I was zocheh to help a Yid from Eretz Yisrael who came to Boro Park to collect money, and I accompanied him and tried to speak on his behalf. One morning, I planned on going with him from one minyan to the next, and with Hashem’s help, we would collect a nice sum.
The Yid from Eretz Yisrael heard my plan and said, “Nu, for sure. That’s why I’m here. But first I must daven Shacharis.”
“Sure,” I answered him. “Daven Shacharis, and afterward we’ll collect the money.”
At that moment I did not know what he meant by “daven Shacharis.” I thought he meant a Shacharis like mine. I did not know how long davening Shacharis took him. He davened with deveikus; he literally entered into the tefillah, said “Shema” with his whole self aflame, said each word as though he were counting coins. He did not feel the time passing and did not realize that people who could have contributed to his cause had already left the premises. We lost out on several minyanim before the guest finally folded up his tallis and, with utmost care, packed his tefillin into his bag and joined me.
At first, the pickings were sparse: We received a dollar, two, or five, but nothing more. Seeing this, I asked the Ribbono shel Olam: “Show me that a lengthy tefillah does not come at a loss of donations, please!”
And then, literally a second after my silent tefillah, we went over to a Yid and asked him for a donation for a Yid from Eretz Yisrael. “How much do you want?” he asked.
I told him.
“That’s all?! For a Yid from Eretz Yisrael you ask for so little?! I’ll give you way more!” And he gave a significant sum that was worth all the minyanim we had missed.
