the Caribbean shore.

Living as a family on shlichut — the Hebrew phrase used by Chabad for the job, literally meaning “mission” — was always a given for the couple. “Though it wasn’t the first question, we spoke about it in the first hour of our first date,” Mendel, a 30-year-old from Detroit, said.

He recalled the first days in their new home: ”Our [shipped] container — holding about 1,000 Jewish books and all the furniture for our home — was held unjustly after arriving at the wrong port. Even though it was paid for, they demanded more money.” Years later, they still don’t have those items. In addition, “the oven exploded on the Wednesday before the first Shabbat, and Rachel was rushed to hospital. Thank God, she wasn’t hurt badly.”

Nonetheless, with plastic chairs from a nearby supermarket and a very basic amount of food, they prepared to welcome the Jewish day of rest. That was when a group of about a dozen Israelis arrived to celebrate the Friday night meal with them. “It was one of the best experiences of my life,” he said.

One family’s stories provide insight into the lives of the thousands of Chabad emissaries around the world
Rachel, Mendel and their three children have stories that provide insight into the lives of the thousands of Chabad emissaries around the world. These families give up the comfort of “normal” life in order to spread the ideas and spirit of the late Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, also known as the Lubavitcher Rebbe, the seventh leader of Chabad.

The first emissaries were sent to Morocco in the early 1950s, and thousands have embarked on their own journeys since. “Everything — making a kitchen kosher, conducting a wedding, teaching, hosting meals — we do it all,” said Druk.

At the organization’s annual gathering next week in Brooklyn, some 5,000 Chabad emissaries, from all around the globe, are scheduled to meet. “There is no hall large enough to seat us all,” Mendel said with a smile. “The [Troop C] Armory is cleared out and turned into a nice place. It’s the only place that can host the gathering.”

The decision to become emissaries is lifelong. “No shaliah [emissary] has ever been replaced. Once you have a community, it’s a bond for life,” Mendel explains.

After a moment, he corrects himself: “There were a few who changed location, but I can count them on my fingers. Most of them were old, and their communities had emptied out of Jews.”

Raising ultra-Orthodox children in Cancun
Fulfilling a dream and moving to places considered the end of the world by many Orthodox Jews may sound like fun, but it’s not always simple for the couple. “One of the most serious questions revolves around the children,” Druk said. Educating them in an environment “very different” from the family’s lifestyle “can be hard and complicated.”

‘I wish Gavi would get to see a sukkah at another family’s home,’ Rabbi Druk says
There are no other families in Cancun who keep kosher to the level practiced by Chabad, so the Druk children don’t eat in other homes.

“It was very hard at first,” Druk said. With time, other parents “started making sure that at birthday parties, there would be something for Mushka, but it’s still difficult.”

Still, last month, Cancun’s first kosher restaurant opened: a fish-and-chips place run by a British couple and supervised by Druk.

It’s not only “technical” matters that make raising a family hard here. There is no school fit for 5-year-old Mushka or 3-year-old Gavriel Noach. “Chabad stepped up to this challenge and provided a very good online school,” their father explained.

The online school serves thousands of children in the same situation. “Mushka learns with children from a number of countries. They’re not only classmates, but also friends; they talk over Skype and email each other,” Druk said.

Even though it’s not the same education given in Brooklyn or central Israel’s Kfar Chabad, “the Internet and technology make that part of our decision easier.”

“I wish Gavi would get to see a sukkah at another family’s home,” Druk said, a few days before thanking the Israelis who danced with his children. The toughest part about the job is that “you’re always doing things on your own.” For a couple who chose their lifestyle because of community-shaped childhood experiences, trying to re-create those feelings for their children is a daily task. Especially when the holidays are the time they’re needed most in the community.

Continue reading at Times of Israel