The name of the Parshah is Lech Lecha. Hashem commands Avram to go from his birthplace to the land that He will show him. Hashem promises that there, he will become a great nation. Without asking questions, Avram, his wife Sarai and his nephew Lot make begin their journey to Canaan

Upon arrival, a famine forces them to depart for Egypt, where Sarai is taken to Pharaoh’s palace. A plague prevents the Egyptian king from touching her and convinces him to return her to Abram and to compensate him with gold, silver and cattle.

Still childless, Sarai tells Abram to marry her maidservant Hagar. She conceives, starts acting unpleasant towards Sarai and then flees when Sarai treats her harshly. An angel tells her that her son will father a populous nation. Ishmael is born in Avram’s eighty-sixth year.

Thirteen years later, Hashem changes Avram's name to Avraham and Sarai to Sarah and promises them a son. He commands Avraham to circumcise himself and the males in his household.

On the 11th of Cheshvan is the Yartzeit of Rochel Imeinu, the mother of the tribe of Yosef and Binyamin.

Before Rochel passed away, she asked not to be buried with the other matriarchs and patriarchs but rather on the side of the road leaving Yerushalayim. This was because she wanted to be there for the Jews when they were being taken to exile thousands of years later so they would be able to stop at her grave and pray.

It says that Rochel has not stopped crying for her people and her tears are dear to Hashem.

This is an auspicious day to pray for whatever it is that we need in our lives.

The Torah begins telling Avaraham's life when he is told to travel to the land of Israel with his wife. All that we know about his life before; discovering the One True God, smashing his fathers idols, being thrown into the fire and more, are all learned from the Midrash.

The reason the Torah skips to later on in Avraham's life is because up until that point, all the holy work he was doing was from his own will. It stemmed from his own love of God and desire for truth. However, in order to be the father of the Jewish people, it needed to come from God. That is why in Lech Lecha, when Avaraham obeyed God's command, he is written about in the Torah as our patriarch.

When Moshiach comes, even physical flesh will be able to see that all existence is continuously being brought into being and maintained by Hashem's word. If Hashem would stop creating anything for even a split second, it would no longer exist.

As I settled into my seat on Flight 1272 bound for Chicago, I glanced at the passengers filing down the aisle. My Jew-radar immediately went off; I spied several suede kippot, a striemel and ankle-length skirts. I didn't bother acknowledging them. They were strangers.

The plane rolled toward the runway and I waited for takeoff. The pilot announced the flight was being delayed three hours due to stormy weather conditions in Chicago. I glanced at my watch nervously. Usually, I avoid flying Friday afternoons for fear I won't arrive in time, but on summer weekends when Shabbat doesn't begin until 8 p.m., I figured I'd be safe.

A half-hour before arrival, the pilot announced O'Hare Airport was shut down and we were landing in Milwaukee until we could continue on. I knew I'd never make it on time It was time to introduce myself. We're going to get off in Milwaukee, a young man told me. The chasid had called Milwaukee's Chabad rabbi, who offered to host any stranded passengers for Shabbat. Come with us, he urged. I agreed.

My non Jewish seatmate was shocked.

"Let me get this straight," he said, "You're getting off the plane in a town where you've never been with people you don't know to stay overnight with complete strangers?"

For the first time that day, it occurred to me just how lucky I was. When the plane landed, the pilot announced we were disembarking first for religious reasons. Passengers stared at us, dumbfounded. My seatmate bid me farewell as if he didn't think I'd survive.

But I quickly realized I was among friends. As I attempted to carry my bags off the plane, a woman insisted on helping me. When we crowded into cabs to take us to the rabbi's house, the chasid insisted on paying for me. And when the cabs pulled up at the home of the rabbi and rebbetzin, they ran outside to greet us as if we were long lost relatives.

We lingered over our Shabbat  meal, enjoying our spiritual sanctuary in time after the stressful day. We shared disappointments about our unexpected stopover. Most of the group was traveling to Chicago for their friend's wedding and were missing the shabbat before. The chasid and his wife were missing a bar mitzvah.

We pondered the meaning of the departure from our journey and marveled at the coincidences. I had attended camp with my roommate, a couple had conducted business with my father, a man had studied in yeshiva with my cousin, the chasid used to work in my hometown of Aurora, and I had once spent Purim in Crown Heights with my hosts' son. Exhausted as we were, everyone was hesitant to leave the table to go to sleep.

The next morning, a lively tefillah was followed by a leisurely meal where we exchanged stories about our lives, careers and dreams. We nicknamed ourselves the Milwaukee 15 and wondered if future generations would retell the story of the flight that didn't make it in time for candlelighting.

Saturday night, we made a regretful journey to the everyday world. But before we began the final leg of our journey, I called my husband to tell him all that had transpired.

"Who did you spend Shabbat with?" he asked worriedly.

I pondered how to explain who these former strangers were who had given me object lessons in Shabbat hospitality and in the power of Shabbat in bringing Jews together. And, then I realized the truth: miles away from my parents, husband and home, I had accomplished what I set out to do when I booked my ticket: I had spent Shabbat with family.