hashgacha pratis

By: Anonymous

New York

I was going to Puerto Rico for my winter vacation. I went onto the plane and was waiting for about an hour until the captain finally told us that the delay was due to a maintenance issue. I was so scared that my plane would collapse in the middle of the air because of the issue! Thankfully, we landed safely. When I got off the plane, someone informed us that there had been a criminal on my plane that was arrested. Thank you Hashem for saving my life!!

By: Rabbi Uri Abrams

Jerusalem Israel

Just a few months ago I spent the summer traveling by car across Israel with my oldest son, 20 year-old, Srulik and his lovely wife Batya. One afternoon we found ourselves near Mt. Chermon. We seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, when suddenly my son said let’s make a minyan for mincha (afternoon prayer services). I was very surprised that my son was actually serious. We had been driving for miles and miles without a soul in sight through non-populated areas. Where in the world would we find 8 more male Jews ages 13 and older, I thought to myself he must be joking. But to my surprise he was actually very serious about it.
Suddenly we notice that on the right side of the mountain road was a beautiful look-out point with a breathtaking view of what we thought was the Syrian border. There was no one there except for two men. They were sitting together facing the breathtaking view and together they were reading from a holy book. I was surprised to see anyone at all for we had been driving for miles without a soul in sight. One of these men was obviously an Admor i.e. Chassidic Rebbi, and the other man seemed to have been his shamish (sexton). Since it wasn’t the normal time for gathering a minyan for mincha I highly doubted that any more people would arrive especially since we were in the middle of nowhere. The fact that we even found this Admor and his shamish was already so out of the ordinary it still seemed highly unlikely that there would be a minyan.
I couldn’t believe what was to happen next. Seemingly out of nowhere cars of Jews started arriving. There was a large family of Chareidim (religious Jews) and also some others all of whom arrived in their cars within minutes after our arrival. Before I knew it the father of the other family was asking us if we wanted to make a minyan for mincha. With their family, my son and I, and the Admor and his shamish we had a minyan. I watched as the other father went over to the Admor to ask him if he would join the minyan. He approached the holy man with reverence. He got closer and closer but the holy man paid no attention to him. The Admor seemed to have been so engrossed in the study of the holy book that he would not interupt to acknowledge this man’s presence, so the man just stood there waiting until after several minutes of waiting the Admor finally looked up from the book. The man asked the Admor if he would join our minyan. The Admor agreed to join our minyan but first he must finish his study session, he asked us to wait 5 minutes. We all waited, none of us were in any particular hurry anyway, and it would be an honor to have a holy man joining us for prayers, even though we didn’t really know which Admor this was, he seemed to be a very holy man.
The shamish led the prayers, and I was deeply moved by everything that was happening. It was also the first time that I have ever seen a group of wild horses. They came very close to us out of nowhere while we were waiting for the Admor. There were colts nursing from their mother, also a sight I had never seen, except maybe on TV. When the prayers were over we asked the Admor for a brocha. The hashgacha pratis was very inspiring to say the least. It’s a moment in my life which is etched in my heart and mind, these windows of hashgacha pratis where we get a glimpse that there is someone, unseen, arranging things to happen. When you experience these moments, time and time again, you begin to more than just believe, you begin to know

