By Nechama Bar
This story took place over 40 years ago. Reb Yitzchok Nemes, of blessed memory, a stamp dealer who lived in Crown Heights, was offered a deal that would earn him a lot of money. R’ Yitzchok went to meet with Tenkel, another stamp dealer. They sat down to discuss the deal but in the end, the idea was dropped.
R’ Yitzchok saw the divine providence in this. “If I came here already,” he figured, “I should use the opportunity to convince him to do more mitzvos.” R’ Yitzchok asked the man directly, “Is your business open on Shabbos?”
“Yes, of course,” said Tenkel, “that’s when I earn enough for the entire week!”
“Tenkel, you should close the business on Shabbos. I am sure you will only profit thereby,” said R’ Yitzchok persuasively. But the man started looking irritated; he did not like having his business mixed into.
R’ Yitzchok did not give up. When he returned home, he discussed it with Rabbi Chadakov, the Rebbe’s secretary. He asked for advice on how to convince the man to do more mitzvos.
“Try to convince him to make kiddush and eat kosher,” R’ Chadakov suggested.
The next time R’ Yitzchok met with Tenkel, he said, “How about starting to make kiddush on Shabbos and keeping kosher? You know, the Shabbos meal unites the family and kosher food is even healthier …”
Tenkel smiled; he saw who he was dealing with. “Look, making kiddush is easy enough, but kashrus won’t work. My wife won’t agree to that.”
R’ Yitzchok left disappointed but with some hope that the day would come and something would change in Tenkel’s heart.
Time passed and Tenkel and his wife went to Belgium. He had no idea that their pleasure trip would end in grief.
A terrible car accident ended their happy life. His wife was killed on the spot and Tenkel, after spending time in the hospital, physically recovered but was brokenhearted.
R’ Yitzchok heard about what had happened and as a faithful acquaintance he went to Tenkel’s home to console him. He tried again to speak about matters of holiness. He thought that now it would be easier to convince him to make a good resolution.
“You, who survived, can be of help to your wife’s soul,” he said gently. “Every mitzva that you do for the elevation of her soul will cause her great joy. I suggest that you start with kashrus.”
The grief-stricken man said vehemently, “No! Previously, there was someone who prepared food for me, but now, I am alone … To start changing habits and cook kosher food for myself? No!”
“Don’t worry,” R’ Yitzchok immediately said reassuringly. “I didn’t mean that you should prepare the food yourself. I’ll bring you frozen kosher food and you’ll just have to heat it up.”
Tenkel was moved by the offer and could no longer refuse. R’ Yitzchok was thrilled. Finally, Tenkel would start eating kosher.
The project was a lot harder than he imagined. There were no kosher frozen meals to be purchased in Crown Heights stores. Only one factory in the area made food like this, Schreiber’s, which could be purchased from its store in the Bronx. Each box cost $1.50 which made it $45 a month, a significant sum at that time, but the difficulties did not diminish his joy in enabling a Jew to eat kosher food.
That is how the weekly trip started. Every Thursday, R’ Yitzchok would get on the subway to go to the Schreiber factory, buy seven portions of food (more was too heavy to carry), go from there directly to Tenkel’s home in Riverdale, and then take the train back home.
This went on for more than a year and a half, total devotion and responsibility for a fellow Jew. In rain, in snow, and in freezing cold. No family event, or any other consideration, was more important.
One day, R’ Yitzchok knocked on the door of the house, with the packages of food in his hand. Tenkel opened the door, took the food and said, “I really respect the efforts that you are making for me, but I would suggest that we stop this now.”
R’ Yitzchok was stunned. He had hoped that Tenkel would have gotten used to the idea of eating kosher, and would not think of going back to eating not kosher, so he tried to calm him by saying, “It’s okay. I actually enjoy doing it. There is no need to feel uncomfortable.”
But the businessman did not give up, “Eh, look, the food is too salty,” he added. “Really?” said R’ Yitzchok. “It’s a shame that you did not tell me sooner. I will ask them to make the food less salty for you. I apologize for causing you any problems.”
“Oh no, you didn’t cause me any problem, I just never ate it.”
“What? You never ate the food that I brought you? So what did you do with it?”
Tenkel did not try to hide the truth any further. He said, “Eh… eh… I gave it to my… dog.”
R’ Yitzchok felt terrible. Could it be? All of his efforts were for nothing?
* * *
Two years passed. One Thursday, the phone rang in the Nemes home. “Could you host a student from the University of Pennsylvania for Shabbos?”
“Happily,” replied Mrs. Nemes.
The next day, a tall young man with a small suitcase appeared at their door. The young man enjoyed the warm hospitality and the pleasant conversation with the members of the family. As the conversation moved from topic to topic, he decided to share what had brought him there for Shabbos: “My grandfather told me that a few years ago there was a Jew from Crown Heights who went to the bother of bringing him kosher food every week for a year and a half. I was so impressed by the caring of that Jew, and it interested me to meet these special people. That is why I decided to spend a Shabbos in this community.”
Mrs. Nemes nearly fell off her chair, “Is your grandfather called Tenkel?”
“How do you know?” The student was shocked. “Do you know my family?”
“Of course I know them. My husband is the one who traveled to bring him the food!” she said excitedly.
Silence fell over the room. Another Jewish neshama had come back to its source. It was not the grandfather, but the grandson ended up becoming fully observant and a Lubavitcher Chassid, thanks to the kosher food…
* * *
True mesirus nefesh never goes to waste. It is true, at times we put in a lot and do not see success right away, but for sure, every effort brings nachas to the Rebbe, and we can never know what the results will be.
We need to do all that we can, until we see the final result, the revelation of the Rebbe Melech HaMoshiach, mamash now.