“If you encounter an ox of your enemy, or his donkey wandering, you shall return it to him” (Shemos 23:4).
The Torah is extremely mindful of the life, possessions, sensitivities and feelings of every individual. To that extent, the Torah stipulates here that one is not exempt from returning a strayed animal to its owner, even if he is his adversary. Certainly, if an individual is spiritually wayward – whether he voluntarily abandoned the Torah way, or was never raised with an understanding of Judaism – one is obligated to return him to the righteous path of Torah and Yiddishkeit.
There is much discussion about who takes precedence in one’s efforts to be mekarev (bring closer to Judaism) an individual – one who was never religious, i.e. he did not grow up observant and has no knowledge of Yiddishkeit, or one who was once religious and then became disenfranchised. Rav Moshe Shternbuch in his Sefer Teshuvos V’Hanhagos expounds on this at great length, presenting the opportunities and difficulties of both responsibilities. Truthfully, though, it should be noted that there are those who are especially well-suited for outreach work, who can answer challenging questions that may be daunting to others, and who understand the significance of their influence and effect on others.
Obviously, it is very inspiring and gratifying to know that one has successfully guided an individual or a family to radically change his way of life and become an observant Jew. The mentor has saved a generation for Yiddishkeit; it is a phenomenal accomplishment. Each time this changed individual and/or the family does a mitzvah the mentor is rewarded. On the other hand, it is an extraordinary feat when one is successful in “restoring the crown to its past glory.” It is often more challenging to reach those individuals who have become alienated from Yiddishkeit. Chances are they have been offended by something or someone, they have become disenchanted with some aspect of Yiddishkeit – there is an obstacle that is hindering their return. The individual who wants to be mekarev such a person will need to be a strong positive influence who is able to eliminate that impediment.
The Chazon Ish notes that the mishna in Avos (1:12) states, “… love people and bring them closer to Torah,” and does not require that one necessarily teach others Torah. Many may not feel equipped for the “teaching” profession, but everyone is able to draw someone closer to the sweet life of Torah and mitzvos. It is fairly easy to welcome someone for a Shabbos meal, to give someone mishloach manos, or invite someone to light the menorah.
Rav Gamliel Rabinovich noted that sometimes one can change another individual’s life with just a good word, and subsequently be credited for future generations of committed Jews. Rav Avigdor Miller suggests that an individual may possibly get a break – when purchasing a home, getting a mortgage, or finding a job – because he will be able to be mekarev a neighbor, a colleague, or an employer.
One afternoon I received a call to assist a family who was coming in from Eretz Yisrael. Their teenage girl, Ronit, was in desperate need of a kidney transplant, and they had no insurance, no funds, and no extended family whatsoever.
As we sat around the table a few days later, I noticed that the family, while being polite, maintained a distance and I surmised that it was because of all the emotional upheaval they were currently dealing with. Ronit herself always looked down towards the floor. She seemed to be a very special young lady. Her downcast expression, as everyone sat around discussing her life situation, spoke of a depth of neshama that she possessed.
An hour or so later, with a plan in place, we concluded our meeting. I assured the family that I would work together with them, and they agreed to call me again in a few days.
A few days passed and I didn’t receive any phone call. I assumed that they were extremely busy acclimating themselves, finding accommodations, and making all the necessary arrangements. When two weeks passed and I still hadn’t heard from them, I began to wonder why they were not calling. Unfortunately, I had no telephone number for them or an address, and no way to contact them. I didn’t even remember the name of the person who had made the initial introduction.
Another week or two went by and I became worried. Had they been unable to make any arrangements? Was Ronit okay? With no further contact, all I could do was to continue to be mispallel for the well-being of Ronit bas Miriam, whose name I had taken down when I met the family.
A number of weeks went by, and I had long given up hope of ever hearing from them again. Out of the blue, I received a phone call from the same man who had originally contacted me about this family so many months ago. I anxiously anticipated hearing a progress report, but before I could say anything he quickly requested that I meet the family again.
I agreed to the suggested day and time, and once again we were all sitting together at the table. The family, looking even more downcast than the first time, informed me that they had not made much progress since our last meeting.
Incredulous, I asked, “Why haven’t you called back all this time?”
Looking embarrassed, the mother replied, “The first time we came to meet you we had no idea that we would be meeting with a dati (religious person). After we saw how religious you are, we knew that you could not help irreligious people like us. So, we didn’t bother you anymore. Just two days ago we called the person in Israel, who had initially suggested that we come to you, and we were bemoaning our plight. He was surprised to hear of our lack of progress and asked me if we had met with you. I explained that we felt we had come to the wrong address.
“The man answered, ‘You were not at the wrong address. He will help you. It doesn’t matter to him whether you are dati or not.’ He ordered us to go back to you, and so here we are.”
I could not believe my ears. I felt bad that Ronit had waited half a year in pain because of a misperception.
We again mapped out a strategy and immediately began working on several fronts to help Ronit and the family. Ronit was placed on a waiting list for a kidney transplant and necessary treatments were begun at a local health facility. Askanim in the community provided the family with food and clothing, and living quarters were arranged at a very low rent. The chesed on any given day was awe-inspiring, and an entire team of bais yaakov students became involved with the family on a regular basis. There was no shortage of volunteers willing to drive Ronit to and from her treatments, which took a couple of hours.
As the weeks went by, Ronit developed a friendship with some of the students. They talked about everything – including life, Torah, mitzvos – and the girls were making an impact on Ronit and her family. Ronit’s father began to attend the small shul in the neighborhood every Shabbos. The groceries that were provided each week also included Shabbos candles, and Ronit’s mother began to light the Shabbos candles.
As the entire family progressed in their spiritual development, word had begun to spread in the community of this family’s predicament. Tefillos increased, and the name Ronit bas Miriam appeared on shtenders and siddurim throughout the world. It wasn’t long before a donor was miraculously found for Ronit. Her transplant was a success and after weeks of recuperation, Ronit and her family returned to Eretz Yisrael, renewed in body and soul.
With a new kidney, not only had Ronit been granted a new lease on life, but all of the family had been spiritually inspired with a second chance in life.
