Rav Yisrael Eliyahu Shapiro shlita, a Rav in Miami, was once sitting in a kosher restaurant. There was a large group of people was in the restaurant, and a waiter was serving each of the diners his portion. The rav sitting on the side immediately realized the waiter was no foreigner; he was a fellow Jew. Unfortunately, he did not look like a Jew who keeps Torah and mitzvos, but undoubtedly, he was a Jew.
As the waiter was serving one of the diners his portion, the head of the group approached him with an angry expression. Something did not find favor in his eyes. “Excuse me,” he said to the waiter, “you gave me a meal I didn’t order! I’m not having any of this. What’s going on here?” His angry tirade continued, his voice rising by the minute. The waiter kept quiet. He had not been the one responsible for taking orders, and he had no idea how the mistake had occurred. His job was to serve the food, and he had done so faithfully.
Only after the head of the group completed his litany of complaints did he realize that he was addressing the wrong person; but for the waiter it was already too late. He sat down weakly in the corner, humiliated and degraded.
Rav Shapira could not bear this. The waiter was a Jew! His meek expression gave the rav no rest. He just had to go over and encourage him. He acted on his good intentions immediately, went over to the waiter, and said, “Good for you! I’m not sure if, in your place, I would have been able to keep quiet like this. He yelled at you and put you down, and you just absorbed it all without saying a word. Kol hakavod! You should know that the power that comes from not responding when you’re shamed is very great. Please, give me a brachah!”
The rav’s words, which emerged straight from the depths of his heart, entered the waiter’s heart. He held his head higher and blessed the rav with all the good words he knew. Afterward, they continued talking. The waiter related that he’d had a painful and difficult past. He came from a religious family in Eretz Yisrael, and, lured by bad friends, he had left the proper path. He found work as a waiter, but the peace and serenity that his yetzer hara had promised him was nonexistent. He wanted so badly to come back, but he had no idea how.
“And here,” the waiter concluded emotionally, “I meet the rav! And you display such caring, such power. Only a Jew truly cares about another Jew. I want to stay in touch with the rav and strengthen myself.”
The rav gave him his phone number, and the waiter indeed made contact with him, connected to the community, and returned to a life of Torah and mitzvos.
The power of a good word!
