Rabbi Avraham Krupnick, author of From the Desk of Rabbi Avraham Krupnick, shared an unforgettable story that Rabbi Gershon Meltzer once told him.
Late Friday night, Rabbi Gershon was seated at a shalom zachor when Rabbi Yisrael Zicherman, a revered rav in Kiryat Sefer, related an incident he knew firsthand.
Mr. Gerstone* was a respected and trusted figure. People placed their money in his hands with confidence; he invested it wisely, and for years success followed him.
Until the day it didn’t.
One of his major investments collapsed. Cash flow dried up. He could barely put bread on the table. To survive the next six months until other ventures would hopefully mature, he needed 100,000 pounds. He went to a close friend, opened his heart, and asked for the loan.
The friend didn’t hesitate. He was ready to help. “There’s just one thing,” he said gently. “I need a guarantor.”
A guarantor?! For Mr. Gerstone, that word was terrifying. If anyone discovered he required backing, the rumor mill would devour him. Investors would flee. His business would crumble overnight.
“So who will guarantee the loan?” the friend asked.
Mr. Gerstone went pale.
Then he answered. “I have a guarantor: Hashem. He will back the loan — in full.” It was a shocking declaration. But the friend, moved by the man’s sincerity, agreed. The loan was issued. Mr. Gerstone walked away relieved, hopeful that within months the nightmare would pass.
But six months came, and six months went. The hoped-for income never arrived.
Yet, Mr. Gerstone was not the type to hide from a debt. He put on his coat and walked to his friend’s house. “It’s been six months,” he said. “I came because I want you to know I’m not ignoring what I owe you. But I still don’t have the money.”
The lender nodded understandingly. When Mr. Gerstone had left, the lender went into his study and closed the door. He turned upward. “Ribbono Shel Olam,” he whispered, “You were taken as the Guarantor. The time has come, and the borrower cannot pay. So, I am turning to You. But, here is my request. I don’t want repayment in cash. I have two daughters of marriageable age. Please — let them become engaged and married. That is worth more to me than the money.”
It did not take a month, and the older daughter became a kallah. And soon after, the second. The lender overflowed with gratitude. Heaven had answered.
Several months later, there was a knock at the door. Mr. Gerstone stood there holding a thick envelope. “I’ve come to repay the loan.”
The lender shook his head. “There is no loan. The Guarantor already paid.”
“But I owe you,” Mr. Gerstone insisted.
“I can’t take it,” replied the lender. “I don’t want to give back what the Guarantor gave me — the two shidduchim. Please, keep the money.”
But Mr. Gerstone refused to leave. Money owed must be repaid.
After much back and forth, they agreed to ask a rav. A distinguished rav from Eretz Yisrael was visiting, and they presented the question to him. After hearing both sides, he said, “This is beyond me. You must ask my rebbi, Rabbi Shmuel Wosner (1913–2015).”
Rabbi Wosner ruled that since it was a shemitah year (2001), the funds should be given to Keren Hashevi’is to support the farmers who faithfully observe shemitah.
And with that, both men found peace. The lender kept his gratitude, and the borrower fulfilled his obligation.
When Mr. Gerstone declared, “Hashem is my Guarantor,” it sounded almost poetic — maybe even desperate. But in Heaven, it was treated as a contract. Because when a Jew truly places his trust in the Ribbono Shel Olam, the guarantee is not symbolic. It is collectible.
