Reb Chaim Shimon Esterzohn zt'l was a mashpiah for the bachurim of the Biyala chassidus, and he used to run the summer camp. Thirty-five years ago, the camp was in Zichron Yaakov, which is near Chaifa. In those days, Zichron Yaakov wasn't as religious as it is today. There was no mikvah nearby. Every morning and on every erev Shabbos the boys traveled in a van to go to the mikvah.
One Friday afternoon, the van arrived to take the bachurim to the mikvah. Reb Chaim Shimon Esterzohn was speaking with a bachur at that time, and the conversation was going well. This bachur was introverted, he kept everything inside, but this time, he opened up to Reb Chaim Shimon. Reb Chaim Shimon Esterzohn had tried several times to make a connection with this bachur, and now his efforts finally paid off. Reb Chaim Shimon told the van driver to take the bachurim to the mikvah without him. He remained behind to speak to this bachur. He understood that this conversation could have a significant impact on the boy and could save him and his future generations; therefore, he didn’t want the conversation to be stopped in the middle.
They spoke for another two hours, and it was already an hour before Shabbos when their conversation ended. Reb Chaim Shimon then sought a way to go to the mikvah. The bulletin board had a listing of several numbers for taxis. He called them, but they all told him that it was late, close to Shabbos, and they weren't working. At one of the numbers that he called the wife answered the phone. She gave the phone to her husband, who said, "Where are you? I will pick you up right away." He took him to the mikvah (which was just a well or a stream of water).
As they rode to the mikvah, the driver said, "Do you know why I am taking you, so close to Shabbos?" Reb Chaim Shimon said, "I assume that it is because you need the parnassah." The driver said, "Why should I work for parnassah so close to Shabbos? I will tell you the reason. There is only one bus from Yerushalayim to Zichron Yaakov on Friday. It leaves at twelve, noon, and the ride is three hours. I was waiting for the bus at the bus stop together with my five-year-old son. When the bus arrived, the bus driver said there was only room for one person. I took my son and boldly climbed up the stairs of the bus. The bus driver shouted at me, 'Either you or your son. There isn't room for both of you.' I said, 'How can one of us remain here the entire Shabbos?' I moved further into the bus, but the bus driver shouted that he wouldn't drive, and he forced us to get off the bus. I was wondering where I would stay for Shabbos. I already imagined myself sleeping on a bench in Zichron Moshe Shtibalach. And then, my wife woke me up and told me that someone needed a ride. I realized that it was all just a dream. I wasn't in Yerushalayim. I was in my home, in Zichron Yaakov. But after experiencing what it means to need a ride and not to have one, I felt that I had to help you this time, and that is why I accepted to take you to where you want to go."
Reb Chaim Shimon learned from this story how Hashem leads the world with hashgachah pratis. Hashem arranged that someone should sleep very deeply and dream about the hardship of not having a ride on erev Shabbos so that he would have a ride to the mikvah. This is the way Hashem leads the world, with marvelous and unfathomable hashgachah pratis.
Reb Yosef Liberman zt'l, author of Mishnas Yosef, talks about how he was saved from the Nazis during the Holocaust. In the year 5699, he was nine years old, living in Pressburg, Hungary. His father was a prosperous wine merchant, and he had parnassah in abundance. One day, nine-year-old Yosef was walking down one of the streets in Pressburg, and a young goy came by and smacked him with all his strength on his face. Yosef began to cry. He was hit in public for absolutely no reason, and it came from a low-class gentile. He was humiliated. When his father heard about it, he said, "If a child can smack someone for no reason, this is a sign that antisemitism has taken root in our country. Our place isn't here, anymore. We will go to Eretz Yisrael."
The family asked, "What are you saying? There is no food in Eretz Yisrael. How can we move there? Here, we have parnassah." But the father’s decision was final. He sold his property and moved with his family to Eretz Yisrael.
A smack from a goy saved an entire family. A patch from Hashem will certainly bring salvation.
The following story was heard from Reb Dinner Shlita, Rav of beis haknesses Divrei Shir, Bnei Brak:
Reb Yitzchak Hirsh zt'l, a member of his kehillah, was niftar a couple of months ago when he was 102 years old. Reb Yitzchak came to Eretz Yisrael from Germany when he was sixteen. It was in the year 5698. He chose to move to Eretz Yisrael at that time because antisemitism was increasing, and there were harsh decrees established against the Jewish community. One of the gezeiros was against shechitah. It became forbidden to shecht meat in Germany. Reb Yitzchak's family wanted meat for Shabbos and yom tov, etc., so they would defy the law and they shechted in concealment. Someone revealed this to the German authorities, and they were summoned to court. The court ruled that they must leave Germany.
In retrospect, we know that this episode saved their lives. Initially, they viewed their banishment from Germany as a very heavy blow. They had to leave their community, their family, and their friends and move to Eretz Yisrael without any money. But this ended up saving their lives. They came to Eretz Yisrael before the gates were closed.
Another lesson from this story is as Chazal say, ומפסיד לי שומע אין, Hashem says, "No one listened to Me and lost." They were moser nefesh to honor Shabbos and Yom tov and to eat kosher meat, and they didn't lose out from it.
