Posted on 05/08/25
Here’s a remarkable story I heard from Rabbi Shlomo Landau—one that unfolded just before Pesach.
Rabbi Yehuda Freilich of Beit Shemesh was in Tel Aviv for work and planned to return home at day’s end. But just as he was leaving, he received a message: one last meeting—in Yerushalayim.
He agreed and headed to the train station, suddenly realizing he hadn’t eaten all day. Starving, he found a small mehadrin falafel shop, asked them to pack it up, washed, and boarded the train, planning to eat during the ride.
The train, however, was packed.
Eventually, he found a small open corner and, though he normally avoids eating in public, hunger won out. Sitting down, he unwrapped his falafel. Across from him sat two men—an older man in his 60s and a younger man in his 30s. The younger one glanced at him with what felt like disapproval, but Rabbi Freilich ignored it.
A minute later, the older man smiled warmly and said, “Beteavon—bon appétit.”
Rabbi Freilich smiled back. “Toda! If I had realized such a sweet guy was sitting across from me, I would’ve bought two falafels—one for me and one for you.”
The older man looked surprised. “B’emet?” he said, touched.
Rabbi Freilich added, “The toppings came in a separate little ziplock—pickles, peppers, all the extras. Here, take them. We’ll share the meal. I’m good with the falafel alone.”
The man became misty-eyed. “That’s so kind of you. Thank you.”
As the train rolled on, they chatted warmly—like old friends. Then, just before arriving in Yerushalayim, the younger man leaned over.
“You need to know something,” the man said quietly. “This train is full of secular Jews—we’re all going to Yerushalayim to protest against the religious. Me and my father—we were, too. But we’ve never spoken to a chareidi Jew before. After talking to you… we’re not protesting. We’re going home.”
We often underestimate the power of a simple smile, a kind word, or an unguarded moment of connection. But when we interact with respect and warmth, without judgment, it can be life changing.