Parshas Vayeitzai 5786
- Torah Tavlin
- 2 days ago
- 3 min read
והנה אנכי עמך ושמרתיך בכל אשר תלך ... כי לא אעזבך עד אשר אם עשיתי את אשר דברתי לך ... (כח-טו)
The following story is a testament to the power of Tefillah, a touch of ruach hakodesh, a unique depth of spiritual sensitivity, and the quiet heroism of those who live with emunah. Years ago, a young man from Beis Medrash Govoha in Lakewood, was in the “Shidduch Parsha”. After concluding a date with a young lady in New York City, and seeing her back to her home, he was preparing to head out on his journey to New Jersey. The streets were bustling, the air was thick with the hum of traffic and city life. As he waited at a traffic light, his car idling quietly, two black men suddenly cranked opened the back doors and jumped into his vehicle. Their expressions were tense, their voices sharp. They demanded money.
The young man, startled but composed, explained that he had no cash on him. He had come to New York for a date, not for shopping or errands. But the men were insistent. Even frantic. They demanded cash - or else! One of them reached into his coat, and the young man sensed the situation could turn deadly. Thinking quickly, he said, “Look, I don’t have money on me, but I do have a very valuable jewel back in Lakewood, New Jersey. If you come with me there, I will give it to you.”
The two assailants paused. They whispered to each other, loudly, agitatedly, weighing their options. One suggested they kill him and take the car. The other hesitated. After a tense moment, they agreed that one of them would accompany the young man to Lakewood to retrieve the jewel and steal the car. The other would stay behind. It was decided.
The remaining invader kept his gaze trained on the bochur’s neck. As they drove south to Lakewood, the young man’s heart pounded. He didn’t know what would happen next. He prayed silently, hoping for a miracle.
Meanwhile, back in the dormitory building of the Lakewood Yeshivah, something extraordinary was unfolding. R’ Nosson Meir Wachtfogel zt”l, the revered Mashgiach of BMG, typically slept in a room in the dormitory throughout the week. That night, however, he awoke suddenly. Known for his deep spiritual sensitivity, he quickly aroused a group of talmidim.
“One of our bochurim is in danger,” he said urgently. “We must say Tehillim right away.” The bochurim, still groggy from sleep, didn’t question him. They gathered together and began reciting Tehillim with fervor, their voices rising in heartfelt prayer. They didn’t know who was in danger or what was happening, but they trusted their Mashgiach.
Back on the road, the young man continued driving, accompanied by one of the assailants who had settled in for the long drive. He tried to remain calm, speaking gently, avoiding any sudden movements.
As they approached Lakewood, he directed the car towards the dormitory building. Inside, the students were still davening when the bochur entered the dormitory building - with a tall, black stranger beside him. The hall fell silent. Some students recognized the bochur and rushed to his side. Another discreetly called the police. The rest surrounded the black man and detained him. Within minutes, law enforcement arrived and apprehended the assailant. The young man was safe. The story spread like wildfire among the students, though the Mashgiach himself remained humble and reserved. It was clearly a Divine miracle.
As time went on, the bochur continued dating and was soon engaged. (For all those who will surely ask, I do not know if it was the same girl! Ed. Note) Of course, he invited the Mashgiach, R’ Nosson, to the wedding. On the day of the wedding, he approached R’ Nosson with deep emotion. “Rebbi, how can I ever repay you for what you did for me that night?” he asked.
The Mashgiach smiled gently and replied, “There is one way. You can repay me by not telling the story to others.”
The young man was taken aback. “Everyone knows the story. But how did Rebbi know I was in danger?”
R’ Nosson hesitated for a moment. Then he shrugged softly. “Maybe ... I had a dream,” he said.
Those who knew him understood that this was no ordinary dream. It was a moment of ruach hakodesh, a divine whisper that reached the heart of a tzaddik. His response wasn’t meant to mystify, it was a reflection of his humility. He didn’t seek recognition or praise. He simply acted. Salvation doesn’t always come with thunder and lightning. Sometimes, it arrives in the form of a gentle nudge, a midnight awakening, and a room full of men reciting Tehillim with deep emotion. (Ish L’Rayahu)