Towards the end of my Shana Bet in Yeshiva, my parents (who live in Israel) offered to host a shiur shabbaton for our shiur of about 25 guys. The only "rule" was that each guy had to give a d'var Torah at some point over shabbos. Came Shalosh Seudos time as the sun was setting, and one last guy took his turn to address the group. He was a little bit older than the rest of us and he had joined the yeshiva and our shiur just a few weeks before that. No one really knew that much about his story. We just knew he was bright, a little older and seemed to have a background in learning. the following is more or less what he said:
Instead of saying a d'var Torah, I want to take the opportunity to share my story with you.
I grew up in a "yeshivish" community and was really into my learning. Towards the end of high school some friends and I decided that after graduation we would enroll in the most intense yeshiva in America we could find. We ended up in a particularly "yeshivish" place in the middle of nowhere and the learning was great. At the time, I was pretty naive and oblivious to a lot of the politics that plague the frum community and so it was news to me when a rebbe of mine started telling us about this rasha by the name of "JB"... Being curious to learn more about this character, it didn't take me long to find out that "JB" was not only a rabbi, but actually a prominent Rosh Yeshiva and the grandson of Rav Chaim Brisker - none other than the Rav z"l!
I was very disturbed and upset by the way my rebbe spoke about this great talmid chacham. These feelings began a gradual, downward spiral that caused me to question everything and become increasingly critical and cynical. I eventually got so fed-up that I left yeshiva and gave up my yarmulke and my religious observance. I was confused and upset and headed out on an aimless road trip to try and find true meaning in life.
My long road trip took me cross-country and landed me in Venice Beach California - a far cry from the insular community of my youth or any yeshiva I had attended. There was certainly no trace of yiddishkeit to be found and I tried to convince myself that I was just fine with that. I took jobs working in some of the local bars and clubs and made enough money to get by. Suffice it to say that in the ensuing months my lifestyle became farther away from anything I had ever envisioned for myself.
Late one Friday night after my shift I was wandering aimlessly on the beach when a tune in the distance caught my ear... It sounded like someone was singing farther down the beach. It was coming from pretty far away but the tune sounded strangely familiar to me... I began to walk in the direction of the music and as I got closer, it was unmistakable - someone was actually singing a niggun!
"Dovid melech, melech yisroel.......siman siman tov..... mazal mazal tov...".
You can imagine my shock when I discovered that the mystery singer was a non-Jewish, homeless, black man sitting on the beach. I asked him how he knew that tune and he explained that years earlier, he had met a Rabbi by the name of Shlomo Carlbach, This rabbi was so kind to him and had taught him some Jewish tunes to help cheer his soul. The homeless man was so grateful for Rav Shlomo's kindness that he decided that every Friday night he would take some time to sing these tunes. I didn't know much about Rav Shlomo at the time, but I did recognize the niggunim and was touched by this man's story.
I decided to return each Friday night for then next several weeks to enjoy a "kumzitz" with my new homeless friend, and eventually I began thinking to myself that I had given up on yiddishkeit a little too quickly.
I slowly started getting my life back in order and eventually headed back east with a kippa on my head and a desire to give my frum lifestyle a second chance. A few weeks ago I made a decision to come to Israel and learn in a Yeshiva in Yerushalayim... so here I am...."
Needless to say - everyone in the room was SHOCKED... and inspired by how far a simple act of kindness can go....
