I met Ruslan just before Sukkos, and invited him to join us for Yom Tov. Ruslan had only recently emigrated from Russia and spoke very poor English. He came for Sukkos, and for Shabbos after that, but was clearly uncomfortable. He felt out of place, and it frustrated him to not be able to communicate. Slowly but surely, his English improved, and he began to open up more.
I invited Ruslan to sign up for Sinai Scholars. That semester, only two other students joined. By the third class, they’d both flaked, and it was just me and Ruslan, week after week. We both enjoyed our one-on-one classes, and developed a close relationship.
JLI, Sinai Scholars’ parent organization, holds a retreat every year, which includes special programming for 150 Sinai Scholar students. I highly encouraged Ruslan to register. Mirel and I attended the retreat as well, as shluchim chaperones.
The retreat was held in a gorgeous hotel in Palm Springs, but Ruslan couldn’t enjoy any part of it for the first day or two. He was confined to his room with a virus, which, baruch Hashem, soon cleared up, and he was eventually able to join the sessions and programs.
On the final night of the retreat, the shluchim and a group of about thirty students, farbrenged deep into the night. As the hours wore on, the farbrengen intensified. It was already past 3 in the morning, when one of the shluchim asked everyone around the table to share their experience from the retreat, and to publicly declare which mitzvah they’d commit to from then on.
When it was Ruslan’s turn, he shared how he’d come to Chabad, and how he’d felt so uncomfortable to begin with. In describing his feelings, he became very emotional, and everyone listened sympathetically.
“I’m an only child,” Ruslan said. “Until today, I thought I had no siblings. Now I know I have 150 brothers and sisters.”
Tears sprung to everyone’s eyes.
“I commit to wearing tefillin every day!” Ruslan declared.
“Do you have your own pair?” a shliach asked him. “If not, I’d be happy to gift you a pair.”
“I don’t,” Ruslan replied. “But I don’t want to accept gifts. I’ll start saving money now, and I’ll buy the tefillin myself when I have enough.”
“But that could take a while, and every day gone is a wasted opportunity to do the mitzvah!” the shliach argued. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll get you a pair now, and when you save enough to buy a pair, give them to a friend!”
Ruslan reluctantly agreed.
The next day was the farewell luncheon. One of the highlights of the luncheon was the raffle drawing. Throughout the retreat, students had written down their mitzvah commitments on cards and slipped them into a box. Now, a few lucky cards would be drawn as winners of various prizes. Winner after winner was called out and congratulated, until finally they reached the last prize: a brand new pair of tefillin. The student picking the raffle had been at the farbrengen the night before, and as she drew the final card, her eyes widened. She beamed as she called out, “Ruslan!” The entire room erupted in cheers! So many students had been at the farbrengen when Ruslan had bared his soul, and the deep significance of the moment was not lost on them. Those who were confused by the heightened excitement were quickly filled in, and more than a few people wiped away their tears as Ruslan hugged his new tefillin tightly to his chest.
