Watching so many years in advance, Hashem smiled and said, “Keep learning, David. I’ll take care of everything”

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bout a month ago, when David, a member of the kollel's Oraisa program, entered the Cincinnati Community Kollel, it was clear to the rosh kollel, Rabbi Chaim Heinemann, that something was wrong. David’s usual cheerful demeanor was absent, replaced by a very uncharacteristic glumness.

“David, what’s wrong?” Rabbi Heinemann asked. David responded with the grim news that he’d been let go from his job. “I have enough money saved up to last me until August,” he said, “but if I don’t have a job by August, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Rabbi Heinemann offered words of encouragement, along with a warm brachah. Of course, he also made efforts to raise funds on David’s behalf. The days passed and David grew tense; he hadn’t yet found a new job and his modest reserve was slowly depleting. One day he turned to Rabbi Heinemann. “Rabbi, what can I do? What can I do to merit salvation?” Rabbi Heinemann thought for a moment.

“Well,” he said, “davening always helps. But how about this. You don’t have a job now, so you have more time on your hands. How about you spend an extra hour each day learning in the kollel?” David nodded, amenable to the challenge.

Each day, he’d leave the maelstrom of his job search to bask in the blissful waters of Torah. One evening, he arrived at the kollel, smiling from ear to ear.

“David!” Rabbi Heinemann exclaimed, “You found a job?!” David shook his head.

“Nope. You’re not gonna believe what happened, Rabbi.” And he proceeded to share the following tale.

“Ten years ago, I was in New York and a friend of mine gave me a ride after Maariv. He was speeding and the police pulled us over. The police then searched the car and sure enough, found narcotics. I had no idea that my friend was involved in that sort of thing, but that didn’t help me. We were both booked and had our mug shots taken before being placed in prison. All this time I was pleading with them, explaining that it wasn’t my car and I had no connection with the narcotics. Finally, after two days locked up, I was released.

“About three years ago,” David continued, “I got an email informing me that I was identified as a potential member of a class action suit called Clark et al. versus City of New York and that if I wanted to join the suit I should supply my signature. I didn’t think twice about it — I just signed and moved on.”

Clark et al. versus City of New York was a case that began in 2018 when two Muslim women were arrested and forced to remove their hijabs for the mug shot. They filed a class action suit including some 3,600 class members who experienced forced head covering removal between March 16, 2014, and August 23, 2021. Attorneys working on the case came across the mug shots of David and noted that in one picture he was wearing a kippah, but in a subsequent one, he was not. Assuming that the police forced him to remove it, they included him in the suit.

“Now,” David broke into a grin, “I received word that I will be receiving a minimum of $7,824 and possibly much more than that. And the money will be coming in on August 7!”

A decade ago, David surely experienced his arrest as a real low. Being told to remove his kippah only added searing insult to injury.

Little could he have imagined that right in his moment of distress, Hashem was orchestrating a much-needed paycheck for him, a decade into the future.

And no doubt the blessing, at least in part, came in the merit of that added hour of Torah study.

Watching so many years in advance, Hashem smiled and said, “Keep learning, David. I’ll take care of everything.”

The Lens

When long-time Camp HASC director Mr. Shmiel Kahn welcomed Rav Yaakov Bender to Camp HASC this week, the Rosh Yeshivah wasted no time: “Please bentsh me!”

Reb Shmiel demurred. “I should bentsh the Rosh Yeshivah? I ask you for a brachah!” But the Rosh Yeshivah was adamant. “You have the achrayus and the zechus of carrying all these campers, plus their families!”

As a Kohein — and son of the legendary Camp HASC founders Rabbi Max and Blanche Kahn, Mr. Kahn replied humbly, “nu, zechus avos,” and placed his hands on the rosh yeshivah’s head, offering him a Bircas Kohanim.

Soul Stop

On a sleepy stretch of Route 52 that roars to life each summer, the Nikolsburger Rebbe, Rav Mordechai Jungreis — the guiding force behind “Klal Yisrael’s Shul” in Woodbourne — becomes the most regal traffic director Sullivan County has ever seen. Yes, he serves as the rav, but he also tends to the needs of each and every Yid who walks through the doors — even if that means stepping into the road to ease the backup of minivans waiting to stop in for a tefillah, a brachah… or a few quiet moments of uplift.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1072)