By Rabbi Yechiel Spero
Standing inside a Meah Shearim shul in a long ponytail, a tank top, shorts, and sandals, the man most definitely stood out among the congregants normally gathered there to daven. Perhaps he had gotten lost and somehow landed there? But he seemed to have a purpose in coming that day, as he turned to Rav Tzvi Pesach Frank, the rav of Yerushalayim, and asked him directly, “When is Minchah? Can I lead the davening?”
What a ludicrous request! The man was not dressed appropriately. Shockingly, though, Rav Tzvi Pesach said that it was time for Minchah and directed him to the amud to lead the davening. Whoever heard the exchange was flabbergasted. That man is going to be the chazzan? How could the rav allow this?
Nevertheless, no one dared oppose the direct ruling of the rav of Yerushalayim. The man led the congregation through the recitation of Minchah. Soon after, Rav Tzvi Pesach motioned to him to continue, and he davened Maariv, as well. When he was finished, he turned and walked out the door.
Immediately, the befuddled crowd approached Rav Tzvi Pesach to gain some clarity into his actions. Rav Tzvi Pesach’s response was cryptic. “If I would not have allowed him to daven, no one else would have allowed him either.”
The following day, the man returned once more, this time in a proper shirt. The day after that, he had added long pants. After a week, the fellow was about to leave after his Minchah/Maariv duties when Rav Tzvi Pesach managed to stop him and get in a shalom aleichem.
“Nitzachtani, you’ve won me over!” the man exclaimed and began to cry. Rav Tzvi Pesach was confused. All he had done was say shalom aleichem to the man, but he was afraid that he had triggered something painful.
And then, quite suddenly, the man ran out of the shul. Though Rav Tzvi Pesach hoped that the man would return and the rav would be able to find out what had gotten him so upset, the man did not come back the next day. A full week passed, and then another. Finally, three weeks later, the fellow walked in, dressed from head to toe like the other men in the shul.
Once more, Rav Tzvi Pesach approached him and again the man began to cry. This time, though, he composed himself and told his story: One month ago, I came here directly from the funeral of my mother, who passed away at the age of ninety-six. I loved her so much. She was my world, and now she was gone. Though I was raised religious, I had thrown the yoke of Torah and everything that I’d been taught and went off to an irreligious kibbutz.
Before she died, my mother had one request: that I say Kaddish for her. I didn’t know what to do. Where would I go? Besides, I had no interest in saying Kaddish, so I decided to perform a test. I would go to a shul in Meah Shearim, and if they allowed me to daven for the amud, I would continue to recite the Kaddish for her. But if they would turn me away — which seemed more likely — I promised myself I would never walk into such a place again. Even more, I would do the absolutely worst things a Jew could ever do.
“As I said, I was almost certain you wouldn’t allow me to daven. But you did. I felt like I wanted to show a little more respect the next time, so I wore a proper shirt and then long pants, but I still wasn’t prepared to fully embrace your standards. But after a week, I felt that I had been won over. During all those days in which I davened for the amud, no one said a bad word to me. You even allowed me to take my time and go at my own pace toward adopting your standards.
“At that point, I realized that the life I had been living was not the life I wanted to continue to live. My mother was a smart woman. She knew I just needed another taste of Yiddishkeit and I would be hooked. Well, I went back to my kibbutz, and seeing with my own eyes that there was no life for me there, I packed up my stuff. I’m going to live here, where I can continue to grow. And then he concluded, “Nitzachtani — You’ve won me over.”
Reprinted from the Parshas Lech Lecha 5784 edition of At the ArtScroll Shabbos Table. Excerpted from the ArtScroll book – “The Soul of Kaddish” by Rabbi Yechiel Spero.
