My Father! My Father!

As soon as we arrived at our first stop, in the city of S. Jose, we come across a Jew, a shochet from Israel, who is on his way home. He was very surprised to see us walking down the street of an almost "Jewless" city. We told who we are and what were doing. He replied, "You're Chabad? Let me show you something." Out of his wallet, he pulled an original copy of a letter that the Rebbe, of blessed memory, sent to him around 35 years ago, in which the Rebbe wrote on the bottom, "And may you have much success in the dissemination of Torah and mitzvahs."

What a start!

"It's been two years since I put on tefillin."

We visited a man who can neither walk nor talk. As soon as we came in, his face lit up. He was so happy to see us. He started motioning frantically with his hands. We couldn't understand what he was saying. Finally, he took out a paper and wrote (in Spanish): "It's been two years since I put on tefillin." We were awestruck. This man can barely do anything. Yet, he is bothered by the fact that he was not able to do the mitzvah of tefillin. We helped him out with a few things he needed around the house. He bought a book about Judaism from us and insisted on paying, although we tried to convince him that he should take it as a gift.

With our Yiddish-speaking friend.

We met an older Jew who told us that he doesn't believe in G‑d. We told him that although he doesn't believe in G‑d, G‑d believes in him. He smiled. We offered to lay tefillin. with him. He refused, saying he never did it before and doesn't want to do anything Jewish, and feeling Jewish inside is enough.

We spoke to him in Yiddish. He liked that since it reminded him of his parents and the olden days. Our conversation went on for over an hour, all in Yiddish. At this point, we were close friends. Before we left, we asked him again if he's sure he doesn't want to put on tefillin. He relented. We helped him with the straps, and he repeated after us, "Baruch … atah ..." Suddenly, he burst out crying, tears running freely. Putting a hand on his shoulder, not really sure what to say, we reassured him that right now he's connected to G‑d in a special way. He said, choking, "Mein tateh, mein tateh (my father, my father)." He chanted the Shema, all the while sobbing.

Before we left, we hugged warmly, and he told us to please come back.

Installing a mezuzah.