Roaming the streets around the Kosel, Reb Meir Shuster noticed a dignified looking fellow observing his surroundings. Seeing this newcoming Jew, Reb Meir extended what he was famous for: a tap on the shoulders and an invite to learn more about Judaism. After some small talk, Reb Meir invited him to attend his Shabbos seudah. This was an experience that Reb Meir offered to newcomers where they were able to experience the melodiousness of Yiddishkeit in a Shabbos setting. It was a proven method that brought many back to their roots, and still today this experience strikes some type of chord with many who are seeking Yiddishkeit.
After thinking for a moment, the tourist accepted the invitation, and they parted.
Reb Meir was particularly joyed over getting this fellow to agree to come, as he seemed very brilliant and was gifted with a spectacular head. Bringing him back to a Torah life could be a good influence on others as well. This was a worthwhile investment. At the Shabbos seudah, the fellow presented many valuable questions and was absorbing all the answers he was presented with.
Over the next few months, he sat in on many lectures delivered at Aish HaTorah and enjoyed learning all about Yiddishkeit.
One day, he came to Reb Meir to tell him that he was leaving. “Where are you going?” asked Reb Meir. “Back to my hometown!” “Your hometown? Why don’t you stay on? Here, we have a network for all your needs — spiritual and physical. We have rebbeim who can guide you; we have friends who are in the same boat as you. If you return to your community, in all likeliness you’ll fall right back to where you were before this visit. Stay on and retain your achievements.”
“I know you’ll be shocked,” replied the man, “but the truth be told: I am not a Jew. I am a priest. Nothing less. The kippah on my bare head is just there to integrate amongst the Jews, but I’m really just a priest who came to study Judaism. Nothing more. This visit served as a learned experience, but this is not my roots. I enjoyed the experience. Thank you. Now, I am returning.”
Reb Meir was stunned. His “hot fish” had decayed. All the fertilization that he sprinkled over the last several months was scattered over a desolate desert.
“Oh well,” he responded, with a halfhearted smile stretched over his face. “It was nice meeting you,” and Reb Meir wished him well. Why would he try persuading a non-Jew to stay?
But it didn’t take long for Reb Meir’s fertilization to blossom. Sometime after the return, Reb Meir got a knock on his front door. Standing there was a young Christian teen, who said that he’d been sent by his priest. “He told me that the only place for my questions to be answered was with you Jews, and he sent me to you specifically.” The priest’s experience with Reb Meir had proved to him that the one and only place where all his questions could be solved was by the Jews. Nowhere else.
Reb Meir greeted him and had him sit down. The boy presented his load of questions, and in their short conversation, years of doubt were resolved. Seeing the truth displayed right before him, this young student made up his mind that he must leave a religion that can’t answer even his most basic questions. He was seeking a religion that would answer his questions — Yiddishkeit.
Several weeks passed, and Reb Meir got another knock on his wooden front door. It was a friend of his new student. The visitor had some pressing quandaries, and when he’d heard the success that his friend had found, he decided to join. He found favor in the answers presented by Reb Meir, and he also made the decision to move to Eretz Yisrael to learn and grow.
From then on, whenever the priest had students who were eager for truthful answers and were nagging him and his beliefs, he sent them Reb Meir’s way. Keeping them in his presence would jeopardize his leadership, and he feared that they would inevitably demote him. It was worth his while to deport some handfuls just so he shouldn’t lose his whole following and be left with nothing.
So, while Reb Meir’s kiruv efforts with the priest seemed to fall on hot air, truthfully it was a stepping-stone for forthcoming success — bigger and better. Even what seems not to succeed in our lives can in truth be the catalyst for success — bigger and better.
