Chabad In Tokyo

Tokyo is known for its extremes. As we’ve looked to profile facets of the giant hive, we’ve found gifted children, stalwart politicians, and religious leaders who seem just a little out of place in the Tokyo zeitgeist. Though not the first people you think of when picturing disaster relief or community outreach in Tokyo, Chabad of Tokyo has had far-reaching influence on the landscape of Japan. We met with the Rabbi and his wife at Shabbat dinner in the middle of a calm neighborhood in Omori, Tokyo. They spoke on the challenges of keeping Kosher in Japan. Something which the Rabbi dedicated himself to improving for Tokyo Jews by starting Kosher certification on everything from Nori to Sake. He milks cows, visits fisheries, and generally presides over an immense amount of food production so that Kosher certification can make life easier for both visitors and residents. The Chabad house itself has become a safe haven and has helped rehabilitate everyone from Hikikomori to alcoholics. People come to this open house and are welcomed warmly regardless of their language ability or religious leanings. In the face of the 2011 disastrous Tohoku earthquake, the Rabbi acquired a sweet potato truck and sped to the upended areas to hand out food and shoes among other necessities. We met with the Rabbi and his wife and were presented with a host of similarly startling accounts.
They made me homesick for Brooklyn, where I would walk to my Hasidic landlord’s house or through his insular neighborhood to deliver the rent and feel like I was walking back in time. It’s a culture distinctly tied to New York, but even with the highest concentration of Jews in the world, Hasidic people are still regarded with curiosity by your average New Yorker. One consistent example comes to mind among many. If you encounter a Hasidic man on the subway wearing a large shtreimel hat, it’s inevitable that the whole compartment looks him over at least once. The Orthodox way of dress and adherence to strict cultural mores often seems otherworldly to New Yorkers. In the Tokyo landscape, such curiosity is exaggerated with few people having an understanding of what it means to be a jew, let alone a Hasid. the Rabbi’s wife admitted to facing a level of eagerness and concern that included a few questions like “does your wife also have a beard?” Tokyo is full of misunderstandings, too, for all the energy it encompasses. I imagine them getting used to their new lives in Japan at first. They were unable to eat the food, speak the language, or find a place to stay without being denied for seeming too outlandish to discreet Tokyo landlords. It’s a story of overcoming struggle that might seem deeply Jewish and traditional, but in its own way also speaks to an innovative nature that is prized in Tokyo. They are the first Chabad house in Tokyo and are opening up businesses to new venues of overseas export thanks to the Kosher certification. They are changing peoples perceptions about the kind of dedication foreigners are capable of showing Japan. They are raising a family of 10 children that speak Yiddish and Japanese. It’s a brilliant combination of distinct cultures and it’s something hopeful on the horizon of our series.