Among all the candidates and those who sat for the entrance exam, only the most outstanding—the shpitz, as they are called—would be admitted. While his son was indeed among the finest—diligent, sincere, and of excellent character—his nature was one of humility. He recoiled from publicity and self-promotion, choosing instead to walk modestly and quietly in his avodas Hashem, climbing steadily in Torah and good middos without fanfare or flair.
As the Gemara says (Sanhedrin 88b): “They sent [a query] from there: Who is considered a member [lit. son] of the World to Come? One who is humble and lowly of spirit, who enters and exits unobtrusively, and studies Torah constantly, yet takes no credit for himself.”
It was precisely this type of boy—modest, unassuming—that the father feared might be overlooked, despite his son being among the best.
When he consulted a friend about the situation, the friend suggested possibly using personal connections, known as protekzia, to gain favor with the administration of the yeshivah, as such tactics occasionally bear fruit. But the father, being a man of integrity and straightforwardness, would hear none of it. He had never involved himself in such strategies and did not even know how one would go about such things.
After much thought and internal struggle, and recognizing that he had no practical means of advancing his son’s cause, he came to understand that the best—and perhaps only—path available was to present his plea directly to the King of Kings, the One who forms and fashions all things, and who alone determines the path of every young man entering a yeshivah.
As the pasuk in our Haftarah states: In my distress I called upon Hashem; to my God I called out. The power of Klal Yisrael lies in their mouths alone, as the Yalkut (Yeshayahu remez 952) says: “Just as a worm strikes the mighty cedars only with its mouth, so too Klal Yisrael have no power other than prayer, as it states (Shemos 14:10), וַיִּירְאוּ מְאֹד וַיִּצְעֲקוּ בְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל אֶל ה’ - They were very afraid, and Bnei Yisrael cried out to Hashem.”
And so, the man approached his tefillah with reverence and awe, with a heart full of longing. At the conclusion of Shemoneh Esrei, as he stood in the prayer of Elokai Netzor, still in the presence of the King before taking the backward steps of Oseh Shalom, he poured out his soul before his Creator.
In his pure tefillah, he spoke from the depths of his heart, using his own words—simple and heartfelt—arising directly from heart to lips. With complete sincerity, he offered the following prayer:
“Ribbono Shel Olam, according to the inquiries my wife and I have made to the best of our ability and understanding, it appears to us that this yeshivah is indeed well-suited and fitting for our dear son, whose heart desires and yearns to grow in Torah and fear of Heaven in a path of uprightness.
“But I and my wife are only one side of the partnership—just a small part in the great mission of placing this child in the right yeshivah. As Chazal state (Niddah 31a), ‘There are three partners in a person: the Ribbono Shel Olam, the father, and the mother.’ From this we learn (Kiddushin 30b) that the Torah equates honoring father and mother to honoring Hashem, and fearing them to fearing Hashem, for all three are partners in the child’s creation.
“Therefore,” he continued, “You, our Father in Heaven, are the third and most faithful partner in raising and nurturing this beloved child. Please, Merciful One, in Your abundant compassion, involve Yourself as our partner in arranging our son’s placement in a way that is best suited to him and his soul. You are Omnipotent, and nothing stands in Your way—not even the lack of connections. Thus, we, Your faithful partners, turn to You in this prayer to seek counsel and assistance in securing his success.
“And so,” the man concluded his brief tefillah, “if indeed it is right and proper before You that this yeshivah is suitable for our son, please use Your great power to bring about his acceptance. But if he is not accepted, I will understand this as a sign from You—that, in Your exalted wisdom, this yeshivah is not the right place for him. We will then look elsewhere for a place that is better suited to his character and spiritual needs.”
That very day, the father witnessed a wondrous salvation, as the Midrash says (Devarim Rabbah 2:17): “There is prayer that is answered in a single day. From whom do we learn this? From Eliyahu, as it says (Melachim I 18:36), וַיִּגַּשׁ אֵלִיָּהוּ הַנָּבִיא וַיֹּאמַר... הַיּוֹם יִוָּדַע כִּי אַתָּה אֱלֹקִים בְּיִשְׂרָאֵל וַאֲנִי עַ בְ דֶּ ךָ - And Eliyahu the prophet came near and said... Today it will be known that You are God in Yisrael.”
That same day, he received an urgent phone call from the office of that prestigious yeshivah to which he had submitted an application. The secretary asked him to send his son to the yeshivah that very afternoon for an entrance examination before the heads of the yeshivah. It had so happened—though of course, not by chance—that a single spot had just opened up that day.
At the appointed hour, the boy arrived at the yeshivah, full of emotion—joy mixed with nervous anticipation. He sat in the waiting room with dozens of other eager applicants, each being summoned one by one into the room of the rosh yeshivah, where the mashgiach and a rotating rebbi would conduct a rigorous oral examination. Presiding over the session was the rosh yeshivah himself, in all his dignity.
When the turn came for this particular boy—the beloved son upon whom his parents had poured such heartfelt tears—to enter the room, he rose with trepidation and reverence. He stepped forward, knowing this exam could shape the direction of his future—his growth, his spiritual environment, perhaps even his entire destiny in this world and the next.
As he crossed the threshold, the rebbi who was sitting there at that moment happened—though of course, not by chance—to recognize him immediately. With a smile and an outstretched hand, he greeted him warmly: “Shalom aleichem.” It turned out that this rebbi had once been the boy’s melamed in an upper grade of his elementary school years earlier.
As he greeted him, the rebbi turned to the rosh yeshivah and remarked meaningfully, “I must say—I know this boy personally from his years in my class. He was one of my finest students. Even though he avoided the spotlight and shunned the ‘shpitz,’ he was truly one of the best of the best!”
It goes without saying that, after such an introduction, the entire examination took on a different tone. The boy answered all questions pleasantly and confidently, doing his utmost to succeed in this crucial test.
That very evening, a call came from the yeshivah’s office with the positive answer: he had been accepted as a full student into the holy institution. There he grew and succeeded with Divine assistance, yielding fruits of excellence and honor.
Some time later, when the father visited the yeshivah and stopped in to speak with the staff, the rosh yeshivah told him something remarkable: “In the past twenty years, I cannot recall another case where a boy was accepted so quickly. Our usual procedure involves deep investigations after the entrance exams, reviewing the boy’s character and background in detail, as is standard in the yeshivah world. But in this case, there was extraordinary siyatta diShmaya: his former rebbi just ‘happened’ to be present and knew him so well, taking full responsibility for him—and so, the boy was accepted that very same day.”
All of this shows us the extraordinary power of tefillah—how far it can reach—when a Jew pours out his heart with simplicity and sincerity, in his own words, before the King who hears every prayer. There are tefillos that are answered in a single day—and even on that very day!
And indeed, in this story this pasuk was fulfilled: “In my distress I called upon Hashem; to my God I called out. From His Sanctuary He heard my voice, and my cry came into His ears.”
