Reb Jason Leff's Story

The Background

The following beautiful chain of events was shared with me by Reb Jason Leff. All names have been changed.

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ack when I was a kid in Manalapan, New Jersey, our family would drive to Freehold every Shabbos morning and spend the day with the rabbi of the Conservative temple, Rabbi Fishman — services at the temple, then seudos and zemiros at his home, staying until Maariv. His wife was a great cook and we loved the table conversation. Even though our family wasn’t religious yet, Rabbi Fishman clearly had a sense that we were pulled in that direction. He was a big catalyst for change in our lives.

One area in particular where his guidance was helpful was summer camp for the kids. Rabbi Fishman was a big fan of it in general, and he raved about the sleepaway camp where he sent his own daughter, Camp Sternberg. My parents listened with great interest, and by the end of Shabbos they had resolved to send my sister there. The following week, they had signed her up and paid the deposit.

There was just one detail that Rabbi Fishman “forgot” to mention — Camp Sternberg was completely Orthodox. My parents didn’t figure it out until they brought my sister to Brooklyn, from where the bus was departing. This was after my parents had already bought her supplies and sewed on name tags and loaded her duffel bag — besides which, my sister was really excited to go. So even though he had misgivings, my father decided to just put her on the bus and let her go.

My sister had the time of her life at Camp Sternberg, even though she was the only nonreligious girl there. She struck up  a close friendship with the counselor of her bunk, a young Lubavitch girl named Debbie Kaufman. Even after summer ended and my sister was back home, Debbie started coming to our house for Shabbos at least once a month. She usually brought at least three friends along, with their own food and lots of ruach.

Their company had a major influence on our household. The entire family became more connected. Eventually we realized that we had to move to a community where there was a shul within walking distance. Pretty soon all of us kids were enrolled in day schools and our family was living a fully Orthodox life.

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couple of years later, Debbie Kaufman gave us the fantastic news that she had become a kallah. We were over the moon with excitement — but my parents could see that Debbie herself had some mixed feelings. Not about her chassan — but rather about the rest of her own family.

Debbie had decided to become religious when she was in high school, and her parents had been so upset by the news that they cut her off. That meant that she had no practical way to pay for her wedding. Instead of experiencing the joy of being a kallah, Debbie was filled with worry.

But my parents loved Debbie so much and were so grateful to her for everything she had done for our family that they just stepped in and took over the role of Debbie’s parents. They paid for all the expenses and made sure that Debbie had everything she needed. They even walked her down the aisle.

Debbie had been like a member of our family — a big sister to us — and my parents were thrilled to be able to do this for her. Debbie’s wedding ending up being a truly phenomenal experience for all of us.

Fast-forward five decades, to the summer of 2023.

My daughter Dina became a kallah. The chassan was an exceptional young man from a wonderful family in Queens. We were overwhelmed with joy and eagerly looking forward to the wedding.

A week after the engagement, I got a call from the chassan’s mother.

“I just figured out that we have a very special person in common,” she told me. “You’re not going to believe this. My father was a public-school teacher in Brooklyn. One of his students was Jewish but not religious. He invited this student into our home and introduced her to the beauty of religious life. Before long she decided to change her life around. My father introduced her to a Lubavitcher friend of his who helped her along her journey.

“The student’s name was Debbie Kaufman.”

You could have knocked me over with a feather.

“Let me get this clear,” I said. “You’re telling me that because of your father, my family became religious, so that his grandson could marry my daughter.”

And it had all been set in motion fifty years ago.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1069)