Rabbi R. is a European citizen who has lived in America with his family for many years. Like many people, he waited for years to receive American citizenship, a process that involves extensive, exhausting bureaucracy, and when he was finally able to clear all the criteria and received an interview at the immigration offices, he was thrilled.
On the day of the interview, he arose early, recited Birchos Hashachar bechavrusa, as he usually did, davened Shacharis and set out on his way to the offices in New York.
By ten in the morning, a short time before the scheduled interview, he was parking his car near the office. Before he went inside, he checked again to make sure that he had all the documents he needed. The forms were all organized, as were the photos. But one thing was missing... “Where is the passport???”
To his horror, his European passport had been left at home, and without it, he could not do the interview.
After he calmed down from his initial shock, he began to consider his options. Driving home and coming back was out of the question. He knew that the appointment was a one-time thing, and whoever came late lost the appointment. He knew that based on the traffic situation right now, there was no way for him to drive home and back before the office closed.
In despair, he decided to go to the interview without the passport. He figured it was better to do that than to miss the appointment entirely...
Rabbi R. went up to the office and waited for his turn. Meanwhile, it became necessary for him to make an Asher Yatzar, and before he made the brachah, he looked around him, as was his practice, in the hope of finding someone to answer amen to his brachah. The waiting room was filled with people of all nationalities, but none of them appeared to be Jewish. As such, he sufficed with saying the brachah aloud, with kavanah.
He finished the brachah, especially concentrating on the words “umafli la’asos,” and he was surprised to hear someone behind him say “amen,” fluently. He turned around and discovered a frum Yid. It turned out that he had also been preparing to recite Asher Yatzar at that moment. “Can you answer amen to my brachah?” the man asked. Rabbi R. was happy to. The man made the brachah and Rabbi R. answered amen to it.
“What are you doing here?” the man asked in a friendly tone, and Rabbi R. replied tersely, with a grimace: “I came here for an interview that I’ve been waiting a very long time for, and I was horrified to discover that I don’t have my passport with me...”
“And what do you plan to do?” the man cut him off.
“Because I have no other choice, I’ll go into the interview without the passport, and Hashem will help,” Rabbi R. replied, his eyes an expression of hope and anxiety at the same time.
“Nice to meet you, Jacob Stein, attorney specializing in immigration,” the man introduced himself. Then he continued in a firm tone: “I am warning you not to dare go into the interview without the passport, because if you do that, your request will be denied on the spot and there’s no knowing when you will be able to apply again!”
“There are three hours left until the office closes,” the man continued and suggested, “I’m supposed to be here until the end of the day. If you are able to get a courier to bring you the passport, I’ll do everything I can to make sure that you leave here today with the approval you are waiting for.”
Rabbi R., overcome with emotion, got right to work. He called a courier service, and received a message from his house a few minutes later that a courier had departed with the passport. Two hours later, he was holding the passport, and from that point on the, the process was short. As the lawyer had promised, he accompanied Rabbi R. through the process, and with siyata diShmaya, due to his many connections, the application was approved on the spot.
Today Rabbi R. is an American citizen, but most of all, he is an ardent “tzaddik shomer emunim,” especially since he merited, like so many others, to experience an open miracle in the merit of answering amen.
