A Dreadful Drive
I never told the following story in a public forum before, but since I clearly felt Heavenly intervention, I would like to publicize it now, in order to sanctify Hashem’s Name.
It was during the days of the Intifada, when danger lurked at every street corner in Eretz Yisrael. The residents of the shtachim, the settlements bordering Arab villages, were manifold times more afraid.
I spent the day visiting famous tzaddikim and Torah giants, as well as family friends, together with my daughter, Sara. We ended the day with a visit to the Kotel.
When we finished praying at the Kotel, nighttime had already fallen. I wanted to travel to Ashdod via taxi. I found one available nearby. I entered it, unaware that many of the taxi drivers are Arabs. As we were seated, I realized, too late, that the driver’s name, printed on the side of the car, sounded suspiciously non-Jewish. The look he gave me only confirmed my suspicions that we were not traveling with an ally.
My heart was filled with fear. I had no idea what to do. The taxi drove along, preventing me from getting out. I began praying earnestly to Hashem that He give me advice. We raced along the Yerushalayim-Tel Aviv highway, while my heart raced within me.
Darkness descended, and we found ourselves the only travelers on this lonely road, late at night, with a malevolent driver. Suddenly, without forewarning or explanation, the driver stopped the car at the side of the road. Tremendous fear engulfed me. My mind raced with various options. What to do now? I wondered. Should I recite the Shema? Maybe I should take upon myself some sort of resolution? The fleshy form of the driver did not allow me to believe I could overpower him in any physical way.
As I sat in the back seat with my young daughter, trembling with fear, the driver made his way to the trunk. I turned my eyes once more heavenward, and said, “I came to visit the Holy Land and pray at the holy sites. I have a wife and small children at home. Please, Hashem, have mercy on me, and save us from the jaws of wickedness.”
The driver slammed shut the trunk, entered the taxi, and continued on to Ashdod, without so much as a word.
With great Heavenly kindness, we arrived at our destination.
Why did the driver stop mid-trip? What was he looking for in the trunk? Maybe he was seeking some sort of weapon. Why, then, did he change his mind? Only Hashem knows the answer to these questions.
I continuously thank Hashem for sparing us from the jaws of our enemies and all sorts of calamities on the road and enabling us to reach our destination in safety.
