A Jew is never completely lost from his people. A true
unbelievable stor...
>
>
>
> ?
>
> My Father and the Priest
> by Chana Weisberg
> A Jew is never completely lost from his people. A true unbelievable story.
>
> Almost 30 years ago, my father, Rabbi Dovid Schochet was asked to lecture
> to a group of Jewish and non-Jewish participants in the neighboring city
> of Buffalo. He decided to focus his lecture on the theme of charity, due
> to its universal application to both Jews and gentiles.
> My father began with the following story.
> A wealthy individual who never contributed to charity lived during the
> time of the Tosfos Yom Tov, a great Jewish sage. After this miser died,
> the Chevra Kaddisha (the society responsible for the burial and performing
> the rites on the body) felt that he was unworthy of being interned next to
> any upright and respectable individual and buried him, instead, in the
> area of the cemetery called hekdesh, reserved for society's outcasts and
> destitute.
> A few days after the funeral, a tumult developed in Krakow. The butcher
> and baker, two prominent members of the community, who had hitherto been
> extremely charitable, suddenly stopped distributing their funds. The poor
> people, who had relied on the benevolent pair for their sustenance, now
> were in a state of uproar. Emotions ran so deep that the matter was
> finally brought before the Tosfos Yom Tov.
> He asked the two why they had so abruptly terminated their worthy acts.
> They replied: "In the past this 'miser' would continuously supply us with
> funds for charity. He strongly warned us, however, not to disclose our
> source, since he wanted the great merit of performing the mitzvah in a
> hidden manner. Now that he is dead, unfortunately, we are no longer able
> to continue."
> Awed by the unassuming 'miser's' behavior, the Tosfos Yom Tov requested
> that he be buried next to this humble individual, even though this meant
> being interred in a disreputable section of the cemetery.
> As my father concluded his lecture, a participant from the audience, who
> happened to be a priest, approached him and requested that he repeat the
> story. My father suggested they meet the following day. Thinking that the
> matter would be forgotten, my father was surprised when, at the appointed
> hour, the priest actually arrived at my father's hotel.
> The priest, once again, pleaded with my father to repeat the story. My
> father obliged, but was astounded when, after concluding the story a
> second time, the priest seemed terribly distraught and begged him to
> repeat it, yet again.
> At this point, the priest was nervously pacing back and forth across the
> room. Finally, he divulged the reason for his agitation. He turned to my
> father and confessed, "Rabbi Schochet, that charitable man in the story
> was my ancestor."
> Skeptically, my father calmed the young man saying that there was
> absolutely no connection between him and the story, which took place
> hundreds of years ago. "Furthermore," he told him, "you are a gentile,
> while this man was Jewish."
> The priest looked intently at my father and whispered, "Rabbi, now I have
> a story to tell you!"
> He began by describing his background. He had grown up in the state of
> Tennessee. His father was a Major in the U.S. army during the Second World
> War. Overseas, in Europe, his father had met a Jewish girl and fell in
> love. He brought her back home as his war bride and no one knew of her
> background. A short time after their marriage, the couple was blessed with
> a child, whom they devoutly raised in the Catholic tradition. The child
> grew up and attended a Seminary where he eventually trained to become a
> priest.
> In his early adulthood, the priest's mother died prematurely. At her death
> bed, she disclosed her secret identity to her completely baffled son.
> After reciting the Shema prayer, she confessed, "I want you to know that
> you are Jewish." She informed him of his heritage and that his ancestor
> was buried next to a great sage called the Tosfos Yom Tov. She then
> recounted, almost verbatim, the story that my father had told in his
> lecture.
> At the time, the priest imagined that his mother was delirious. Although
> he felt uneasy by his mother's parting words, it was only a temporary,
> fleeting emotion. As he got on with his life, he soon forgot the entire
> episode and lost interest in the subject.
> "Rabbi," cried the priest, in a state of complete emotional upheaval, "you
> have just repeated this story, detail for detail. You have reminded me of
> my mother's parting words, and that the story must be true. Yet what am I
> to do? I am a reputable priest with a large congregation of devoted
> followers."
> My father offered to assist him in any way. He emphasized to him, however,
> that according to Judaism, he was indeed Jewish. He encouraged him to
> explore his heritage, and put him in contact with people in his city who
> could guide him. With that, the weary, newly-found Jew departed.
> My father had no future correspondence with this man, and heard no further
> from him.
> Several years ago, on a visit to Israel, a bearded, religious Jew
> approached my father at the Western Wall, the Kotel, and wished him,
> "Shalom Aleichem."
> My father didn't recognize the individual and was completely taken aback
> when the man exclaimed, "Don't you recognize me, Rabbi Schochet? I am the
> former priest whom you met in Buffalo!" He continued, "A Jew is never
> completely lost from his people."
> PS. My father recently discovered that he is a direct descendant of the
> Tosfos Yom Tov.
> At that auspicious juncture in time, in a hotel lobby in Buffalo, N.Y. a
> descendant of the Tosfos Yom Tov met with a descendant of the miser -- and
> miraculously changed the course of destiny.
>
>