Rabbi Chaim Shaul Bruk

Hashgachah pratis, the recognition of the Divine Providence dictating everything that transpires in our life and the world around us, is accepted as Judaism 101. Yes, there was a time starting from the era of the Rambam all the way to the Mekubalim like the Ramak, all the way to the Maharal of Prague, who saw the particular hashgachah, Divine intervention and providence, in different ways. The Baal Shem Tov institutionalized what is now considered basic Jewish belief by all, that everything is guided and dictated by full-on Divine Providence.

A chassid, Reb Reuven Dunin, lived in Haifa, worked as a tractor operator, and was a soul on fire. At times, people would ask him “Reuven, Mah shlomeich, How are you?” To which he would respond with brutal honesty “Lo beseder, Baruch Hashem, not good, thank G-d.” He understood that whatever happens is Divinely ordained. He lived with the Talmudic tenet of Rabbi Akivah that “everything that Hashem does is for the good.” As a human being with physical challenges, emotional/mental hiccups, financial obstacles, it felt like it was “Lo beseder,” but it was still Baruch Hashem, because we always express gratitude to Hashem for each moment, no matter how tough the moment may be.

In our parashah, Beshalach, we read of, perhaps, the most vivid episode of Divine Providence. As the Jews stood at the sea of reeds, freaking out because they felt hopeless, the Egyptians were behind them, the sea before them, and it felt like everything was closing in on them. They differed in approach, one group was screaming we should fight the Egyptians, another demanded a prayer service seeking Hashem’s intervention, yet another wanted the Jews to surrender and head back to Mitzrayim, and one group even contemplated mass suicide. Yet, Nachshon Ben Aminadav embodied a recognition that Hashem has a plan and if He said to go to Sinai, then we march forward to Sinai, without being concerned about the sea. Of course, that’s what did the trick and the sea split for the incredible miracle of Kriyas Yam Suf.

Nachshon was a chassid. He didn’t pontificate, rationalize, question, or procrastinate. He internalized hashgachah pratis; he lived by the axiom that “Hashem makes no mistakes” and so the other options were ridiculous in his eyes. Surrender? Suicide? War? Prayer? There is a time for prayer, there is a time for war, but this was not the time. Suicide and surrender? Those are never options for a Jew when dealing with a Pharaoh. Nachshon had bitachon, utmost trust in Hashem and His providence in our lives, and trusted that if He said to head in that direction, nothing, even a massive body of water, can be considered an obstacle.

Last Friday, Erev Shabbos Parashas Bo, Bozeman was hit with a gezetzte blizzard. It’s not like we aren’t used to continuous snow from Yom Kippur until after Shavuos, but this particular storm was a mixture of snow, slush, ice, 24 hours of non-stop snowing, and a major drop in temperatures. We still had four guests for Shabbos dinner, and, though Friday night dumped another foot of snow in our driveway, my son Menny and I headed out to shul at 9:15 a.m. Shabbos morning for the minyan at 10:00 a.m. It was a few degrees below zero with gusty winds, but it wasn’t snowing and with the right gear on, getting to shul was no big deal.

A member of our shul had a yahrzeit for his dad, Laizer Ben Moshe, on Shabbos the 6th of Shevat, so despite the forecast and despite two regulars not feeling well and two others being out of town, I riled up the chevra to get a minyan so he could say Kaddish and honor his dad. I got two college kids from MSU to commit to coming, five regulars, the one who needed to say Kaddish, a senior citizen neshamah, myself, and as an 11th I asked a young Jew in his early 30’s, who has been to many holiday celebrations but never to a minyan, to join and he agreed.

I started on time, as we always do, with two men and one woman in shul. By Baruch She’amar, we were up to three men, by Ashrei, we had four. By Nishmas, we had six. By Shema, we had eight. And by Shemoneh Esrei, we had nine men and three women. Just as we started Shir Shel Yom, the Song of the Day, the tenth man arrived, and we moved right into Krias HaTorah. Here’s the humor: the one who needed to say Kaddish hadn’t arrived at this point. It was slightly uncomfortable as I asked people to join for his Kaddish, but life is what it is, and I realized right there and then that Hashem had a plan. I thought he’d show up sooner or later.

He didn’t.

The young man who was my 11th was called up for Shlishi. Asking him his Hebrew name, he told me “Yochanan Ben Jay.” My brother’s name is Yochanan so I liked it. After my sermon, before Mussaf, he needed to leave, so I asked him, “When was the last time you were called up for an aliyah at the Torah?” His response: “I’ve never been called to the Torah.” I asked, “Even at your bar mitzvah?” He said, “No, it’s the first time ever.”

After davening I marveled with my community about Divine Providence. The one who pushed for the minyan was the fellow who didn’t show. Yet, in his father’s honor, on the day of the yahrzeit, a young Jew was elevated, uplifted, for the first time in his life at the Torah. I mean, I am not G-d and don’t always get His sense of humor, but this was crystal clear, one guy pushed a minyan for one reason and Hashem made it happen for another. Perhaps they are interconnected, perhaps the neshamah of Laizer Ben Moshe needed Yochanan Ben Jay to get an aliyah to bring his soul comfort in the heavenly abode.

As I walked back from shul along with two community members and my son, I marveled at the Nachshon moment. We could bicker about the fellow who pushed and didn’t show (It turns out, his wife didn’t want him to leave home in the crazy frigid weather). I could feel ashamed because I asked people to come and then not fulfil the service requested. Or, even better, we can say G-d wanted a minyan because it’s Shabbos, the fact that we planned for a yahrzeit and it turned into a bar mitzvah, is something only Hashem Yisborach could arrange.

Last Wednesday was Yud Shevat, the day on which the previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneerson, passed away in 1950 and the day on which his son-in-law and successor, the Rebbe, assumed the mantle of Lubavitch leadership. For the past seventy-three years, the Rebbe, through his talks, letters, farbrengens, and interactions, has taught the Jewish world to see the good in each neshamah, the interconnectedness of all facets of Torah, and the beauty embedded in the hashgachah pratis of each moment. Without him and his teachings, Chavie and I wouldn’t be in Montana, Chassidus wouldn’t be studied across the globe, and we wouldn’t be on the precipice of the geulah, the ultimate redemption with Mashiach. Today, I say L’Chaim and thank Hashem for giving me the Rebbe’s lenses so that I can see more of the Divine wherever I look, and do my part to make Hashem’s garden an eternal home for His glorious presence.

Rabbi Chaim Bruk is co-CEO of Chabad Lubavitch of Montana and spiritual leader of The Shul of Bozeman. For comments or to partner in our holy work, e-mail rabbi@jewishmontana.com or visit JewishMontana.com/Donate.

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