Hashgachah Pratis and the Power of Chessed
A wide tree blocked the streetlights, but a discerning eye could see the poles for the eiruv, and the string attached to them. Something did not look right. He came closer and discovered that the string was torn. The eiruv was disqualified.
“One mitzvah leads to another,” my friend enthused. “First, you did chessed with me and allowed me to drive your car, afterward you did the mitzvah of hashavas aveidah, and now we’re going to let the eiruv committee know that they need to fix the eiruv here.”
I heard the postscript to this story several days later. The owner of the car called me to express his gratitude and told me about the series of events that occurred after he got his stolen car back.
“I decided to get the police involved in order to find the thief,” the owner of the car related, “and within a few days they located him. Now I was left with the decision of whether to take him to court and cause him to be arrested. I decided to make a kiddush Hashem. I contacted the thief and told him I wanted to meet him. He agreed.
I came to the prearranged place, and before me I saw a type of ‘Og Melech Habashan.’ Tall, curly-haired, and wearing jeans, he looked like a total goy. I told him, ‘You stole my car, but I’m not going to sue you, because in your merit we discovered that the eiruv was torn and we need to fix it. In your merit Jews are keeping Shabbos.’
While I was talking, the ‘goy’ started crying. He didn’t just tear up, he was really crying, and I couldn’t understand what I’d done to him. ‘What happened?’ I asked, and he answered me in Yiddish: ‘I simply don’t believe it. That’s how good you all are?’
He told me that he was born into a chareidi home. He speaks Yiddish fluently. He knows everything. But the yetzer hara entrapped him. He was lured after bad friends and went from bad to worse. Now he looks the way he looks and hasn’t had a single good day in his life.
‘And now I see that I ran away for naught. What was I escaping?’ he asked. ‘If there are good people by us, why should I stay in this horror?’ He cried, and we exchanged phone numbers. I reminded him that it’s never too late, and he could come back to his Father in Heaven even today.
Baruch Hashem, I merited to take part in the journey of a neshamah as it returned home, and to see tangibly how Hakadosh Baruch Hu navigates circumstances so as not to reject those who are far away from Him.
