Rebbetzin Sarah Meisels
Danny’s Amen
באו ורשו את הארץ אשר נשבע ד' לאבתיכם
Come and possess the land which Hashem has sworn to your forefathers... (Devarim 1:8)
On one occasion, I had the opportunity to speak to four hundred teachers at a Yom Iyun seminar in Jerusalem. At this event was a young man helping to manage the microphone system, which happened to be having some technical issues. I went on to deliver my talk, after which the young man drove me home. Having heard most of my speech, which centered around the power of saying “Amen,” he asked if I would like to hear a story. “Of course I would,” I said; “please go ahead.”
“I used to be a soldier in the Israeli Army. It was 1982 and Israel was fighting Lebanon in what would come to be known as Milchemet Shalom HaGalil. My battalion had been stationed in Metula, a city bordering Lebanon. We all waited for the signal to enter Lebanon, although we were unsure what the future held.
One late afternoon, as we stood all gathered together, one of the religious soldiers yelled, “It’s close to sunset! Time to daven Mincha!” Complying with the call, the multitude of soldiers assembled together to pray. Except for one whose name was Danny. He was completely irreligious and had just about no connection to Judaism. However, as he noticed all the soldiers heading somewhere, he grew curious. “Where is everyone going?” he asked. “We’re praying Mincha now,” they told him. While all the soldiers were understandably nervous about the war and praying served as a source of comfort and confidence that they would be watched over and protected by Hashem, Danny felt the same. “I’m also afraid,” he said, “and I want to do something. But I don’t know how to pray.”
Quickly thinking, we asked him, “Do you know how to answer Amen?” Responding in the affirmative, we told him that any time he heard a blessing being made, he should say “Amen!” aloud. By doing so and bearing in mind that with this declaration he was affirming his belief in Hashem, he would be doing something that would serve as a tremendous merit.
For the next three weeks, every time Danny heard a blessing, he loudly answered “Amen!” with the greatest of concentration. It was something special to see. When the war ended three weeks later, I returned home to Jerusalem and Danny headed back home to the north of Israel where he lived on a kibbutz.
Six years later, I was walking in Jerusalem when, all of a sudden, I felt a pat on my back. Turning around to see if someone was trying to catch my attention, a man with a black beard, suit and hat stood there. “Shalom Aleichem!” he said. “Do you recognize me?” Looking closely at the man, I had no idea who he was. “I’m sorry, but I never met you before in my life.” “Don’t you remember? Think again. Remember Danny, Mincha, Metula…” As he mentioned those words, a picture of Danny six years before came to mind. But I still couldn’t believe that the person standing in front of me was actually Danny. After all, he had been completely disaffiliated from Judaism before. “Danny, what happened?” I curiously asked. “Let me tell you,” he began to say.
After I returned to the kibbutz following the war, for the next few months, the word “Amen” was echoing in my mind. Everywhere I went, I kept on thinking about Amen. At that point, I knew I needed to discover the true meaning of this powerful word. Getting on my motorcycle, I drove to Jerusalem in search of an answer. When I arrived, I approached the first religious Jew I saw and asked to be directed to the closest yeshiva. Telling me about Ohr Somayach, I proceeded to go there and ask the Rosh Yeshiva to fully explain the meaning and import of the word Amen. From learning about the tremendous significance of Amen, I continued on to learning about making berachot, then keeping kosher and then observing Shabbat. For the next two years, I remained studying in Ohr Somayach and did not once go home. I would phone my parents, but I wished to immerse myself in learning Torah and soaking up the yeshiva environment. After two years, I finally decided to make a trip home and visit my family.
Walking into my house, my mother was not too happy in seeing how far I progressed in my pursuit of Judaism and my father was quite angry. They stilled loved me, but my religious growth was something they were not expecting. And then I saw my grandfather. “Danny,” he said, “we’re going to a lawyer.” Not sure what my growth in Judaism had to do with a lawyer, I asked what he meant. “Danny, you became religious and have taken things too far. We are going to a lawyer and I will tell him to take you off my will.” My grandfather was quite a wealthy man, and this meant losing out on quite an inheritance. But that would not stop me. Without hesitation, I turned around and headed back to Ohr Somayach.
Continuing to learn in the yeshiva, not too long thereafter, I met a wonderful girl and planned on getting married. Hearing about my engagement, my family came to Jerusalem to see me.
As my father and grandfather arrived, I noticed that they were both wearing a yarmulke. Uncharacteristic for them to do so, I inquisitively asked what had happened. “Listen Danny,” said my grandfather, “I want to tell you something.”
“When I was a young boy living with my family in Poland, the Nazis entered my hometown. And to my chagrin, they literally ruined everything and took away everyone. My entire family and my friends and yeshiva did not survive. I was left alone. I then made aliyah to Israel where I looked to rebuild myself. I went on to marry your grandmother and raise your father. He was our only child. After your father grew up and got married, he was blessed to have two boys: you, and your brother, Rafi. Seven years ago, your brother disappeared in Thailand. We do not know what happened and we have never heard from him since.
After having seen you take major strides in Judaism, however, I have come to the conclusion at this stage in my life that your way is the best way. And so, I have begun to make my own steps in furthering my commitment to Torah and mitzvot. I realize that this is the true way for a Jew to live.
And so, Danny, after your wedding and sheva berachot, we are going to return to the lawyer and redo the paperwork. Everything in my will is yours.
As this boy who was driving me home related this moving story to me, I was quite touched. But then he added, “Rebbetzin, although Danny inherited his grandfather’s estate, he in truth inherited something much more precious. The inheritance of a Torah life – “Torah tziva lanu Moshe morasha kehillat Yaakov” – “The Torah which Moshe commanded us is the inheritance of the Congregation of Jacob” (Devarim 33:4).
Danny today lives in Jerusalem with his beautiful family and continues to learn in a community Kollel. It all started from the one word of Amen. From the smallest of steps taken in coming closer to Hashem and His Torah, the greatest of leaps can eventually be made. All it takes is one little word, and from there, the rest is history.
