I have a dear friend, Rabbi Mordechai Farkash, who once shared with me a story he heard first-hand from the person himself.
This man lived in Israel. For many years, he had been a successful businessman. But over time, things began to unravel. His finances collapsed and his debts mounted, and with that his anxiety, fear, and sense of failure grew unbearable. Eventually, his isolation and depression became so heavy that he simply couldn’t bear the weight anymore. In his despair, he decided that he would end his life.
That morning, he planned that on his way to work, he would stop on one of the bridges outside the city and take his own life, ending what felt like endless pain.
As he was leaving the house, his wife called out to him. “Could you do me a small favor?” she asked gently. “Our son is learning in the Chabad Yeshiva. I prepared a small package of some snacks, some food, a little gift. Could you please drop it off for him on your way?”
For a moment, he hesitated. But then he thought to himself, “What kind of father would I be if I couldn’t even do one last favor for my wife — for my son — before I go?” He took the bag, got in his car, and drove toward Jerusalem.
He arrived at the Chabad Yeshiva and asked to see his son. The mashgiach, the spiritual supervisor, greeted him warmly and said, “Your son is learning right now with such focus. I’d rather not interrupt him. If you’d like, I can give him the package myself.”
The father nodded and handed it over. But before he could leave, the mashgiach looked at him and asked, “Tell me, are you a delivery man, or are you the father of the boy?”
“I’m his father,” he replied quietly. The mashgiach smiled. “Then I want you to know something,” he said. “This entire yeshiva could have been created just for your son. You have no idea what a diamond of a boy you have. His sincerity, his diligence, his humility, I can’t even describe it. You and your wife must have tremendous merit to have raised such an extraordinary young man. You should have endless nachas — endless pride — from him.”
The mashgiach went on for a few more moments, praising the boy, overflowing with warmth and sincerity. Then he said, “Thank you for bringing the package. I’ll make sure he gets it. Have a beautiful day.”
The father left the yeshiva and walked slowly back to his car. His heart was pounding. He thought to himself: “I just heard what kind of son I have. What kind of pain would I bring him if I ended my life today? How could I do that to him — to leave him forever with the knowledge that his father took his own life?”
In that moment, something shifted. He changed his plans. He did not go to the bridge. He went home.
Soon after, he left Israel, began rebuilding his life in another country, and eventually shared this story with Rabbi Farkash. The story of how a few kind words had saved him from the brink of death.
That mashgiach will probably never know what he did that day. He didn’t preach. He didn’t lecture. He simply noticed, cared, and spoke from his heart. He wasn’t stingy with his love.
And those few sentences — those words of warmth, of belief, of encouragement — saved a man’s life.
Never hold back words of love. Never assume someone already knows how much they matter. Because you never know, the small kindness you give, the simple words you speak, may reach deeper than you can ever imagine.
Sometimes, all it takes to bring someone back from the edge is one person who chooses not to be stingy with love.
