fbpx
| Shul with a View |

Reb Yankel, Part Two

“I never met a rav who has a son in the Israeli army,” he said. And then he asked, “Are you proud of what he is doing?”

This column was never meant to be a serial. However, I’m making an exception this week and presenting part two of what may be an ongoing saga.

For those who need a refresher, a few weeks ago, I shared the story of Reb Yankel, the Yid from American Dream, and how I masqueraded as the gabbai so I could help him daven Minchah in our shul.

So I shouldn’t have been surprised when my phone rang and the caller said, “Du redt Yankel [This is Yankel speaking].”

Realizing my preference for English, Yankel continued, “My wife [again, it’s always the wife!] told me about the column you wrote about me and I could not stop laughing.”

After a few more minutes of small talk, I thought the conversation was winding down.

However, Yankel was in no rush, and he said, “You know I really want to come back to Passaic and say thank you in person.”

I figured he was just being polite. But this wasn’t the case; Yankel was being very sincere. He explained that he took the obligation of hakaras hatov very seriously and insisted that an in-person expression of gratitude was imperative.

I relented, and we agreed that Yankel would come to Passaic for yet another visit. A date was set, and we agreed to meet at 1 p.m. But when the day arrived, the appointed time came and went, with no sign of Yankel.

At around 1:30, Yankel arrived at my office, and the cause of his tardiness was immediately evident. He was carrying a large bag filled to bursting with the most delicious rugelach on this side of the Hudson, along with a still-steaming potato kugel and the largest container of schmaltz herring that any person in Passaic has ever laid eyes on.

I wondered if his family was in the car, as there was enough food to feed the entire Yeshiva Gedola of Passaic. However, Reb Yankel insisted that I taste everything, and answered “Amen” to all my brachos.

He then pulled out a sefer from his bag and announced, “We have to learn some Torah!”

He placed the Divrei Yoel al HaTorah on the desk, and soon we were immersed in the sweet words of the Torah, which were more delectable than all of the delicious foods surrounding us.

Reb Yankel then stood to leave, thanking me again, and I thanked him as well. Then Reb Yankel noticed a picture of an Israeli soldier in full uniform on my desk.

“Who is that?” he said, not trying to hide his surprised look.

“That’s my son, he’s in the Israeli army,” I said.

“I never met a rav who has a son in the Israeli army,” he said. And then he asked, “Are you proud of what he is doing?”

“Of course I am,” I responded. “We all have our special tafkid, and my son found his. I am as proud of him as I am of all of my children.”

He looked at me and paused, and said, “You’re right to be proud of all of your children. I want to daven for him, please tell me his name.”

I gave him Tuvia’s name, and then, without any prompting, we spontaneously hugged each other in a long and loving embrace.

As I walked him back to his blue minivan, I said, “I’m so happy you came, and thank you for the wonderful sefer — it opened my eyes to divrei Torah I never knew before.”

Reb Yankel stopped at the open car door and turned to face me. “I’m also happy I came — you opened my heart to love and daven for a special Yid I never knew before, your son Tuvia.”

 

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1069)

Oops! We could not locate your form.