Last Thursday I went to pick up my son, Samuel from school. He had said to me, “Dad, you might have to wait a little for me, as we’re giving out food to people at the school.”

I didn’t know what to expect. I assumed this was for poor people. It is great that the school is involving children in volunteering activities and connecting them with a contribution paradigm. This is how contributing adults come about, and I am proud to have my son be a member of such an institution.

I thought I might find a long row of tables with serving utensils and giant pots filled with food and a long line of people waiting to get dinner. It seems odd, though, because I do not think that there are enough people in Jerusalem to warrant such measures, so I was quite curious.

I arrived at the school at around 8pm. No one was around – my son included. There were sounds of activity coming from the upper floors, so I followed them two flights up.

In the corridor, I saw some 30 odd boxes (they looked like standard boxes used to deliver vegetables to stores, which are often discarded after delivery). Young men and women were walking around between the boxes. It seemed like there was no coordination between them, but as I continued to watch, things became more apparent. It looked like each box was being filled with basic products, almost like a regular shopping trip: There was flour, sugar, a soft drink, bread, preserves and even some junk food.

I saw Samuel amongst the kids, he was busy doing his part. “Hi Dad” he smiled. That was all he said to acknowledge my presence, and he went
back about his business.

The young people I saw were regular kids, dressed and carrying on as you would expect. There was, however, something different about this situation. I think it was their energy.

At some point, one of the kids, I later found out his name was Ori, called out in a very quiet, calm tone of voice: “OK, let’s take the boxes downstairs, people are waiting for them and we don’t want to keep them waiting.”

Everyone picked some boxes and carried them downstairs. Even though there were not many – the sight was quite impressive.

I now saw more kids coming into the corridor downstairs, all very much with the same appearance.

Ori spoke about the mission about to take place: “Thank you all for your participation in this important project.” he said. “This started off when two boys decided to support one family. After a while they added another family to their efforts. Time went by, word got around and we now support 50 families on a weekly basis. Today there are new volunteers with us – so I will reiterate the important rules for this campaign.”

The energy now was solemn, serious. You could feel it flow around the corridor.

“We place these boxes on people’s door steps, knock on the door and disappear. Stay close to be sure someone opens the door. Be sure that the families don’t see you placing the groceries at their doorstep. This will shame them, which is not our intention. What we are doing is called ‘giving charity in secret,’ and no one will ever know what you have done. If you happen to know any of the children in the families, this will not be mentioned under any circumstances.”

He paused briefly and then added: “This is a sacred time. You can ask for people who are ill, remember people that have passed on.”

There was a silence for a minute or two. Then someone said: “For the healing of my brother” and he recited his name and mother’s name. I felt goose bumps on my arms and I teared up a bit. Luckily I was in the shadows.

“To the memory of my mother” said another voice quietly. Then another, and another. Some mentioned family members, others mentioned friends. The energies I had noticed became spiritual.

Ori waited another moment or two, making sure the children were done. Then he said, “It’s time. Let us go.”

He handed out lists that were prepared ahead of time. Samuel got three boxes and Ori added, “The family at this address has children. Be sure to add the workbooks, crayons and Chanukia to their box.”

We placed the boxes in the car and went on our delivery, Samuel driving and me guiding him by GPS. When we arrived at the location for the first delivery, I saw how Samuel placed the box, with awe and reverence, ensuring no one saw him, avoiding shame to the recipient family. He delivered the first box, and then the other two.

We were done. Driving home quietly, each of us wrapped in his own thoughts. I was grateful for this opportunity. Then Samuel turned to me and said quietly, “Thanks, Dad. Thank you for your support tonight.”

I wept.