One extremely hot morning in the Beit Hakeneset named after Rabbi Chaim Pinto, zy”a, in Los Angeles, the air-conditioning suddenly came to a halt. The heat began spreading through my body, and I felt the air leave my lungs. I decided to step outside to inhale some fresh air.
Suddenly, a man passed by on a bike. Seeing me wrapped in tallit and tefillin, he could not take his eyes off me. He rode straight into the wall of the synagogue and fell from his bike. I helped him back on his feet and asked if he was okay. Brushing off the dust, he quickly answered that he was fine. I asked, “What made you stare at me like that, to the point that you didn’t see where you were going?”
“Honored Rav, I am forty-six years old. In all my life, only once did I wear tefillin. That was when I turned bar mitzvah. Since then, I have not worn tefillin again.
“Watching you wrapped in tallit and tefillin brought back memories of those tefillin that have lain neglected for thirty-three years. I have not set foot in a Beit Hakeneset for years, and I don’t even fast or go to the synagogue for prayers on Yom Kippur.”
I invited him into the Beit Hakeneset and offered him my tefillin to use. I promised to obtain a pair of kosher tefillin for him. He accepted my offer of entering the synagogue and donning my tefillin, but declined my offer to buy him tefillin. Money was not an object, and he could secure his own pair.
After wearing the tefillin, he turned to me emotionally and said, “Many years ago, my mother was diagnosed with cancer, which had spread throughout her body. Her doctors despaired of her recovery, giving her no more than a month to live. At that time, my mother approached the Rav to ask for a blessing for her recovery. The Rav said that if she would observe Shabbat and kashrut, she would be completely cured.
“My mother accepted your advice, having no other recourse. Baruch Hashem, today, six years later, she is alive and healthy.”
After a few emotional moments, the man continued, “I have always wanted to meet the Rabbi who cured my mother. But every time he comes, I am thrust into inner turmoil. Maybe if I approach him, he will force me to do teshuvah and observe all the mitzvot. Until today, I have not found the courage to meet him and thank him for saving my mother’s life.”
I looked the man squarely in the eye and stated, “It is not I who healed your mother, but Hashem. Her recovery came in the merit of accepting the mitzvot of Shabbat and kashrut upon herself. But I have a question: How do you know when I am in town?”
“Honored Rav, my house is not far from here. Whenever the Rav comes, there is a long line of people snaking its way out of the Beit Hakeneset. When I see it, I ask, “Is it some holiday today? Why are so many people waiting outside?” They reply that Rav Pinto has come to visit the community and is receiving people.”
“Hashem has arranged a private audience for you with me now. What do you intend to do with this opportunity?”
The man lowered his head and said sheepishly, “I would like to start wearing tefillin every day and pray with a minyan.”
I asked my brother, Rabbi Yaakov Pinto, shlita, to accompany this man and support him on his long journey home.
When one begins tasting the sweetness of mitzvot, his soul pines for its Creator. When he merits utilizing these moments of awareness, he merits siyata di’Shemaya and tremendous spiritual elevation.
