I am an avreich from Kiryat Sefer. Ever since I established my home, b’shaah tovah, and opened a bank account, as any other young couple would do, I was careful that the account would never be overdrawn, so as not to have problems with ribbis, chas v’shalom. I knew that there is a heter iska, and there are all kinds of opinions that are more lenient about this matter, but I wanted to be machmir. I wanted it to be glatt, without any compromise. Hashem helped, and indeed, on my bank statement there was never a line printed in red.
Part of the way I manage is that I don’t use checks at all. Who could guarantee me that the person who received the check would cash it only at a time when there was money in the account? I didn’t want to reach a state where someone trying to cash a check would put my account in the red, so I refrained from paying for anything at all using checks.
That’s all well and good when dealing with my own matters, but my stubbornness about this doesn’t always help when dealing with others. One day I discovered there was no choice. I had to write checks. I have a wonderful son, who needs to take a course that is crucial for him, and payment for this course is only by checks. In the beginning of the year they asked for twelve post-dated checks, promising that they would cash them only on the exact date written on the check.
I didn’t like it, but I had no choice. I hoped they would live up to their word, and this indeed proved itself. Month after month, each check was cashed on the exact date I had written on it.
The day after Sukkos, I called my bank to check on my account. This was not an average call to the bank. This was a phone call marking my farewell to the amazing experience of the Yom Tov, because throughout the days of Chol Hamoed I hadn’t called the bank at all. And now, with my return to routine, there was no choice, and I would have to do this as well.
According to my calculations, I thought I would hear that the amount of money in the account was close to zero, but to my surprise, I heard that there were 200 shekels in the account.
Two hundred shekels? How was that possible? How had it happened?
Then I discovered, amazingly enough, that the date on one of the checks I had written was on Chol Hamoed, when it hadn’t occurred to me to
