Tzachi Avergil: "I Was Accused of 'Religious Coercion' and Boycotted for Closing My Restaurant on Shabbat"

It happened about three months ago. Residents of Kfar Saba were informed of the establishment of a kosher branch of the Landwer chain on Rapaport Street. The owner of the location is Tzachi Avergil, who bought the local Landwer Cafe and made it kosher.

"I was sure that despite the secular nature of the area – it would pass quietly," he says in an interview. "I didn't think opening a kosher restaurant would lead to opposition. It was clear to me that some people would be upset, as they were used to eating there on Shabbat. But I couldn't imagine they'd start a real fight against me."

"There was a Landwer branch here before," he explains, "but it wasn't kosher and was open on Shabbat. When I decided to buy the place about six months ago, I committed to switching the menu to kosher. I couldn't envision the level of opposition."

For Avergil, it was clear he would close the restaurant on Shabbat. "I'm a traditional person who keeps kosher, and I understood that if I can't eat at my business, then there's a problem. So I decided not to sell food I couldn't eat myself. I also wanted to observe Shabbat – both spiritually and physically. I have a family, and I don't think it's my fate not to enjoy them. Life isn't only about work," he states.

Avergil, 38, has lived in Kfar Saba for the past seven years, moving there from Rishon LeZion: "I was born into a traditional Moroccan family. We eat kosher, keep Shabbat, and observe the rituals. Tradition is very important to me."

He began in the restaurant business as a young man: "Even before army service, I started working as a waiter. Later, I became a restaurant manager, and after a few years, I decided to go independent. Over the years, I partnered in establishing several restaurants and bought a few as well. I've been in this field for many years, and thank Hashem, with success."

But one thing always bothered Avergil: "The restaurants I owned were always kosher in terms of food, but not supervised, and sometimes open on Shabbat, which really troubled me.

"About two years ago, I decided to put an end to it. I realized I was fooling myself if I couldn't eat in my restaurants, so how could I own places that weren't supervised and operated on Shabbat? I started feeling uneasy, so I decided to stop. At first, I stopped going to the restaurant on Shabbat, but then I took it a step further. At that time, I had an agreement with the marina in Herzliya and realized I wanted to make a change. I committed to living my truth and getting closer to Hashem and simply closed the restaurant. I remember right after closing, I raised my hands to the sky and asked Hashem to send me something good as a replacement."

Avergil's prayer was answered, and he found a restaurant offered for sale right below his home. All he had to do now was purchase it.

Secular Coercion

The restaurant Avergil wanted to buy was Landwer in Kfar Saba. "I decided to buy it as a franchisee of the Landwer chain and clarified to both the chain and the mall owners that I intended to close the place on Shabbat. Thankfully, they immediately agreed."

The path to establishing a kosher store was not easy, but it wasn't something to cause Avergil doubt: "In the following days, I held a meeting with the rabbinate, after which I made the restaurant kosher and removed dishes that mixed meat and dairy from the menu. In parallel, I bought new utensils and switched the menu to dairy and fish. I eliminated the meat menu, which, as a Shabbat and kosher observant place, could not have been profitable for the chain for many reasons."

And were there concerns?

"There certainly were," he responds immediately. "Firstly, converting the place to kosher was costly. To be honest, I invested a million shekels, which included the purchase along with additional costs. Moreover, there was a natural concern about losing some customers accustomed to a non-kosher branch. Understandably, closing a restaurant on Shabbat isn't simple because it's typically the most profitable day."

Even if the initial concerns weren't enough, Avergil was surprised to hear one day that a boycott was being organized against him because he 'dared' to close the shop on Shabbat. "It was an unpleasant situation," he frankly admits. "A few residents didn't like that I was closing the place on Shabbat and posted against me. They claimed I was 'religiously coercing' and made other absurd accusations. Sadly, some of the responses were supportive, calling for a boycott that started gaining traction in the local neighborhood WhatsApp groups. The posts were published in a closed Kfar Saba group with thousands of members, some of whom I know.

"However, most defended me. The majority argued that this small, extreme group shouldn't interfere in my private business and that I'm allowed to live my life according to my beliefs. It’s unfortunate they didn’t inherently understand this basic democratic statement.

"Besides, I published a response post, which incited waves of support for me and the restaurant. I wrote in the post that I don’t need help or for people to buy from me because we’re neighbors. I sell food, ambiance, and service, and every one of my restaurant doors is open to all. I added that I would host anyone beautifully and equally, regardless of their political views, religion, or skin color. I emphasized that I always welcome constructive criticism, but not illegitimate opposition to my lifestyle."

What feedback did you receive to your post?

"Responses that warmed my heart. One wrote to me, 'May Hashem bless you,' and others added, 'Be strong and courageous,' 'You did well.' Interestingly, the feedback came from both traditional and secular people. Many secular individuals approached me and said, 'Go your way, we will continue to come.’ Some said they had never been to the restaurant before, and now they come just because of this problematic demand to boycott the place. Additionally, people called me. Neighborhood residents even visited in person, shook my hand, and advised me to ignore the background noise."

Avergil emphasizes that "the vast majority of the neighborhood are wonderful people, but there was a small group of people quick to criticize, forgetting there's a person on the other side and someone’s livelihood."

Was there an impact of the boycott on the business?

"There was, but the exact opposite of what one might think," he laughs. "It turns out those messages brought me a flood of support and customers from all around. Many people still come to me because they learned I decided to observe Shabbat in my business. An elderly woman came from far away just to support me. It moved me deeply.

"Overall, people love the food, and all those observing kosher now have the chance to eat in the area. Of course, it's primarily due to divine providence, as there's no doubt that my Shabbat observance was seen from above, bringing me a good business under my home and high revenues."

And what about the supposed 'loss' from closing on Shabbat?

"I’ll surprise the readers again," he says. "Even here, heaven didn’t leave me; today – after four months since opening – I reached the same revenue cycle as the previous operator who was open on Shabbat..."

After all, more than Israel preserved the Shabbat, the Shabbat preserved Israel...