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Weekly Chasidic Story #728 (s5772-07 /10 Cheshvan 5772) A Unique Guest The synagogue was quite an impressive structure considering its location in a part of England not known for Jewish communities. Unfortunately, it felt desolate and was nearly uninhabited. Connection: Weekly Torah - Hospitality
A Unique Guest
What happened? He set out early enough on Friday to be able to reach London with plenty of time to spare before Shabbat began, except that his car broke down on the highway and he was forced to have it towed to the nearest town, to a garage there. The repair took many hours, and even before it was finished it became clear that he would never be able to get back to London before sunset. So Yitzchak found himself stuck in a small town that he had barely heard of, where he didn't know a single person. His inquiries revealed that there was a synagogue, thank G-d, and he managed to rent a hotel room within walking distance and find a bit of food in a supermarket with kosher certification. When Queen Shabbat arrived, Yitzchak walked to the synagogue. It was quite an impressive structure considering its location in an area not known for Jewish communities. Unfortunately, it felt desolate and even now at the start of Shabbat there was hardly anyone there. With great difficulty a minyan was finally assembled, yet most of its members did not appear to Yitzchak's eye to be particularly mitzvah-observant. One of the religious-looking older men had a thick beard. He approached Yitzchak, shook his hand enthusiastically, and then without introduction or preamble asked him in not-so-fluent English and in an almost pleading tone if he would consent to be his guest for Shabbat. Yitzchak was surprised that the elderly Jew had spoken to him in English. He responded in Yiddish that he would be happy to accept the invitation. The old man's face lit up, and without another word he returned to his seat for the continuation of the prayers. Afterwards, they left the synagogue together. His host introduced himself as Yaakov Frankenovich, adding that everyone called him Yankel. When they reached his apartment building Yankel mentioned apologetically that they had to walk up many stairs. It became obvious to Yitzchak after one flight or so that the climb was a great strain on his companion. The apartment was quite small. Yitzchak perceived simultaneously that Yanked lived alone, and yet the table in the middle of the room was set for two. His host saw the wonder on his face, smiled, and remarked that he so desired to have a guest that for years (!) now he had been setting a second place in anticipation. The meal turned out to be surprisingly enjoyable. Hours went by in Torah discussion and singing the songs of Shabbat until it was quite late at night. Yitzchak rose from the table, happy but exhausted, to return to the hotel. To his shock, Yankel pleaded with him to remain and be his guest for sleeping over also. It seemed such an urgent matter for his host that Yitzchak felt he had no choice but to accept, even though he had already paid for his hotel room. The whole evening he had wondered why Yankel did not move in all these years to a bigger city with a larger, established Jewish community, including others that were religiously observant like him. Before they lay down to sleep, he finally asked him. Yankel promised to tell him his whole story, but not until the Third Meal, at the end of the holy day. Throughout the night Yankel had prolonged severe coughing fits. In the morning Yitzchak tried to convince him not to walk to shul, but to stay home and rest. The old man refused to consider it. In their long slow strolls back and forth between shul and home, the two men became friendlier and closer. Yitzchak was especially impressed with the strong faith of his elder companion and the whole-hearted innocence with which he related to and served the Al-mighty. Finally, at the Third Meal, Yankel opened up about himself, as he had promised. He was born in Russia. When he was still a child, in the early stages of the Bolshevik Revolution, his grandfather decided that Russia was no longer a safe place for them to live, and the entire family uprooted to England. They settled in this same small town, where they lived in near poverty, but happily free of fear and persecution. As a result of their pioneering presence, other Jewish immigrant families moved to the town as well. Eventually there was a significant Jewish community, and they built a fine synagogue. His grandfather and grandmother were hospitable to an extreme, and his grandfather always managed to come up with a generous donation to give to anyone who needed it, unless the person was too embarrassed to accept such a gift, in which case he would extent it as a loan. With the passage of time, the community became caught up in the spirit of "progress." The younger generation mostly moved away to areas distant from their parents, and of the minority that remained, their children, the third generation, moved away too. When Yankel grew up, his grandfather was already quite old and the Jewish population greatly diminished. He tried many times to convince his grandfather to move to a different city with a larger Jewish community, but he always refused, saying that since they were the founding pillars of the community, they were obligated to stay. Before passing away, the grandfather requested that Yankel too not abandon the community by moving away. He told him that just the fact that in his house a Jew could find a place to stay and enjoy some kosher food was in itself justification for him to remain. "Who knows?" he concluded his request; "Perhaps someday a Jewish traveler will show up, and you will be able to fulfill the blessed mitzvah of hospitality." As Yitzchak realized that he was the guest that his new close friend had been awaiting all these years - decades even! - tears welled in his eyes. His elderly host tried to continue speaking, but another difficult coughing spell forced him to pause. Finally he resumed. "Please don't feel sorry for me," he said. "Really the opposite is true. You can't know how much gratitude I feel towards you that you enabled me to have the merit of fulfilling the mitzvah of bringing home a guest. Now I feel that I have fulfilled my mission from my grandfather." On Saturday night Yitzchak left as soon as he could to get home. But he promised Yankel to return to visit. He was concerned about his welfare and anyway he wanted to bring him a nice present. A few days later he was able to travel north again. He drove directly to Yankel's house, but to his knock on the door there was no response. Already worried, Yitzchak hurriedly drove over to the synagogue. He found the attendant in charge and asked him about Yankel. The man looked at him sadly and answered that the old man had passed away just that Sunday. "He came to shul, suffered a severe coughing attack, and died right here!" Suddenly the synagogue manager's gaze focused more intently on Yitzchak, and he said, "One moment, aren't you the guest that was here this past Shabbat? I have something for you. Yankel left this package on his table, and it has your name on it." With great emotion, Yitzchak hurried to open the package. Inside were a few
books and a letter. He began to read: Yitzchak cried quietly. When he heard there was no one to say kaddish for the deceased, he promised that he himself would do it. From that day on, Yitzchak made it a rule in his household that an extra place should always be set at the table, for any guest who might happen to appear. In addition to his own mitzvah, he wanted this practice to be an ongoing memorial for Yankel's dedication and love his entire live for the mitzvah of hospitality. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Connection: Weekly Reading - hospitality
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Yerachmiel
Tilles is co-founder and associate director of Ascent-of-Safed, and chief editor
of this website (and of KabbalaOnline.org). He has hundreds of published stories
to his credit, and many have been translated into other languages. He tells
them live at Ascent nearly every Saturday night.