By: Anonymous
Woodmere, NY
I am quite fortunate of having the distinct honor and privilege to be N’s chavrusah every weekday from 3:05 until roughly around 3:45. As part of our adopted learning technique, we’ve incorporated into our study session about a 15 minute grace period which we devote solely to shmoozing. i.e. catching up on any breaking news and attempting to solve the world’s problems. We can always easily spare these few minutes, as we undoubtedly have started on time, if not early.
On one particular occasion, we actually hit upon a serious issue. We discussed at length the idea that, unfortunately, in our modern and well-to -do society there is so much food that goes to waste. Whether it be the leftovers from a wedding, bar-mitzvah, or almost any catered affair, there is so much food being thrown out daily, that could easily be distributed to those in need of it. Why not salvage all that extra Kasha and prune juice from Great Aunt Minerva’s 88th birthday party, and feed hungry people?
We spent the remainder of our session spewing forth numerous theoretical solutions to this dilemma and devising a complex plan of action. Probably none of our ideas would ever manifest into reality, yet it made us feel better to believe that we’d somehow improved the quality of life for mankind as a whole. We continued on in this manner, until my afternoon chavrusah paid us a little visit. He dropped us back into consciousness, bringing to our attention the facts that we had effectively neglected our entire seder, as well as cut into twenty minutes of the next.
That evening, I decided that I’d like to attend a particular shiur, which is given by Chacham Hillel in Me’a She’arim (almost) every week. I like to go whenever I can, and as I didn’t have much to prepare during night seder, this was an ideal opportunity. A few guys and I piled into a cab, arriving at the Chacham’s yeshivah just as he was scheduled to begin. Before we entered inside however, his shammos intercepted us to relay the message that there would be no shiur that night. Usually someone calls to inform us when the class is cancelled, but for some reason, we’d been overlooked this time. Already being in Me’a She’arim, with nothing to do, we decided to conduct ourselves like all typical Jewish boys. We went out to eat. We stopped into a restaurant tucked away somewhere in a corner, a place I’d never been to before. We were about to sit down and order, but at that point (I’m not exactly sure why) I determined that the restaurant wasn’t exactly my speed. I wanted to try somewhere else instead. We trudged out onto the street in search of another fine establishment. We eventually chose a place.
Having had pleasant exchanges with the manager as well as a decent meal, we were preparing to leave the joint and head back to yeshivah. At that point, the bored employee swaggered over to our table and began making small talk with us. Somewhere amidst the conversation, he presented an interesting proposal to us. In his store he had large amounts of prepared food that he’d intended to sell before shabbos. For whatever the reason, his calculations had not gone as planned, providing him with tons of leftovers. He told us that he would no longer sell it, as it wasn’t freshly made. Yet it was still perfectly good and there was no need for it to go to waste. He asked us to take it off his hands and give it out to whomever we deemed worthy. So we loaded up a few hundred(!) shekels worth of delicacies, and pranced our way down Rechov Me’a She’arim. That night was Lag B’omer. There were lots of people around. As we continued along, we handed out care packages to any poor people who wanted them. There was one old lady who was so delighted to be receiving such a fantastic treasure. She repeatedly asked for more and more, to be able to feed her large family of six children and seven dwarves. In return for the handouts, we received an elated toothless smile.
We completed our rounds, and distributed as much as we were able. Heading back to yeshivah, I felt a gentle calm wash over me. G-D had definitely been sending me a message. I reviewed the events of the last few hours in my ever-pacing mind. First of all, the ‘coincidental’ topic of my invigorating conversation with N- just that very day! Then the lack of material to prepare for night seder. The idea to go to the shiur that was planted in my brain (which still remains). The case of the missing Chacham, which led to our decision to dine out in style. The last minute switching of the restaurant followed by that rare and unique suggestion to take the food. I was awed by the play-out of events, and the obvious existence of the Grand Chess Master sitting up there, moving around all those little pieces.

By: Yitzy Kolodny
Queens, NY
It had been a while since I’d spoken to Tuvia. I had run into him while in New York over Pesach, and he told me that he was back in Israel. We decided that we were going to get together when I came to Tzfat for shabbos. We exchanged phone numbers and I said I’d get in touch.
On my third motzei Shabbos back in Israel, my chavrusa called me up, saying that he had a present for me from my friend Tuvia. He had gotten it when he was in Tzfat for Shabbos. When I returned to yeshiva, I was surprised to find a bottle of Johnny Walker on my bed, with a letter telling me to enjoy it. The reason for my surprise, other than the fact that I just got a nice bottle of whiskey from a friend, is that I never drink.
There I was wondering what to do with the bottle. I knew it wouldn’t be hard to get rid of, being in a yeshiva, but as a matter of principle I don’t give away gifts.
That Tuesday night R’ B- called me franticly. He was worried that the engagement party for one of the guys planned that night, was without any alcoholic beverages. “Do you know anyone who has extra alcohol they would like to donate lekavod the chosson?” He asked me.
I replied that I would love to donate my bottle of Johnny Walker for the occasion. When I next spoke with my friend Tuvia I asked him why he sent me that bottle, knowing that I don’t drink scotch- only bourbon! He answered that he had bought way too much alcohol and he figured that I could make better use of it. I most certainly did.

