He turned in the darkness to find himself face-to-face with a muscular young man with a Mediterranean complexion

Baruch was exhausted when he arrived at the Gare du Nord in Paris — the busiest railway station in Europe, handling over 700,000 passengers daily — after his almost-five-hour train ride from Marseille.

As Baruch exited into the mass of faceless commuters, he saw the station clock read 9:15 p.m.

He had not eaten all day, nor had he slept the night before. It was Sunday evening, June 15, and Baruch had no idea where he would be spending the night.

He had been visiting relatives in Marseille for a few days and had booked a flight back to Israel for Friday, June 13, planning to return home to Yerushalayim for parshas B’haalosecha. The El Al flight would land before 3 p.m., leaving him ample time to make it home from Ben-Gurion Airport.

However, Hashem had other plans for Baruch, and at 2 a.m. on Friday, the Homefront Command app began buzzing tzeva adom (red alert), awakening him from his sleep.

He would soon learn that there would be no flight to Tel Aviv that morning, and he would have to stay in Marseille for Shabbos; Israel was at war, and no planes were flying. By Motzaei Shabbos, with the war continuing, Israeli airspace was closed indefinitely.

With no chance of returning to Israel soon, Baruch decided to visit his elderly father in New York. This required him to travel by train to Paris to catch a nonstop transatlantic flight.

The train from Marseille to Paris required two transfers and many hours. In his state of confusion, with his plans upended, he had failed to reserve a place to stay in Paris for Sunday night.

Upon exiting the huge train station, he took a cab to a kosher restaurant, davening to Hashem to help him find lodgings and hoping someone at this Jewish-owned establishment would be his Hashem-sent shaliach.

After eating his first meal of the day, he inquired about the availability of a hotel room from the staff at the restaurant. One of the servers told him about a modest hotel about ten minutes from the eatery.

Baruch departed with a map drawn on a napkin, but as exhaustion set in, he soon realized he was lost in Paris with nowhere to sleep. Saying Tehillim by heart for his family in Israel and for himself in Paris, he allowed himself to cry.

He was 3,000 miles away from home, his wife and children were huddled in the safe room in Yerushalayim, and he was wandering around Paris with his beard, peyos, and black hat, with nowhere to go. Feeling hopeless, Baruch leaned against a lamppost as a light rain began to fall.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He turned in the darkness to find himself face-to-face with a muscular young man with a Mediterranean complexion.

Baruch reeled, expecting the worst.

“Shalom, chaver,” said the young man.

Baruch suddenly recognized the voice and face; it was the waiter from the restaurant.

“I called the hotel and they told me no one resembling you came in, so I realized you were lost. I came out to look for you.”

Baruch was stunned. This waiter, who barely spoke English and whom he had only met moments before, had gone out of his way on a rainy Sunday night to find him.

Still in shock, Baruch began to thank the young man again and again.

As they headed together to the hotel, Baruch still in a state of disbelief, asked his newfound friend, “What made you call the hotel to inquire about me? You don’t even know me.”

Now in disbelief himself, the young man answered, “What do you mean I don’t know you? You’re a Jew, and I’m a Jew. What more is there to know?”

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1071)