As you may have read in our last post or in the news, Isser and I are two deaf rabbinical students, roving in Rochester, NY, where there is a large deaf community.

We are on a high from the Torah workshop that we held this evening. We and three others – all deaf – participated. It was a pleasure to discuss Torah in ASL, and we had great discussions on various topics related to the weekly Torah portion.

Here is an observation about how a deaf event differs from one in the "hearing" community:

The first ten to fifteen minutes of the event was spent on various snippets of conversation among the participants. It took more than waving hands to get everybody's attention back to the main point of the gathering: to discuss the Torah portion.

And every fifteen minutes, the same thing would happen. The discussion would veer off into conversations about personal experiences in the Jewish community, various opinions on different topics, or sharing of photos. And every time, we had to lasso in the conversation and bring it back home. At a "hearing" event, everybody notices when the topic goes off course and they try to get it back in place. On the other hand, we tend to cherish every conversation, even when it has no relevance to the gathering itself.

Perhaps the very nature of the isolation in the deaf community results in such a strong need to talk to others. The participants who gathered for tonight's class all knew each other, but they still had lots to share. They saw the workshop as an opportunity to talk to their friends and to express themselves. Since the deaf experience includes a lot of isolation from the "mainstream" hearing world, we seem to have an internal urge to compensate for all the missed opportunities by grabbing every opening to chat with a fellow deaf person.

The Talmud teaches us that "the main thing is the deed." For our "hearing" readers, we have a message. If there is a deaf person in your community, please take the time to know him or her. Share some of your time with that person, and show that you care. Even the seemingly unimportant things you might have to say carry more weight than you may imagine. Also, learning a few words of sign language means worlds to us. It shows your interest in our language and culture.

Having a grand old time together.

Sometimes G‑d just has a plan of His own.

Isser and I woke up today in Toronto, from where we were to take a bus to Rochester, where we would serve as RovingRabbis to the sizeable deaf community that resides there. (The largest program for deaf university students is at RIT (Rochester Institute of Technology): the National Technical Institute for the Deaf.)

We are especially geared to connect with the Jewish deaf community because we are deaf ourselves and communicate in American Sign Language (ASL).

Our bus to Rochester would be leaving from the "Toronto Coach Terminal," according to our vaguely-worded ticket. But where exactly was this? After a brief debate, we decided to set out with our luggage in tow to the closest bus line that would take us downtown. The bus station had to be there somewhere, after all.

As soon as we left our hosts' house, we saw a familiar sight. As Divine providence would have it, we happened upon our rosh yeshivah (yeshiva dean), who promptly offered to find a driver to take us downtown in his van (he was occupied with something else at the time).

Great. We're half-way there now.

As he turned the corner, he suddenly saw the driver he had in mind.

The would-be driver was busy, too.

Half-way there? More like half-way back.

The clock was ticking. We had little more than an hour to catch our noon departure. And if we had to depend on Toronto's faithful public transportation system, I doubt we would have made it in time. It requires a several-bus connection to get us there.

But as G‑d would have it, a taxi cab was sitting in front of our van, having just dropped off its passengers (it's not a common sight to see taxi cabs in this residential part of town).

Seizing the moment, we asked the cab driver how much it would cost to take us downtown.

"Just twenty," grumbled the driver.

And that's how we found ourselves at the bus terminal about twenty minutes later, with plenty of time to spare.

In just a small space of time (five minutes, actually!) we had two potential rides and one actual driver. It's not often that something like that actually happens, and we're grateful that we were able to start off on the right foot with ease.

The Rebbe spoke many times about the importance of a good beginning. For example, Chassidic teachings stress conducting oneself properly in the beginning of the year, thus setting the entire year off to a good start.

We sure feel that we are on to a good start as well and hope to keep you posted.