“Rabbi,” said Shimon, “I came back to tell you, I fulfilled your brachah”

IT was a cold Friday morning in February 2001 when Roger Freenberger (the name has been changed) entered my office and said, “Rabbi, I’m ready to take you up on your offer.”

It took me a long minute to recall exactly what he was referring to. Roger was an unmarried, unaffiliated Jew of about 65. I had become the rav of Congregation Ahavas Israel of Passaic in 1997; I would often see Roger walking his dog in Nutley Park when I went there for a stroll. After a few months of these encounters, we started to have occasional conversations.

Eventually, Roger “bageled” me, although I had suspected his Jewish identity from the first time I met him.

“Rabbi, I’ll bet you knew I was Jewish from the start!”

I nodded in agreement. I then offered Roger an opportunity to become a part of our shul. I told him that if he ever wanted to come to davening, my door would be open.

Now, here was Roger at the door, and he wanted to come to davening.

Roger reminded me that he didn’t know a word of Hebrew and asked if I could find him a partner to help him.

When I next saw Shimon Silver, I said to him, “Shimon, by the power invested in me through my semichah, I hereby ‘rebbi-tize’ you to be Roger’s rebbi for Shabbos davening.”

Shimon looked at me and nodded. He then innocently asked, “Rabbi, did you really deputize me to be a rebbi this Shabbos?”

“Yes, you are now a rebbi.”

For the first time in his life, Roger experienced a Kabbalas Shabbos davening.

Some readers at this point in the story are probably assuming that Roger is now Reuvain, and he just finished his chiddushim on the Yersuhalmi, and he lives in Beitar with ten children….

However, the reality was that Friday night davening was not only the first time Roger came to shul, it was also the last. He never returned.

Interestingly, that year, Shimon and his family also left the shul, moving to Miami. However, our story has not ended.

Two months ago, a man came to see me who had a full beard, bushy peyos, and a frock coat. I was sure he was representing a kollel or tzedakah.

But the man looked at me and asked, “Rabbi, you don’t remember me?”

Then the light bulb went off. I was shocked, and all I could say was, “Are you really Shimon Silver?”

It was then that Shimon brought our story with Roger full circle.

Shimon explained, “Rabbi, remember when you deputized me as a rebbi for one Shabbos?”

I recalled well the incident with Roger and how my best attempts to bring him into a meaningful Jewish life had been unsuccessful.

“Rabbi,” said Shimon, “I came back to tell you, I fulfilled your brachah.”

I was still waxing nostalgic about Roger when I finally heard what Shimon was saying.

“Rabbi, I came home that Shabbos and told my wife what happened and told her that the rabbi made me a ‘rebbi’ for a day. She was so impressed.

“My wife and I never forgot what you said. We moved to Miami that spring and decided to make aliyah in the summer.

“When we were on the flight to Eretz Yisrael, my wife and I declared together that if Rabbi Eisenman had decided I could be a rebbi for one Shabbos, he obviously meant I had it in me to be a professional full-time rebbi. We moved to Beitar, and I joined a kollel and studied there for 15 years. Ten years ago, I became a full-fledged third-grade rebbi.

“Rabbi Eisenman, your brachah was fulfilled.”

And to think that all these years I thought my involvement with Roger was for naught….

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1097)