People are still talking about the miracle. A devastating fire last week destroyed almost all 50 houses in the heavily-wooded Mevo Modiim community – the once pastoral residence of Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach in Israel – but the village’s beloved, hand-decorated beit knesset survived unscathed.
Mevo Modiim, a unique, religious hippie community that Rabbi Carlebach once called “a center for hungry people “ was founded some 43 years ago. On the initiative of Dr. Josh Ritchie, a student of the Amshinover Rebbe and Rabbi Carlebach, an eclectic group of American ba’ale teshuvah joined together to establish an ideal society, which they called “Me’or Modiim” based on the teachings of love and brotherhood of their charismatic rabbi.
The Jewish Press recently spoke with one resident, Richard Millman, who worked in Hollywood (he produced the movie, “The Lords of Flatbush”) until the songs of Reb Shlomo set him on the path to teshuvah as they did the other unique personalities who reside in this now fire-decimated village.
The Jewish Press: Have you gone back since the fire?
Millman: The authorities told us on Motzei Shabbos that residents were barred from returning home, but my wife insisted we drive there. Her tears softened the hearts of the police, who finally let us in. All of the streetlights were out, but you could tell the village was destroyed. It looks like a ghost town.
Where were you when the fire erupted?
I was taking an afternoon walk with my wife on the ridge overlooking the village. The fire broke out in four separate spots, each one distant from the next, as if it was some kind of coordinated act of arson – an angle the police are investigating.
The fires spread quickly and a loudspeaker called for everyone to take a few belongings with them and leave the moshav immediately. Everyone was dazed. We all stood in a crowd beyond the gate of the village. Police cars and fire trucks arrived, but instead of fighting the fire, they drove away just as gas canisters exploded all over the place.
Eventually, we were told that temporary housing was being provided for us at the yeshiva in Yad Benyamin. Later, when news reached us that the moshav had been almost completely wiped out in the inferno, a few representatives met with Bibi, who promised to expedite matters regarding insurance and rebuilding. But, as of now, no one knows what the future will bring.
What happened to your home?
Miraculously, our house was untouched.
How do you explain that?
I don’t. Everything is according to Hashem.
The conflagration erupted on Lag B’Omer, and the main figures of Lag B’Omer are Rabbi Akiva, famous for his saying, “Love your fellow Jew like yourself – this is a great principle of Torah,” and Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, author of the holy Zohar, which, perhaps more than any other classic of Jewish belief, draws direct connections between events and their underlying spiritual cause.
If that combination wasn’t enough to trigger thoughtful introspection, the frightening curses of Bechukatai caused people to wonder. In truth, the in-fighting that blemished the peaceful-looking moshav wasn’t a secret to people familiar with the community. For example, among the many deep sources of friction was a fierce and ongoing argument between the old-timers and the young generation and newcomers regarding the moshav’s development.
Since the moshav is situated on valuable property, a short ride to the airport, and equidistant from Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, the Jewish Agency and private contractors have coveted the site. But in the eyes and hearts of the veterans, giving a green light to modern housing projects would destroy the sleepy quiet of Reb Shlomo’s favorite retreat.
Another ongoing argument centered around the village’s landscaping and the problem of dry weeds and brush that was piling up with no sign of removal – one of the reasons why the fire spread so quickly.
‘We Even Stopped Greeting Each Other’
One longtime resident of the moshav, who asked to remain anonymous, told The Jewish Press:
“The loving spirit of the early Shlomo days was slowly waning, and in recent years the communal atmosphere weakened until it practically disappeared. We were losing the vessels to be able to trust each other.
“Come Kabbalat Shabbat, a handful of faithful souls would sit in our beautiful shul by themselves. Chevreh from the moshav stopped coming to minyanim. The hundreds of Shlomo’s beautiful nigunim weren’t sung. While Carlebach Minyans in the world were multiplying and bursting with enthusiasm, we were struggling to keep our heads above water.
“Divrei Torah were deep and mind-expanding, but the beit midrash seats were empty, with more women than men.
“We could no longer say, ‘Yes, of course’ when the weekly calls came, saying, ‘Hi, I am visiting from California or New York or Boston – can I come to the moshav for Shabbos with three other girls?’
“We even stopped greeting each other. We were so hurt.
“And then Lag B’Omer came. Fire and fear. Everything destroyed. But now, G-d willing, the fire of machloket has changed into the fire of achdut, mamash. We are lifting each other up, up, up.
“May this fire of achdut grow stronger and stronger. May we build up the moshav as we dreamt it to be. As Shlomo’s dream. A place where we take care of each other, take care of our children, take care of the world.”