By Brandon Becker
So ... how did I find Chabad? Maybe the better question is: how did Chabad find me?
It all started (as it has for many) with two yeshivah students walking into my workplace—a mattress store with very few customers—one random Friday afternoon and asking a simple question.
“Are you Jewish?”
“Yes,” I said.
And without missing a beat, they asked, “Can we help you put on tefillin?”
And I said (and I remember this clearly!), “A tefill-what?”
I had no idea what they were talking about.
After all, I’d grown up in Arlington Heights, an Illinois suburb with very little Jewish infrastructure. I knew I was Jewish, but had never practiced in a meaningful way, never attended synagogue and never had a bar mitzvah. But they were kind, respectful, confident, and consistent. They came back, not once, not twice, but every single Friday. Rain, shine, didn’t matter. There was no pressure and no agenda. Their consistency was something I had never seen before.
Eventually, I met Rabbi Kotlarsky, who directs Chabad in Arlington Heights, the Chicago suburb where I live. At that point in my journey, I wasn’t looking for religion; I was looking for answers. So I asked him every hard question I could think of. But no matter how challenging the question, he never got frustrated, never brushed me off, and never made me feel like a burden. He just listened, explained, and welcomed me in. And when he did not have the answer, he would go and find it.
Before I knew it, I was coming to Shabbat dinners, learning here and there, asking more questions ... and then came the holidays.
I’ll never forget my first Purim. I was so excited, I brought my father with me. He had health issues, but he was curious and happy to come along. And I’m so glad he did; we had the best time together. We were welcomed with joy, laughter, costumes, and even a tefillin moment ... from a guy dressed as a chicken, who turned out to be one of the same yeshivah students who visited me at my business every week.
That day meant the world to me; I still have the pictures. Because shortly thereafter, I lost my father. He had been in my care for years, and just like that ... he was gone. I was heartbroken,
