Those Schnorrers Got Lucky

By Kobi Arieli

I first saw them at the gate as we were boarding the plane. Although the hour was way early, they both were already covered in Talis and Tefillin – with one of them strictly covering his full face and throat, using his hands to show the boarding pass and then feeling his way around to the plane.

During the flight I looked at both of them – Chassidic yungeleit with curled peios looking very foreign on this flight to Amsterdam. Do they live there? Are they visiting? I wondered to myself.

I was on my way to a special event organized by Rabbi Akiva Camissar for the Israeli community in town, which I was invited to emcee.

In our conversation prior to the trip I was told Camissar and his wife arrived two months ago, beginning activities right away, and this event was meant to introduce them and their Chabad House to the local Hebrew speakers which number in the thousands.

The next few hours were an astonishing experience and lesson for me about Shlichus and Chabad. As a resident of Kfar Chabad (a village in Central Israel) and as a family member of Chabad Chassidim, I thought I knew it all. I have seen Shluchim, Chassidim and Tmimim at work.

Yet after stepping foot in the Camissar home, I understood that reading and hearing do not describe what a family on Shlichus goes through, and all that I know about Shlichus is nothing in comparison to the real thing.

From our short conversations I was privy to the labor of their beginning, the difficulty of the distance and misery of loneliness; yet his spirits were high and they were full of joy, excitement, faith and an endless drive.

After a beautiful Shabbos in their small and warm home (over 20 people attended each meal), I headed to the Tu B’Shvat Farbrengen with the goal to involve the most Israeli Jews possible. Rabbi Camissar can hardly hide his stress level, making sure each detail is in place and ready. It’s their first and introductory event in the community.

One by one, single men, women, and couples began filling up the hall. Their disconnect from yiddishkeit is at times obvious and even visible. Clearly they have not attended a Jewish oriented event or service in a while.

They came on their own. A friend brought a friend and I’m standing on the side watching as Rabbi Akiva and Taiby personally greet each one.

And then I saw the two friends from the plane.

Now they were not donning Tefillin or a Talis over their heads. They were in coats and scarfs, a briefcase and a letter in their hands. You could not mistake them: Schnorrers in the house!

Already in the lobby they were using their years of experience for a shameless fundraising round. They didn’t miss a single person. Some evil person told them about this event and they could not miss a chance. Horrified and knowing what’s at stake, I called them to the side.

What’s going on?

We’re collecting for a Kollel in Jerusalem, he answered. Can you help?

No, I answered, and you cannot continue soliciting funds here. This is a private affair. Did you ask permission to come here?

They answered, no, but we are in a hurry and you are disturbing us.

I looked at the letter they were holding, the supposed stationary of the institution their were collecting for, and let me say this: Gornished mit gornished. Nadah.

This was too much. This is too much of a delicate and important event to ruin.

Before I knew what was happening – and this is a moment I will never forget – the Shliach comes over, spreads his arms, hugs them and with a big smile calls out “Sholom aleichem! Come in, drink and eat something. Kumt arein!”

He brings them into the hall, sits them down to a meal, exchanges some words and then even gives them a few bills as a donation.

Shocked, I later asked him how hard it must’ve to be courteous to them.

“They are yidden too,” was his reply.

And there was my lesson: It does not matter if you are hosting hundreds at a Pesach Seder or two Schnorrers coming to ruin your party, a Jew is a Jew is a Jew. And there will always be a Rebbe’s Shliach welcoming them all with an open heart.

—Kobi Arieli is a satirist, columnist, journalist and a TV commentator. This article was first published in Hebrew on COL.org.il