We are five bachurim from abroad, learning in yeshivah in Eretz Yisrael. When the time came for us to return home, we had to go through a long, exhausting trip to the airport and then the flight. We ordered a driver to pick us up and take us to the airport, and at that moment our journey of emunah began.
The truth is that my journey started long before that, for I have been strengthening myself in emunah for several years. The story that I want to tell you emphasizes just how much chizuk in emunah can change you and all that happens to you.
In the first stage, the driver, whom we’d ordered to pick us up at a quarter to eight, was late by three-quarters of an hour. He arrived at 8:30 and apologized a thousand times, but all his excuses combined together could not turn back the hands of the clock.
In the second stage, when we left the city, we hit traffic. There was a serious traffic jam resulting from an accident between two cars. We five bachurim sat in a never-ending snake of vehicles, knowing that every passing moment took us farther away from the chance of making our flight. I strengthened myself in emunah and told myself that Hakadosh Baruch Hu is running the world, including the highways and the planes. I repeated to myself that whatever happened would be Hashem’s will. If He willed it I would make the flight, and if He willed it, I would not make the flight. Whatever would be, I was in His Hands and I could be calm.
My friends, on the other hand, started arguing and getting annoyed. They blamed the driver and whoever had ordered him, and they were angry about the fact that we had decided to leave at such a late hour, and they made all kinds of “if” and “if only” statements, and questions and calculations that don’t get a person anywhere.
I was the only one who said, “No one is to blame. It’s all min haShamayim. Hashem does everything.” The truth is that I was not completely calm, I was feeling just a bit pressured, and that’s why I called the Hashgachah Pratis phone line from the car. I suggested to my friends that they listen in as well, but they did not listen to me.
Finally, the traffic jam cleared. We arrived at the airport literally at the last moment, just before takeoff.
Then we were stopped for security questions. Every bachur faced a security guard who had all the time in the world. But for some reason, they let me go quickly.
I ran to the check-in counter. The official checked my ticket and became angry: “What is this?! There are five places on the same name!” I explained that we were five bachurim traveling together. “And where are the other four?”
“They’re with the security people.”
Finally, my friends passed security, and they approached check-in, but the official was angry, and for some reason he only allowed me to advance. “If you’re not on the boarding bridge to the aircraft within twenty minutes, you’ll remain in Israel,” he warned me.
What was I to do now? My friends were stuck with the annoyed official at check-in, and I was here, free to go, but without them. Once again, I told myself that Hashem was in charge of everything. And then Hashem gave me the thought to run and try to catch the flight. I ran, and when I reached a checkpoint I saw there was a very long line. The twenty minutes might very possibly have ended right here.
While I was standing in line, a steward came over to me, and when he understood how pressed I was for time, he instructed them to allow me to the front of the line. Thus, I passed the checkpoint within two minutes.
I ran to border control, where you scan your passport and then go through the automatic gate. I placed my passport on the scanner, but the gate would not open. I placed it there again, and no response. This happened perhaps seven times. I went over to the official who was sitting there, and he pointed to another gate, but this one too did not respond. I knew that if it didn’t open I would need to wait in a long line, and then I would certainly miss my flight. I turned to Hashem. “Ribbono shel Olam,” I said, “Help me so that the gate will open for me!” This was an earnest tefillah from the depths of my heart, and the metal rod turned to let me through!
