Operation Inspiration

I recently made a trip to Israel where I rented an apartment for a week. One day, as I headed for the elevator, two fellows in work clothing passed me, going the other way. Upon my arrival at the elevator, I noted that one of the two was lit up, with a message saying, “Out of Order.” My initial reaction was to worry that it would be hard to get an elevator, and, “Oh no! Will I have to climb the stairs?” I’d done it on Shabbos, but during the week?

However, my fears were short-lived as I pressed the button and the other elevator door slid open, as if it had been waiting there just for me. I needn’t have worried, since the fact that one lift was out of order didn’t necessarily mean I would have a problem. I realized that my other fears were unfounded, and that the elevator HAD been waiting there just for me.

I reflected on how often we take in a situation and imagine it in one way, when in reality it’s another. Or maybe it’s both ways. One morning, as I returned to the building in Yerushalayim where I was staying, a teenager exited the door as I approached the building, and I saw he was holding it for me. Appreciative of this consideration, especially since I was a visitor and didn’t know the boy, I hurried towards it with a smile. “Toda!” I called out cheerily, as I rounded the doorway. As I did so, I almost bumped into the woman who was coming out, as she called, “Toda Rabba!” to the same youth for holding the door for her!

I felt a bit foolish, like when someone waves at you across a room and you smile and wave back, then realize their greeting was intended for someone behind you. Here, I thought he was holding it for me, but he was really holding it for someone else. But the truth is, that would be an incorrect assumption also.

True, the boy’s focus may have been on the woman coming out. However, he may also have seen me and thought about holding it for me. In fact, he may really have been holding it for ME, and SHE was the one who was mistaken and just thought he was holding it for her. I don’t think I’ll ever know what really motivated him, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Hashem orchestrated this so the door would be opened for both myself and the woman coming out. My view of the situation is inconsequential, since regardless, I’d have to be appreciative of the doorholder even if I wasn’t his main concern.

It just goes to show that we don’t have the ability to see and reconcile all that goes on around us. We may think we have the facts but we don’t. At least, not at the beginning. Want to hear another story from my trip? I knew you’d say yes.

Well, Shabbos morning I davened at a small shul where I’ve davened before, made up mostly of retirees with a few younger people. The Gabbai asked one of the regulars to lead Shacharis, and I was a bit surprised. Often, I am asked to daven for the amud when I visit places. It’s not that I’m a great chazan or anything, but I’m a new person and not one of the four regulars who are willing to daven. It’s my pleasure to make the Gabbai’s job a bit easier, and I consider myself a capable Baal Tefila, who can get the job done.

I figured they didn’t want to bother me, or didn’t know if I’d be able to daven. At one point, I had to run back to my apartment for something, and as I did, I met an English-speaking woman who asked me for directions. I was sadly unfamiliar with the area, but because I had made conversation with a fellow in the building just before Shabbos, when she mentioned the name of the shul she was looking for, I was able to direct her based on his gesturing in a certain direction and having seen people walking down a certain street. When this happened, I realized that the Gabbai could NOT have asked me to daven, because I was meant to be outside to offer help to this other visitor.

When I got back, and we were about to take out the Torah, the Gabbai asked the man in front of me to open the Aron Kodesh. Then he turned to me and said, “I can hear that you have a nice voice; please daven Mussaf for us.” So, when they passed me over for Shacharis, it wasn’t because I wasn’t meant to daven. It was because I had something else to do first.

I’d seen things in the order I imagined them to be, but Hashem taught me that His timing is the correct timing, and the chronology of my limited perspective may just be… well… out of order.

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