Quest, the father beside me, also pushing his child in a swing, smiled in sympathetic understanding.
I introduced myself and he reciprocated, and I asked him what he did for work.
“I’m in finance,” he answered. “How about you?”
“I lead a factory demonstration for kids, explaining how shofars for Rosh Hashanah are made,” I said.
He was thoughtful for a moment.
“It’s funny,” he began, hesitantly. “When I was a kid, my mom signed me up for Hebrew school. I only attended for a short time, so I didn’t get a chance to learn much, but I do remember participating in a Shofar Factory and making my own shofar.
“That shofar sat in my room until I left for college. I’m still not sure why, but something compelled me to pack it in my suitcase and take it along with me. I kept it throughout college, and brought it along after graduation.
“I’m now married, and my wife isn’t Jewish, but the shofar has a place on our mantel. It reminds me that I’m a Jew whenever I see it.”
I was moved by his story, and it gave me all the inspiration and motivation I needed for beginning my new shlichus. If a single Shofar Factory could have made such an impression on this man, I knew the work on which I was about to embark was important and could change lives.
