Tearjerker: "Thanks to Your Melody, a Whole Family Returned to Faith"

Early morning on a grim, wintry Wednesday. Motti Zurger, a professional driver, was making his usual daily route from Ashkelon to Lod. Nothing prepared him for the significant and special event about to unfold that morning.

"I've been driving the Ashkelon-Lod route for a long time, back when I still drove a pickup," Motti Zurger tells me while steering a bus. "My daily routine started at 5:30 AM in Ashkelon, where I picked up lab workers and drove them to Lod – their workplace. For those who don't know, it was the early days of Bluetooth. There weren't Bluetooth headsets, and when someone called me, every passenger in the pickup shared the conversation. That clear morning, my friend, who was traveling to the United States to audition as a synagogue cantor in a Jewish community, called. Without technology to enable a private conversation, the call was on speakerphone for all the passengers to hear. My friend, at that early evening hour, wanted to learn the lyrics of an old Yiddish song because the community members wanted to hear Yiddish songs. I sang him the nostalgic song 'Oyfn Pripetshik Brent a Fayerl' – 'A Fire Burns in the Kettle' – describing a warm 'cheder' with a fire burning in the hearth while the rabbi teaches children the alphabet."

The Power of a Melody

"I finished singing the song to my friend when suddenly, I noticed one of the women in the pickup sobbing. I didn’t think much of it. 'Who knows what's going on with her? What does it have to do with me?' I thought to myself. When we arrived at the destination, the woman approached me and said: 'You took me sixty years back. When you sang 'Oyfn Pripetshik Brent a Fayerl,' memories of my childhood at my mother’s house flooded back. In my mind's eye, I saw my mother standing with a headscarf, lighting Shabbat candles, and for the first time in many years, I remembered the sweet intoxicating memory of my father singing the lullaby of the teacher rehearsing the alef-bet with the children.' The woman finished her words and exited the pickup.

"Not long after, I left the Ashkelon-Lod route and completely forgot the story. But apparently, someone hadn’t forgotten. After a long period, one of the old route coordinators called me, telling me about a woman persistently seeking my number. 'You don’t give my number to any woman,' I firmly instructed him. I was clueless about who it was and had no indication of her identity. 'Even if she calls seven times a day, do not give her my number,' I emphasized to the coordinator and hung up the call."

Not many days passed, and the phone rang at the Zurger household. Fortuitously, it was Motti who answered, and a woman with a Russian accent asked: "Is this Motti Zurger?" "Yes," he replied hesitantly. "This is me, the woman from Ashkelon who traveled with you daily to Lod." 'What woman and what Ashkelon,' Motti pondered during that anonymous call. Motti continues his story: "It took me some time to realize it was the same woman who wept during the ride. 'What now?' I asked. 'I want to invite you to my son’s wedding in Kfar Chabad, and for that, I need your mailing address to send you the invitation.' I gave her my home address, and the invitation arrived. After much thought and since my wife is originally Chabad, we decided to attend the wedding.

"We arrived at the event hall in Kfar Chabad, and as soon as we entered, the groom rushed over to honor me. I gathered the courage and asked him: 'Can you tell me once and for all what's going on here? What's your story with me?' The groom took a seat to recount the entire story amid his own wedding.

This is How We Returned to Judaism

"'After that morning when you sang the Yiddish song on the phone,' the son recounted to me, 'my mother found no peace. Mixed emotions and blurred memories from her childhood surfaced. Her beloved mother kept appearing, donned in a headscarf, lighting Shabbat candles. She looked at herself and her spiritual state and decided to start lighting Shabbat candles, but not just lighting – like her grandmother – with a headscarf. When she shared her decision with my father – who was far from Torah and mitzvot – he told her it was 'either me or your nonsense,' in his words. My mother, in the storm of her emotions and the awakening she experienced recently, stood firm and said: 'My nonsense!' And so, my father left, and off he went. At that time when they parted, I returned home from military service in a combat unit and joined my mother on her old-new path. We were blessed to return to our roots, starting to live a life of Torah and commandments. Now, as you can see, I am marrying a religious woman according to the law of Moses and Israel. We invited you to the wedding so you’d know the power of a melody.' The groom concluded his touching and incredible story.

"Silence descended upon the hall as the orchestra began to play 'Oyfn Pripetshik Brent a Fayerl,'" recounts Zurger excitedly. "Eyes wet with tears, mine and the mother's, as only we understood their meaning. It was a song that brought a Jewish family back to the fold of Judaism."

Why was the woman blessed with the mitzvah of lighting Shabbat candles? What is special about this precious mitzvah? And why is a woman who is meticulous about candle lighting rewarded?