By: Anonymous
Silverspring, MD
My parents divorced when I was one. My mother became less religious and married a secular Jew in Chicago. I grew up in the secular environment of my mother and stepfather. I played on a hockey team, acting in plays and commercials, and hung out with friends, just like a normal teenager. During my freshman year in high school my mother divorced for the second time and my life started to change.
Slowly my mom started to become a little bit more religious due to the kiruv efforts of the Posners in Chicago. During my mothers transition she started to date a very rich, influential, and religious Jew in Chicago. He wanted me to become more religious, and with the help of a Rabbi in Skokie, Rabbi S-, I began to learn about Judaism. The first goal of Rabbi S- was to teach me Aleph-Bais and perform my Bar Mitzvah (by the age of 14, I still had not had a formal Bar Mitzvah). We spent the summer after my freshman year perfecting my reading and learning my Bar Mitzvah Haftorah. After accomplishing this feat it was suggested that I go to a yeshiva the following year. I didn’t mind learning a bit of Judaism, but going to yeshiva was a little too much. With the pushing of my mother, the influence of her boyfriend, and the love of my Rebbe I was forced to go to Yeshiva of Greater Washington in Silver Spring, Maryland.
Going from public high school to a Yeshiva wasn’t the prettiest of adjustments. I absolutely despised yeshiva and hated having to keep all the rules of the school and the religion. I agreed with the basic ideas of Judaism but I just wanted to have unrestricted fun. Out of this horrible situation there was a glimmer of light, Rabbi L-. The Rav was down-to-earth, funny, Sephardic, and showed that he actually cared. This bond that I made with Rabbi L- would ultimately help me to become religious. I returned to Chicago no longer wanting to go to Yeshiva, turned off from religion.
Even though my mother broke up with her boyfriend, she still wanted me to go to Jewish school and enrolled me in Ida Crown Jewish Academy. I was getting along with neither the school nor my mother, and I wanted to move out. My mother suggested that I go to a family friend in Glenwood Springs, Colorado, where I would complete my high school term. I would work, and my grandmother would help pay for the room and board. As a secular teenager I agreed to the plan, and moved to Colorado to start my junior year at public high school.
As I started to adjust to the new school and hockey team, I began to enjoy my new life in Colorado. With the direction of the family friend, I began straightening my life and making goals: to finish high school, work for a year, play hockey, and then go to college (hopefully with a hockey scholarship).
All the plans were running smoothly until I suddenly began to think. As I came back from the usual “everyone-gets-drunk” party, my thinking began. I climbed up on top of the jeep in front of the house, and lay there thinking. It was at this moment that I had my life-changing talk with the Almighty. I believed in the religion, and felt that life actually did have a purpose, but I was too lazy to do anything about it. I told G-d that I would get around to becoming religious, but right now I just wanted to have fun.
Hashem didn’t like this plan, and decided to send me a message. My friend and I worked at the same restaurant together, and I always used to borrow his car (even though I had no license). One night, I finished working for him, and told him I would take the car home, and then return to pick him up an hour later. Returning to pick him up, I attempted a 30-MPH turn at 65 MPH. The physics of this maneuver did not work properly; I spun out of control into a ditch on the side of the road. Thank G-d I was ok, but the car was absolutely totaled. Just my luck, the cops happened to roll by, and quickly figured out what happened. I was charged for driving without a license and insurance in my friend’s rental car. This was the worst moment of my entire life. Later, I worked out a deal with the insurance company to pay the damage of $6,000.
After this incident, I received a letter inviting me to fulfill my life’s dream. It was an invitation to tryouts for a semi-professional hockey league. Even though I was working 6 days a week to pay the insurance company, I managed to get the weekend off to attend the tryouts. Many teams scouted me, but one team was particularly interested, and requested my attendance at their private tryout, the following week. I would surely get accepted, and all I would have to do was show up. Unfortunately, my boss denied me another weekend off, threatening to fire me. I couldn’t risk losing my job because of the debt, so I missed the opportunity of a lifetime.
Despite these speed bumps, my goals continued and I received the best job ever – working for a bar in Aspen, Colorado. I had an apartment across from the best skiing mountains in America, $25/hour cash, a fake ID, and I was playing on the Aspen hockey team, preparing for college hockey. Even though I had everything, I really had nothing.
During this period, I received a phone call from my father. Ever since my parents had divorced, my father had continually tried to influence me to embrace my heritage, and become orthodox. He would always pray for this and never gave up in his attempts. One week, he suggested that I go visit Rabbi L-, in Maryland, for Rosh Hashana. I agreed because I liked Rabbi L-, but also because my father was paying for the trip. The whole time I was there, the Rabbi argued about the direction in which my life was heading. I finally gave in, and said I would do something. I returned to Colorado, closed my bank accounts, quit my job and my position on the hockey team, and left for Israel, subsequently enrolling in the Derech Institute for Torah Studies.
Hashem knew that the only way that I would become religious was if I would stop my hockey career and my pursuit of fun. Even though the car accident was the worst day of my life, I have no doubt that if I had made the hockey team, I would not be religious today. So perhaps, that day was better than I thought it was; it was a day of Hashgacha Pratis. To curb my pursuit of fun, Hashem had inundated me with so much fun, that I needed to change my life. That’s when I went to Rabbi L-’s house and realized where my life was heading.
I would like to thank G-d for helping me find the right path. If you would ask me if the horrible crash, missing the hockey career, and giving up the pursuit of fun was worth it, I would unhesitatingly respond, Boruch Hashem YES!

By: Rabbi Uri Abrams
Jerusalem, Israel
Some people would want to say that the following story is merely a mighty fine coincidence. However, the timing involved was so exact and the event so unplanned, that it was obviously divine intervention, Hashgacha Pratis. I had just finished saying my shiur in Gemara, Meseches Megillah 8a. The gemara deals with a concept called k’sav ivri, ancient Hebrew script. In order to illustrate this concept for my students, I took out of my pocket a modern day ten-shekel coin and showed them the ancient Hebrew script minted onto the coin.
After the shiur was over, Ben Fishman, one of my students, went into the Bais Hamedrash to get his R’ Hirsch commentary to learn with his chavrusa, as per his routine. Today, however, was to be different. When he pulled his R’ Hirsch commentary off the shelf, a paper that had been wedged between his book and the others, fell out. Noticing this, Ben glanced at the paper. It was the weekly daf yomi sheet from a few weeks before. It was expounding the Gemara Sanhedrin 17a-24b. As Ben skimmed through it, he immediately noticed that it was addressing the same topic as the Megillah shiur he had just left – k’sav ivri! Not only did the paper reveal great depths of information regarding this topic, it also mentioned the fact that this script appears on the ten-shekel coin! Thank you Hashem, for showing us that you are here guiding us. Please continue to guide us always, that we may forever find favor in your eyes.