Great To Have You Home | Rabbi Shlomo Landau

[music] >> For one young couple that grew up in Bnei Brak, their hope, [music] their dream had always been to find an apartment in Bnei Brak and to continue living there where they'd lived their entire [music] lives. When it came time to purchase an apartment, everything was so expensive. Cost prohibitive. They just couldn't figure out an apartment that could work for them. In conversation with a realtor, the realtor suggested an apartment on Rechov Jabotinsky, which is literally at the mouth of Gush Dan. It's not in Bnei Brak itself. It's kind of on the outskirts, but hey, at least it's close. So they went to check it out. The apartment itself was nice. Three bedrooms, nice dining room, living room, a decent kitchen. Excellent. The problem was that the front window off the dining room opened onto Rechov Jabotinsky where there was non-stop traffic 24/7. And they weren't sure if they wanted that to be the backdrop of their family Shabbos dinner. In the end, they decided to go for it. And the apartment was decorated beautifully and it was tasteful. And they even put up a thick purple curtain with flowers on it that they would close each week to block out the traffic on Shabbos and enjoy Shabbos, a little cocoon of holiness in a world gone crazy. And thus, that's how they [music] lived their lives. The husband would come home from shul, they'd close the curtains, the kids would sit around the table. And this particular family was so gifted. The children, the husband, they would sing zemiros that were otherworldly. One week, in the middle of the Shabbos dinner, they're in the middle of singing zemiros, all of a sudden, the air conditioning goes on the fritz and then it blows [music] a fuse and it's absolute dark besides for the Shabbos candles. It started getting hot so they opened up the purple curtain >> [music] >> and now they were exposed to Rechov Jabotinsky. The wife looked at her husband, she looked at her children, and she says, "Keep singing. Keep singing. Let's bring Shabbos out there." And they did. And they sang with renewed vigor and with intensity that perhaps they'd never sang with before. Just a few minutes later, there's a knocking at the front door. Standing at the front door is a young man and [music] somewhat embarrassed, he says, "I heard the singing from downstairs. Is it okay if I join you?" And they said, "Sure." He sits down at the table. They start singing songs, zemiros, and the fellow starts singing with them. And every once in a while they notice that he's dabbing at the corner of his eye. He's crying. They don't know what's happening. At the end of the meal he turns to them and he says to them, "I need to tell you a little bit about myself. Up to 10 years ago I kept Shabbos. I was part of a beautiful Shabbos observing family and then stuff happened. I haven't been at a Shabbos table in 10 years. I was standing downstairs waiting for a taxi and all of a sudden I heard this beautiful singing and it brought me back to a period of my life that I was longing for. It was almost like magnetically I was drawn. I had to be part of it and here I am singing with you. Thank you so much for restoring in me a part of myself that I wasn't even sure existed." And eventually they said good Shabbos to him and he walked off into the night. A few weeks later there was a knocking at their door and standing at the door is a elderly [music] gentleman and he says, "Can I come in?" And they say, "Sure." He says, "You know, a few weeks ago a young man came here and he sang zemiros with you?" "Yeah, who are you?" He says, "Well, that was my son. We hadn't seen our son for 10 years." But the next erev Shabbos, next Friday, there was a knocking at their door and he was there. He says, "I'm back. I want to [music] be part of Shabbos. Thank you for bringing our son back to us." You know, on some level a whole week we're so busy living that sometimes we forget about who we are. We forget about our relationship with Hakadosh Baruchu. Maybe not intentionally, it's just stuff. But Shabbos, Shabbos, that's the day of the week that we need to [music] remember who we are, who we really are. You can't imagine Hakadosh Baruchu is waiting. He's waiting for us to come home at Shabbos. Shabbos is coming and if we keep Shabbos properly and we appreciate it, Hakadosh Baruchu says, "Ah, my child, so great to have you back home." >> [music] [music]