Hashem's Word, Reflected Through His World

Hashem's Word, Reflected Through His World

Rav Ezra Atiya zy"a teaches a Gemara. "How is this possible?" his talmid asks. "How does this work with reality as we know it?" Undeniable proof – Hashem's Word, as reflected in His world

They set times for Torah learning. They were the craftsmen, the tailors and taxi drivers, store owners and common laborers of Yerushalayim of old. They were men who worked for a living but knew well where life really began. There, surrounded by the familiar sight of hundreds of sefarim, ensconced in the holy walls of Yeshivat Porat Yosef, they gathered each day, Gemaras open before them.

Rav Ezra Atiya was their teacher, leader, and guide, and the Torah's words were the glue that bound them together. His brow creased in concentration as his words emerged, clear and full of vitality, serving up the sweet words of the Gemara with brilliant clarity and insight. As the Chazon Ish zt"l described it, "Rav Atiya's sevarah is like that of the Rishonim."

A Western wind blew through the large windows overlooking the Kosel plaza. All eyes and ears were bent toward Rav Atiya, as the people waited for the shiur to begin.

They were learning the gemara in Chulin (139) about the mitzvah of shiluach haken.

"What is the halachah regarding a bird's nest that was made on a man's head?" Rav Atiya began.

A question burst from the participant sitting in the third row and rang through the quiet beis midrash, as if with a mind of its own.

"But, kevod HaRav, that's impossible!" the man cut in. "How would a bird possibly build a nest on a man's head when the mere sight of a moving human being is enough to send it flying?"

Somewhat sternly, Rav Atiya responded, "The words of Gemara are holy of holies, and we have no permission to question their validity!"

But the man wouldn't let up. He continued arguing that the picture painted by the Gemara was realistically impossible.

The room was silent. There was a certain tension in the air, perhaps engendered by intense waves of silent communion and tefillah emerging from the heart and neshamah of the gadol baTorah sitting at their helm.

And then, the silence was broken. Into the yeshivah entered an old-time participant on the shiur who hadn't been seen in many weeks. Sudden exclamations and shalom aleichems were thrown his way.

"We missed you," one of the participants said to the newcomer. "Where have you been?"

The man walked up to the rosh yeshivah and bent reverently in greeting, addressing the rosh yeshivah and the entire group as one.

"I had to be abroad in India for business," he explained. For most of the participants, India was as far away as the moon, and a new round of exclamations echoed through the room.

"Nu," prompted one talkative member of the group. "Tell us about India. What did you see there?"

"It is a strange country," the man responded, his eyes gazing into the distance. "I saw the strangest things there in the marketplace."

"Like what?" the man asked curiously. "Well..." The newcomer cleared his throat, obviously enjoying the attention. "You'll never believe it, but I saw it with my own eyes, there in the marketplace in Bangladesh. I saw," and he paused dramatically, "I saw a strange man who'd been sitting like a statue literally not moving, as if he were a stone, for several days. And the birds built a nest on his head!"

He looked around at all the amazed expressions.

"You all better believe this," he said, shaking his head. "I saw it with my own eyes." He turned to the rosh yeshivah. "What does the Rav say about this?" he asked respectfully.

"What do I say?" Rav Atiya responded with a twinkle in his eye. "I say - there is a Ruler of this world, and He runs His world with exact hashgachah pratis, down to the smallest of details. And today," he added, "you were His good messenger."

"And all His words are emes," he concluded emotionally.