From time to time, Reb Gamliel Rabinowitz would be visited by a struggling teen. The boy had found his place among the hippies, but every so often he would come to request a brachah. Reb Gamliel’s gabbai tried persuading him not to grant the boy entry, reasoning that it was disrespectful to tend to the needs of a boy who intentionally rebelled. It was a disgrace for his parents, a disgrace to his family, and disgrace to the Rav to extend any admiration to such a rebel, the gabbai argued. He must be distanced as much as possible until he shifts his direction in life.
But Reb Gamliel felt otherwise. “He has very little — if any — connection to Yiddishkeit. Severing his last ties can destroy his very last hope for a return. He doesn’t connect with anyone other than me, and keeping up this relationship can influence him to change. We have to keep him, and keep him strong.” And so, Reb Gamliel kept extending his wholehearted brachos to this teen.
One time, the boy came for a brachah with a new appearance. His long dangling ponytail was cut to size, his tattered jeans were substituted with respectable pants, and in place of a thrift-shop T-shirt was a neatly pressed shirt. Someone, or something, must’ve caused a change. A drastic one.
When he came into Reb Gamliel’s room, he was welcomed with the same old smile, and Reb Gamliel offered him a brachah, shared some humor, and as usual made him feel comfortable. As he was heading to the door, Reb Gamliel motioned him to come near and posed the million-dollar question: “What supercharged you into such a dramatic change? The despaired look that used to mask your face is replaced with a glowing, satisfied look. There’s no trace of misery crossing your face. How?”
“Let me tell you,” the boy replied, with tears quickly flowing from his eyes onto his clean shirt.
“Several days before Shavuos, I began reflecting on what we say on that holy day: ‘Tohar kallah me’od nisalah’ — we are, in a sense, the mate of the Ribono Shel Olam. As part of Klal Yisrael, me and every part of this nation will in some respect be the kallah of Hashem. How will it appear if I show up at the chasunah with the shabby clothes that I clothe myself with? That would be very disrespectful. No kallah shows up to her special day with such an appearance.
“I thus concluded that, at least superficially, I must change, even if internally I am totally disconnected. But once I changed my external look, I began reflecting on my internal self as well. Changing just my outside didn’t suffice. I began with learning just a few minutes every day and performing a minimal number of mitzvos that came my way. Slowly but surely, I felt my heart, which had once been filled with despair and pain, start filling itself with happiness. My feet, which had carried me sluggishly, became energetic. And so I stand here, climbing the ladder, rank by rank, step by step, determined to do the best I can.”
Reb Gamliel was in total shock. With a heart full of joy, Reb Gamliel responded, “The brachah I gave you beforehand doesn’t suffice. I must offer more.” He delivered another brachah, but this time, it was with a heart overflowing with happiness, and he bentched him well on his new journey. He was beaming to see firsthand the impact that this mindset had on this boy, and how he was able to tap into the spark of his neshamah that had not been extinguished.
