Tamir was very firm and secure in his decision to become a ba’al teshubah, but his brother Amos was still vacillating. He believed and he didn’t believe, wanted but didn’t dare, was afraid to try yet afraid to fail. Tamir would reassure him over and over, but Amos was too scared to take the plunge. At a certain point, they decided to go to Rabbi Chaim Kanievsky in Bnei Brak, and ask him about Amos’s doubts and concerns.
The taxi made its way through the crowded streets of Bnei Brak to the corner of Hazon Ish and Admor MiGur Streets and stopped for the brothers to ask directions.
“Excuse me, little boy. Where is Rabbi Chaim Kanievsky’s house?”
“Get out here,” the boy said, “and go straight down this street till you get to Meltzer Street. Harav Kanievsky lives across the street from the Wagshall wedding hall, I think.”
They paid the driver, got out and started walking. They were approaching Meltzer Street when suddenly two boys came running up the street after them, huffing and puffing for all they were worth. “Excuse me,” one of them said, out of breath. “Are you the ones from the taxi who asked directions?”
The brothers confirmed that, yes, they were indeed.
I Sent You to the Wrong Place
“I’m so sorry, really sorry. I made a mistake. After you left, just to be sure, I asked my friend, and he told me I had sent you the wrong way. You’re completely in the wrong place.”
Amos couldn’t help smiling. Imagine one of the kibbutz children going out of his way like this, he thought. Not likely. There was something about the tenor of the whole incident that he had never before encountered.
The boy begged them to let him take them where they needed to go, all the way to the door. “I’ll just call my parents and tell them I’ll be a little late,” he said. “I know exactly where the Rav lives now.”
The second boy tugged at his friend’s sleeve and whispered loudly, “I think you have to pay for their taxi.”
The first boy began to apologize even harder. “Of course, I’ll happily pay for a taxi for you to get there. After all, I made the mistake. I haven’t got any money, but if you come home with me – it’s not far – my parents will pay for you to take another taxi. I should never have sounded so sure of myself when I didn’t really know where the Rav lives.”
Amos’s eyes filled with tears. He took hold of Tamir’s arm and said, “We don’t have to go to a Rav, Tamir. Let’s go home. I want to do teshubah. If this little boy is an example of what it’s all about, I am going to go all the way.”
A little touch of hashgachah peratit and a whole lot of kiddush Hashem, and a good measure of hesed propelled Amos into the warm embrace of his heritage. (There is no such thing as coincidence)
Reprinted from the Parashat Vayera 5784 email of Rabbi David Bibi’s Shabbat Shalom from Cyberspace
