One Small Deed That Brought a Jewish Girl Back Home

One of Jerusalem’s experienced fundraisers had finally reached a turning point. After years of flying abroad again and again to raise funds, the trips were wearing him down.

For those unfamiliar with this kind of work, it’s not glamorous. It’s exhausting. Your feet are sore from all the walking. Your hands are full of requests, but your pockets feel empty. And just when you think you're done, you need to rush to the next house, the next business, the next shul always hoping to get there at just the right moment for "Vayevarech David" during davening (prayer). The pressure, the timing, and the emotional toll are hard to describe.

So this clever and kind-hearted man came up with an idea: instead of chasing after each donor individually, he’d find them all gathered in one place like one person with one heart. And where could he find such a group? Switzerland, of course. During the summer vacation months of July and August, many wealthy Jewish families vacation there.

He rented a modest room in a decent hotel, located the visitors’ center, and flew out to the quiet, scenic resort town.

One night, after returning from a successful round of fundraising meetings, he came back to the hotel ready to collapse into bed. But as he walked through the hotel lobby, he noticed something unusual. A fully observant Jewish family, husband, wife, and several small children was sitting quietly on the sofas. The kids looked half-asleep. Something didn’t feel right.

As a fellow Jew, a fellow Yerushalmi (Jerusalemite), and a fellow member of the frum (observant) community, he walked over to speak with them.

“Where are you from?” he asked gently.

“Sorotzkin,” they replied naming a well-known street in Jerusalem.

His heart warmed. What a surprise! Fellow Jerusalemites all the way out here!

As the conversation continued, he asked why they were sitting there in the middle of the night instead of resting in a room.

They explained simply: their flight back to Eretz Yisrael (the Land of Israel) was early in the morning, and for just a few more hours they didn’t think it was worth paying for another night. “We’ll just sleep here,” they said. “The couches are pretty comfortable.”

“No way,” he said without hesitation. “Take my room key. I’m just one person. You’re a whole family. Put down blankets, stretch out, at least the kids will sleep properly. I’ll manage.”

They tried to refuse. They didn’t want to take away his room.

But he wouldn’t give up. He insisted, urged them, almost begged. Finally, it was the children rubbing their tired eyes and looking hopefully at their mother, who gave in.

The family accepted the key. They exchanged phone numbers as a thank you, and the fundraiser returned to the nearby shul and found a bench to sleep on.

Half a year later, maybe a little more, the fundraiser’s phone rang. It was the father from that night in Switzerland.

“Mazal tov! Our oldest daughter just got engaged, baruch Hashem. And you’re invited!”

“Wow, beautiful news,” he responded warmly. “May you merit to build a bayit ne’eman b’Yisrael (a faithful Jewish home)! I’ll try my best to come, b’ezrat Hashem.”

“No,” the father replied. “You must come. You’re the main mechutan (father of the groom's or bride's family)!”

At the vort (engagement party), the father pulled him aside to share what really happened that night in Switzerland.

“Do you remember when we met in the hotel lobby?”

The fundraiser nodded politely.

“We were there under very difficult circumstances,” the father said quietly. “Our oldest daughter, a wonderful girl, had drifted away from the path. She decided she wanted to marry a non-Jew, chas v’shalom (Heaven forbid). We were heartbroken. We made this trip as a last-ditch effort to reach her, to speak to her soul.

“She agreed to meet us, to listen, but nothing we said made a difference. She saw no problem with her choice.”

And then the father paused.

“Until you walked in.”

The fundraiser was stunned.

“Maybe you didn’t notice,” the father continued, “but our daughter stood on the side that whole time and watched you. She saw how you insisted against all resistance to give up your comfort, your sleep, your room, all for a family of strangers, simply because you and they are Jewish. Because kindness and Torah values are part of who you are.”

“She came upstairs with us and broke down sobbing. Pure tears. Soulful tears. She cried and cried all night long. ‘I want to be Jewish,’ she said. ‘I want to stay Jewish.’ And the next day, she got on the flight with us back to Eretz Yisrael.”

“Today, she’s engaged to a wonderful yeshiva bochur (Torah student). Mazal tov, mechutan!”

Sometimes, one simple act of kindness carries more power than all the speeches in the world.

A single moment of selflessness can bring a soul back home.