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a beautiful story
A MOTHER’S TEARS
Yair Eitan”s father ran a produce distribution
business in Northern Israel. When Yair was old enough, he began driving the delivery truck.
One of his regular deliveries was at Yeshivah
Lev V”Nefesh, whose student body was primarily comprised of baalei teshuvah. Yair”s parents had carefully shielded him from his religion; his pbringing was strictly secular. The joy and excitement Yair saw within the yeshivah walls aroused his curiosity. He allowed himself to be drawn into conversation with a few yeshivah students. On his third trip there, Yair was already sitting down for a few minutes to sample Torah study.
When Yair finally told his parents what he had discovered in the yeshivah, his father became enraged. “No son of mine is going to become a backward, bearded chareidi! You are no longer to deliver to that route and you are forbidden to visit that yeshivah, or any other yeshivah, ever again!” Yair knew that one must obey one”s father, except when a parent explicitly commands a child to disobey the Torah. He continued to clandestinely visit the yeshivah. But his father found out, and he reacted violently.
Yair, however, was determined. He inquired as to other available yeshivos, left a note wishing his parents well,and left without revealing his destination. His father searched for him and forced him to return home. Not only that, he blamed the Rosh Yeshivah of Lev V”Nefesh and filed charges against him of brainwashing his 18- year-old son and of engineering his flight from home.
The trial aroused great interest, and the trial date found a packed courtroom eagerly awaiting to hear the proceedings. Yair”s testimony did not help the prosecution at all. Yair insisted that he had not been coerced to attend the yeshivah; it was of his own volition. While Yair was recounting his story, the judge presiding over the case, an elderly man, seemed a bit distracted. He would intermittently take his eyes off the speaker to gaze intently at Yair”s father.
When Yair left the witness stand, the judge announced, “I would like Mr. Eitan to step forward.” Yair”s father was surprised as he stepped up to the witness stand. The judge asked if he was of Eastern European descent, if his name back in Europe was perhaps “Stark”. Mr. Eitan was clearly taken aback, and he stammered that the judge was indeed correct. “And are you riginally from Pinsk?” asked the judge. Mr. Eitan nodded meekly. The judge continued, “I remember you well. You come from one of the finest homes of pre-War Pinsk. Your father
was a deeply religious and highly respected man. Your mother was renowned for her kindness. She would cook meals for the poor and the sick regularly. I remember well when, as an 18-year-old, you openly departed from your parents” ways. When you publicly desecrated the Shabbos for the first time, your father aged vernight and seemed to be constantly in mourning. Your mother would shed a river of tears every Friday night when she lit the candles. I often wondered what became of all her tears. I”m not the most religious person, but I know that there is a G-d who runs this world, and I could not understand how the tears of so righteous a woman could be ignored in Heaven. Today my
question has been answered. I see that her tears were not shed in vain. Today, almost 50 years later, her grandson has returned to
the ways of his ancestors. Mr. Eitan, I”m sure you recall that on more than one occasion, friends of your parents pleaded with you that for your parents” sake you should at least refrain from
public transgression. As I recall, your response was, “I”m now eighteen and I make my own decisions. I can live my life any way I please.” And you dare to file charges because your eighteen-year-old son has returned to the ways that you abandoned?
Case dismissed
I have received this in an email from many friends of mine who know my work with at-risk kids. B”H it is a beautiful story and it holds a lot of truths for many, many people in it. Hashem is in charge and a mother’s tears are not in vain. In addition, we cannot forget the pintele yid in anyone. A Jew, is a Jew, is a Jew. And when we show each other the zeeskeit and emeskeit of yiddishkeit it just ignites the spark in the hearts of a Jew no matter how lost they seem to be. You just never know how far reaching your Good morning, gut shabbos or zei gebentched can go. You just never know when the varemkeit of the emesdik ehrlich and eidel yid draws the pintele yid back in. That is why the likes of Reb Moshe Feinstein z”tl, Rav Avraham Pam z”tl and their peers were so respected and revered. They were the epitome of such Yiddin that could envelope you with emesdik yiddishe tam.
WHen I was growing up, my mother gave us a minimal jewish education.But B”H.. Sunday mornings she drove us to our Reform Synogogue to a kids’ Sunday School Class. It was impressed upon me that the Orthodox have unreasonable laws especially surrounding what is considered kosher, which were suited to set them above and beyond everyone else and were therefore snobbish to anyone less observant.Oh, and intimidatingly wealthy, to boot. Although, when I would see them on TV they appeared so humble and I would think “those are my people..and one day I am gonna live like that”.
But I loved my synogogue as a little girl. And identity as a Jew. I often asked my mother why we didn’t have Shabbat. So she did it a few times. Candles and grape juice.
From the moment I would walk into the lobby of the shul, there was the smell of Chanel perfume, of velour seats in the ‘santuary’, and this feeling that I belonged and was special to G-d here cause I was a jew. B”H.
Although I never learned Hebrew, and in fact stopped going altogether once my mother remarried a man of another religion I never forgot I was a jew and that idol worship was an abominable repulsion.
Because I went to a public school I really did not know any other jews. And until I was 26 years old I never met a frum person in my life, where I was invited immediately upon our acquaintance to their shabbos meal. I was impressed with the unique simplicity of their home, and the unparalled genuine concern and love they seemingly held for me.
Within a short time, I was keeping shabbos and then kashrus, completely committed in heart and soul and before I had to wait too long i was already a kalla. B”H.
Only later did I reflect back and laugh at what funny notion I had held of Religious Jews growing up.
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