The Rabbi Sanctifying Ramat Gan: "I Saw Angels, With Kippah and Without"

The city of Ramat Gan has never been known for extreme tendencies on either side. Most of its residents are people who believe in the Creator, pleasant individuals who love others and cherish peace. The youth always knew that to enjoy themselves, they didn't need to go too far: a five-minute drive took them to the entertainment center of Israel, Tel Aviv.

However, recently, the city has begun to change. Bialik Street is becoming less observant, as are the surrounding streets. "There are reports of official entities pressuring shop owners to open during the Jewish people's day of rest to turn the area into a recreational and leisure street," says Rabbi Heshel Reichlevitch. "We are fighting strong forces, but we feel Hashem beside us in the battle for the honor of the Creator, for the honor of Shabbat. We hope to bring back the quiet and peace that so characterize the city," he adds with pain.

Rabbi Heshel Reichlevitch (47) is a well-known figure among shop owners on Bialik Street and in Ramat Gan in general. When I asked him about the extent of these relationships, he told me: "I went shop by shop along Bialik Street, and today I can tell you that out of the approximately 100 shops from Bialik Street to Jabotinsky Street, about 80 are closed on Shabbat. Moreover, all shop owners who close for Shabbat agreed to hang a large sign reading: 'This is a Shabbat-observant business because I am a Jew and I know Shabbat is the source of blessing'."

Did you go from shop to shop explaining the importance of Shabbat?

"I went shop by shop," Reichlevitch shares. "I invested about two hours a day in recent weeks, gently explaining to the shop owners the significance of Shabbat and preserving its holiness.

"I can tell you I met righteous angels, whether wearing a kippah or not, it doesn't matter, but with a fervent faith in their hearts. Each has his personal story with Hashem. Their common denominator is the Jewish pride they wave."

Honestly, I found it hard to believe that most shop owners would hang a sign, which is basically a form of an official declaration of allegiance to Hashem, echoing 'Whoever is for Hashem, come to me.' To verify this myself, I joined Reichlevitch in the field, pleasantly surprised. I couldn't believe my eyes; almost every shop had a sign on its storefront. And don't get it wrong: these aren't shop owners from Bnei Brak but from the heart of Ramat Gan, a city not declared religious.

During the tour, I saw shop owners asking for blessings or simply waving warmly. One seller from a large corner store on the junction of Jabotinsky-Bialik proudly told me, "This is our pride," and he's not religious but stresses, "I'm Jewish and there's no way I'll open on Shabbat."

We continued along the street, and to be honest, there were almost no shops without a Shabbat sign. Everyone I spoke with shared how proud they were to keep their shop closed on Shabbat. Yet, with sadness, I must note that some shops didn't display the sign, either because, unfortunately, they open on Shabbat or they didn't want to participate.

One shop without a sign had recently closed, possibly due to the coronavirus crisis or perhaps Shabbat desecration. Only Hashem knows.

Dealing with Disruptors

Each time you post the Shabbat sign, wasn't there anyone trying to hinder you?

"When there are good things, there are always disruptions, but if you see them as mistaken good souls, the response is always different. Once, I was standing on a ladder on Bialik Street, posting one of my stickers on a shop window. Then two men approached and mockingly asked, 'What is this?' One added, 'This isn't suitable for my business.'

"I asked him, 'Why isn't it suitable for your business?' He replied, 'Because my business is open on Shabbat.' I said to him, 'Oh, how sad that you're open on Shabbat.' He retorted, 'You and your religious coercion.'

"I told him, 'Forgive me, brother, have I coerced you into anything?' He replied, 'Then why does it bother you about me?' My answer was, 'It pains me for your soul.' We started talking, and a window and mutual understanding opened. You might want to hear that the dialogue led to both of us returning to faith, but no. We parted as friends. I told him if he ever needs help in life, I'm ready to assist him. I believe my words touched them deeply, and one day it will spark their Jewish spark."

During my interview with Rabbi Reichlevitch, he seemed more troubled than ever, and it seems like all the responsibility for the spirituality of Ramat Gan rests on his shoulders. "The coronavirus period is a challenge in itself," he tells me. "People suddenly withdrew and saw how the Tower of Babel can collapse at any moment into itself. All technology, all advancement, cannot stand against a tiny virus smaller than a mosquito that can't even be seen. Everyone distances themselves from people but comes closer to Hashem."

When I ask where he witnesses this closeness, Rabbi Reichlevitch replies that he met secular people who lost their livelihoods and are now crying out only to Hashem. "I decided to take initiative to strengthen the community and printed signs with 'Shema Israel Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad'. Everyone who feels they are getting closer to the Creator hangs it on their balcony or store. I already told you we don't receive any cooperation or support from local authorities, even during the toughest coronavirus times when everyone sought a bit of encouragement and faith. I requested to hang a large 'Shema Israel' sign on a suitable building on Jabotinsky Street, but the mayor refused to help. Similarly, on Lag B'Omer, when I wanted to bring the traditional lighting from Meron to the central square, the mayor also refused.

"Ironically, for erecting fences on the border with Bnei Brak or installing a non-kosher food complex on Shabbat and hanging flags, he knew how to knock on the table, and within a day the fences were erected. It depends on what you believe in and want, nothing more."

So without permits, how do you hang your sign?

"As is my way, I consult all matters with the great rabbis of Israel and my mentor, Rabbi Dov Kook of Tiberias, and every action I take is with their approval. Rabbi Dov Kook told me to say in his name that anyone who hangs a 'Shema Israel' sign on their balcony (hanging a sign on a balcony does not require city approval - A.N.) will have blessings in their home.'

"If the rabbi promises, who would miss out on that blessing?! And even without effort, because I come alone and hang the sign for them. They don't even need to exert themselves, just desire it, a good thought Hashem joins to action."

"The rabbi also wrote in his handwriting: 'In honor of the Jews who still have a spark of Judaism in them, anyone who decorates their home with a sign of the Israel faith sanctifies Hashem at every moment and his merit is above nature at every moment. When the truth about the Messiah is revealed, they will rejoice for every moment that sign was in their home."

Rabbi Reichlevitch tells me that his activity doesn't end with convincing people to observe Shabbat and hanging signs; that's just the beginning. "After making a connection with suitable people, I connect them to my WhatsApp groups, where we maintain close contact and strengthen each other. I have various groups, and everyone chooses the group that suits them best. There's a group for a daily two-minute lesson, a group for questions and consultations, a group for strengthening Shabbat, and it's not just on WhatsApp. It's also on YouTube and Facebook; we use all media to draw the people of Israel closer to their Father in Heaven.

"My groups connect hundreds of Jews worldwide who are nourished every day by these lessons and encouragements. Quite a few have already made complete repentance through them. Even the sages of the generation sometimes appear with me, and there are lessons in Ramat Gan and other parts of the country.

I've taken the tools created by secularism, and I use them to create a better world."