Sometimes the heavens simply connect the dots so precisely that you stand amazed before the story and understand: this is no coincidence.
Last week, a friend from the reserves called me. He lives in a kibbutz in the Sharon region, and in recent years he has taken responsibility for the kibbutz shul. In an excited voice, he told me: "You don't understand, there's a real awakening here. We used to gather maybe on Yom Kippur, maybe on Rosh Hashanah. Today, there's almost a full minyan every Shabbos. People who haven't entered a shul in years are coming, davening, and connecting. It just happens.
How amazing is that. A kibbutz belonging to the Hashomer Hatzair movement, a place where the memory of prayer had almost disappeared, suddenly returns and reconnects with its Jewish roots.
And then he added: "There's only one problem: our Torah scrolls. We have two. One is a Sefardi sefer, old and broken, difficult to read, and the other is Ashkenazi, also worn out with a torn cover. Both are probably not kosher. Do you know anyone who can help?
I said to him immediately, "Yes. Shlomo Re'anan from the 'Ayelet Hashachar' organization. That's exactly what he's doing – strengthening shuls in kibbutzim and bringing light to communities that have drifted a bit from their Jewish roots and traditions.
I sent him Shlomo's number. After a few minutes, he returned to me, excited: "Listen, what an amazing person. He's already taking care of it!
After about half an hour, my friend came back to me again, really crying from excitement. You don't understand what happened, Shlomo asked me one simple and profound question: "Is there anyone in your kibbutz who was killed in the war?" And I replied to him: "Yes, we had a young officer who was killed in the war."
Solomon paused for a moment and said, "Listen, I have a new and ready-to-use Torah scroll whose writing was just completed. The donor wants to donate it in memory of a soldier who fell in the war. But first and foremost, ask his parents if they will agree to let the Torah be donated to the shul for the elevation of his soul.
The friend called the father and told him. The father said he needed to ask his wife, and a short time later he returned to him, excited: "I spoke with her, and we are very interested. But you have to know something amazing: when they opened the shul here in the kibbutz, it was exactly on the Shabbos when we celebrated our son's bar mitzvah – the Shabbos of Parshas Vayera. He was the first person to be called up to the Torah in the kibbutz shul. And this week, in that very same parsha, a year will pass since his death. And now, on that same Shabbos and in that same place – we are receiving a new Torah scroll in his memory. It's simply unbelievable how precise everything is.
A single moment of connection between a fallen fighter, a kibbutz that returns to prayer, and a new Torah scroll that arrives just in time. Divine accuracy with not a single error.
02
This story reminded me of another, no less accurate story I heard several years ago:
Cleveland, Ohio. Shabbos morning. A quiet shul, full of people davening in talleisim. Next to the shul stands a strange man, looking inside through the window. He arrived by car, stood outside for long minutes, looked around, and disappeared immediately after the Torah scroll was raised.
This happened week after week. Until one day they approached him and said, "Why are you standing outside?" Come in. And he entered. Slowly, humbly.
Slowly, he became a regular davener and returned to his Judaism.
When asked what brought him specifically to the moment of the lifting of the Torah, he said: "I grew up in a completely disconnected home. But a few years ago, I came to Yerushalayim on a work trip. On Shabbos morning, I accidentally entered a shul in Rechavia, stood in the empty women's section, and watched. And then the lifting of the Torah came. And at that moment, something happened to me that cannot be explained. I felt as if someone from above was saying to me in my heart: 'How precious you are to me, how much I love you.' It was a warmth I had never experienced before. When I returned to Cleveland, I couldn't forget it. I was looking again to see a Torah scroll being raised, and that's how I ended up here. First from the outside, then from the inside. And the rest, you already know.
One of the worshipers asked to find out which synagogue this was in Jerusalem. And it turned out that it was Rabbi Sher's synagogue. That person traveled to Yerushalayim and told Rabbi Sher about it.
The rabbi smiled and said, "I remember this Torah very well. When I was a rabbi in a community in Cleveland, we were looking for a kosher Torah scroll, but we didn't have any money.
We turned to a righteous woman in the city who collected money for charity. She agreed to fund the entire amount, on one condition: that we recite "Mi Sheberach" for the recovery of her grandson, who was born prematurely and is in a serious condition. We bought the Torah, read from it, and davened over it. The baby recovered. When I came to Israel, I brought this Torah with me. And the Torah that was read that Shabbos in Rechavia – it is exactly the same Torah.
And then it turned out that the man standing there, the one who was moved to tears when they lifted the Torah – was that same grandson. The premature baby after whom the first "Mi Sheberach" was said, forty years prior.
And the book that connected him to his roots – it was the one his righteous grandmother donated.
• • •
Two stories, two souls. And among them, one golden thread – a Torah scroll that connects heaven and earth, parents and children, past and future.
There is a Divine hand that guides every sefer, every soul, every letter, exactly to the place where it needs to be.
There is no chance.
אורי שכטר
