More Than Money: What One Rabbi Longed to Receive

When Rabbi Yehuda Tzadaka, of blessed memory, traveled overseas to raise funds for the beloved Porat Yosef Yeshiva in Jerusalem, he wasn’t just thinking about buildings and budgets. He was thinking about souls.

At one of the synagogues he visited, he was asked to give a speech. The room was filled with generous, warmhearted people—but Rabbi Tzadaka saw something deeper. He noticed that many in the crowd had grown distant from observing Shabbat, eating kosher, or living with family purity. And it pained him.

With a heart full of love, he stood up and said something the crowd didn’t expect.

"I envy you," he began, surprising them. "Because you have the chance to support Torah, to be part of something eternal."
"But," he continued, his voice trembling, "my heart weeps for you. You have warm hearts—but are stumbling in painful mistakes. Desecrating Shabbat... eating non-kosher food... neglecting the holy laws of family purity… Is there any pain like this?"

Then came the words that no one forgot:

"Please, my dear brothers, don’t give me money. Give me Shabbat. Give me kosher. Give me family purity."

The room went silent. Then people began to cry. Not from guilt, but from something deeper—recognition. His words weren’t angry. They were filled with a father’s pain and a teacher’s hope.

When he finished, people surrounded him—not with envelopes of cash, but with questions from the heart: How can we return? Where do we start?

This wasn’t just a fundraising trip. It was a moment of truth, where one rabbi reminded us what matters most.