When we perform chessed, we often assume we’re doing it for someone else’s sake. Yet in truth, HaKadosh Baruch Hu may be arranging it for our benefit — sometimes we see it, and sometimes we don’t.
Rabbi Dov Wachman, Rosh Kollel of Beis Midrash L’Torah, shared with me a remarkable story that he knows firsthand.
It was Wednesday morning, Parshas Vayeira, 5786. Mrs. Deutsch, a young frum housewife, was seated on the 7:30 a.m. bus leaving Bnei Brak en route to Yerushalayim, heading to her studies.
The bus crawled through the traffic near Aluf Sadeh and finally reached the Mesubim intersection — a major junction on Highway 4 near Tel Aviv — where a dignified secular woman, maybe fifty years old, boarded. Every seat was taken, and though many passengers were taking up extra space with their bags, no one seemed inclined to move them aside.
As the chiloni woman slowly made her way down the aisle, she almost reached the second-to-last row where Mrs. Deutsch sat with a large bag beside her. Noticing her discomfort, Mrs. Deutsch smiled, lifted her bag, and warmly motioned for her to sit.
The woman accepted but sat stiffly, unsmiling. Within moments she began voicing her disapproval of the chareidim — their “world,” their “ways,” their “draft exemptions,” a running monologue of grievances.
Mrs. Deutsch bit her tongue. Is this why I offered her the seat? I didn’t sign up for a lecture about religion, she thought as she turned toward the window.
A few minutes passed. Then, unexpectedly, the woman softened. “You know,” she said quietly, “the small gesture you made really touched me. I walked from seat to seat looking for a place, and you were so kind — you practically called me to sit next to you.”
Mrs. Deutsch smiled politely, glad she had helped, but not looking to open a whole conversation.
But the woman kept going. “Why are you traveling? What do you do in life?”
Seeing that she had softened and was now genuinely curious, Mrs. Deutsch answered. One thing led to another... and she found herself sharing everything — even her illness, what she’d endured, the treatments, the side effects.
The woman leaned in, suddenly alert. She began asking very specific questions: Where she was treated? Which medications? What were the reactions?
It became clear that she was intimately familiar with every detail.
“I’m a doctor at Sheba Medical Center,” she finally said.
Interesting, thought Mrs. Deutsch — but still, nothing too dramatic.
They continued talking in medical terms. Then came the question that changed everything:
“They didn’t refer you to me?!”
“What? What’s your name?” Mrs. Deutsch asked, surprised by her tone.
“Dr. Perchik.”
Mrs. Deutsch froze. “Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking her hand. “I have an appointment with you in two months. I’ve been waiting for it for half a year.”
Dr. Perchik is the rosh machlaka — the chief specialist in the interface between oncology and endocrinology. In simple terms, she is the exact expert needed for Mrs. Deutsch’s rare, complicated case.
Appointments with her through Maccabi insurance are backed up until 2027. Mrs. Deutsch had miraculously secured one for December 2025 — and now, the doctor herself was sitting right beside her... with a full half hour left on the ride.
And on top of everything, Dr. Perchik felt indebted to her because she had given her a seat.
By the time the bus neared Yerushalayim, Dr. Perchik had already taken down Mrs. Deutsch’s name and ID number, promised to move up her appointment, help her navigate Maccabi’s bureaucracy, send essential prescriptions and referrals, and offer instructions, warnings, and guidance. In short — the longest and most detailed medical consultation she would ever receive happened right there on the bus.
Before they parted, Dr. Perchik shared warmly about her very religious grandfather and her deep closeness to Judaism — a side of her that became visible only after someone treated her with simple human kindness.
Aside from the breathtaking hashgacha pratis, we are reminded of the power of one small act. Mrs. Deutsch had assumed she was doing a quiet act of chessed by offering her seat. But Hashem had orchestrated the encounter entirely for her own good.
Sometimes, the favor we think we’re doing for someone else... is really Hashem’s way of sending us a gift.
