There are no coincidences in this world.
That may seem hard to swallow or even overly spiritual to some; and as a natural rationalist I may have even agreed with you a few weeks ago. But having lived in Israel now for almost 20 years, with the daily dramas we endure, the interconnectivity of events become readily more apparent and harder to overlook.
R’ Emmanuel Meshulam served as a mohel for over 40 years in Rechovot, continuing to practice almost into his nineties. A video surfaced of a recent ceremony he performed. As he had done thousands of times before, R’ Meshulam set the baby in the lap of the sandak in preparation of the procedure. He paused momentarily, stood upright, and fell directly backwards. The crowd was aghast. Commotion ensued. The mohel was unresponsive.
Emergency services were dispatched to the location. The EMT on call knew nothing more than that there was someone in distress at a brit milah. When he arrived to attempt resuscitation, he noticed the mohel in distress was his grandfather. Sadly, he was unable to resuscitate him. As a colleague of mine expressed upon seeing the footage, “It seemed as if Eliyahu HaNavi had come to take him.”
That very morning before the brit milah, R’ Meshulam had given his longtime student of four years ordination to be a practicing mohel. The student happened to be at the event and stepped in to complete the mitzvah his teacher was unable to perform.
A family recently reached out to me to perform their son’s brit milah. The lead up to the event seemed identical to all the previous ones I had done. The father filled out a form that provided me with the relevant details: from the baby’s time of birth and weight to the time and location of the brit. The father made mention of the fact that the baby was a bit under-weight and born slightly early. It was nothing drastic so I all but overlooked the matter. “He was a twin,” the father told me. But the form made no mention of that. “His brother had a cord issue and didn’t make it.”
The event took place on Yom Yerushalayim. It was both joyous and somber. There were tears of joy and pain. The most poignant moments of britot tend to center around the baby’s name. Especially in Israel where we’ve lost so many of our soldiers and civilians, it can be hard for a non-family member like myself to know exactly what the meaning is behind the name choice.
But this brit was different. The most powerful moment came when the mother said Birkat HaGomel – the prayer for surviving a harrowing experience. I often have to explain the content and relevance of the prayer and the recitation tends to go unnoticed. But not this time. No explanation was necessary for all who heard the mother struggle through her tears while thanking G-d for her fortune.
The following day, at another brit milah, I noticed a woman I’d interacted with many times before. She and her husband had struggled for some time to have a child. Thankfully, they’ve been blessed with a three-year-old son. “We’re trying again,” she told me, insinuating that challenges persist. “We’d love for him to have a sibling,” she added. The couple was honored with processing the baby from the mother to the father – a segulah for conception.
When the brit milah had concluded, the mother asked me for the knife (also a segulah) and a blessing. I willingly obliged in both regards. After handing her the wrapped up blade, I proceeded to give her a blessing. I wished her all the standard things but I completed with, “And may Hashem bless you with a baby soon.” “A healthy, living baby,” she added. That’s what I wish for us all.
Then there was the murder of a mother on her way to give birth. Tzeela and her husband Hananel Gez were en route to one of the happiest moments of their lives when a terrorist rained gunfire on their car, taking the mother’s life and leaving the baby on life support. As is often done, the father named the baby so we can pray for his speedy recovery. His name is Ravid Chaim ben Tzeela. But the significance of this name went beyond just our ability to beseech HaKadosh Baruch Hu for his well-being.
An army unit was dispatched to bring the perpetrator to justice. The terrorist was found and eliminated not long after the news of the event. Those on the mission went to the family’s home to inform them. When they asked the commanding officer his name he responded: Ravid Chaim.
Many who heard the tragic news of Tzeela’s murder were moved but none like the owner of Victory Market. He vowed to adopt the family, promising them free produce for life. It just so happens that the owner’s name is Eyal Ravid and the founder, his father, is Chaim.
To some, these stories may seem like disconnected events. They could appear as coincidences with little meaning. But there’s more going on than that. At times, the recognition that everything in life happens for a reason is a devotion of blind faith. Our reality is unlike the experience of Matan Torah, when G-d’s presence was seen in the thunder and heard in the lightning. Today we must seek out the divine around us.
But there are other times, even in our modern world, when tragedy seems to be the only news of the day, when one overwhelming story after another seems to rush over us like a river, that we hear echoes of that thunder and lightning. It’s at these times that Hashem wants us to know He’s still there, orchestrating everything in the background, even if we have to dig a little to see the true meaning of events.
