“It happened at the end of two years [to the day]” (41:1)
I just got back from a speaking trip to Denver. What a beautiful community! The Yeshiva there is like finding a glorious inn in the middle of a desert.
My journey there was somewhat interesting, to put it mildly. We made landfall in the US at Minneapolis. I had two hours and twenty minutes to clear immigration before my onward flight to Denver, and I thought that would be more than enough... The immigration officer happened to be a “rookie.” This was clear because he constantly referred to another officer, who stood behind him with his arms folded. I stood in the line for an hour and three quarters and there were still plenty of people in front of me. I wasn’t going to make the flight.
I started asking people if I could go ahead of them, and kindly they let me move up, until I met someone who refused. “I have a flight to catch,” I said. “I have a business meeting,” was his reply. Could it have had something to do with the fact that I was wearing a black hat and had a beard?
I started to feel a small surge of panic in my stomach, and then the other four lines that had been taking only US passports opened up and we started to move. I ran to the scanners and put all my stuff in trays. At the other side, I put everything back and made my way to the gate. I arrived there with exactly three minutes to spare. Hashem saves you in the blink of an eye!
I reached into my pocket to pull out my phone to show the lady my boarding pass. It wasn’t there. I was sure I had put it in my inside jacket pocket. Maybe I put it in my coat? Maybe in my carry-on? It was then that I realized it was gone. I searched through everything again, and then rechecked a third time. It wasn’t there.
“Sir. I’m sorry. We have to close the flight. Are you going to board?” So, there I was, faced with either missing the flight or permanently losing my phone. I chose to miss the flight. All I had in my pockets were my credit cards and the phone number of Rabbi Ahron Wasserman of Yeshivas Toras Chaim, but with no phone to call him on. As powerful as today’s phones are, to that same degree do they leave you powerless when you lose them.
“I must have left it at the scanner,” I thought to myself. As I walked out of the international area, a small passenger cart slowed down. I asked the driver, who looked to me like an Arab, if he could give me a ride back to International. “Sure thing,” he smiled. “Put your cabin bag on the back of the cart.”
And we zoomed off to International. Everyone there was very helpful. We searched through all the trays that had gone through the scanner. Nothing. It looked like someone had taken it.
“Maybe try round the corner at Central?”
I walked over to Central. “I’m sorry sir. Maybe if you come back in a couple of days to the lost and found...”
“A couple of days?! I have to deliver a lecture in Denver tomorrow.” I walked back to International, very dejected. And then I realized. “This is a nisayon; I was being sent a test sent from Hashem! Let’s see how much I really trust Hashem!”
One of the most difficult things about a test is to recognize that it’s a test. It’s all too easy to get carried away in the moment by worry and stress. We have to stop. Think. What’s going on here? Everything is from Hashem. If my phone has been stolen, then that’s exactly what was supposed to happen.
As I rounded the corner, one of the guys working the scanner called to me, “Sir, is this your phone?” They found it!
And then I realized that I had left my carry-on bag on the back of the cart that had given me a ride back to International, and it was now located on the other side of the airport.
That wasn’t such a problem. I got another driver to walkie-talkie his buddy, and the case was back with me in a few minutes.
I caught the next flight for Denver, a little more worn, but with a big, new insight into what a test from Hsashem is.
“It happened at the end of two years [to the day]”
Because Yosef placed his trust in Chamberlain instead of Hashem, Yosef’s prison sentence was increased by two years. Few things can be as claustrophobic as being incarcerated in jail. It’s only human nature to want to get out of prison, to breathe the air of freedom, but each of us, on our own level, must rise to the occasion when we meet the inevitable trials and tribulations of our lives, whether they be as large as being locked up or whether it be the loss of a phone.
Based on Rabbi Shlomo Wolbe
