"The inheritance shall be apportioned… according to lot.” (Bamidbar 26:56)

 Rashi comments on the choice of words in the pasuk “al pi hagoral — according to lot.” Since “al pi” literally means according to the mouth, Rashi explains that the lot itself spoke out with words — meaning, it had been endowed with ruach hakodesh. Yehoshua reiterated this as well in Sefer Yehoshua (19:50): “According to the word of Hashem, they gave him the city…” (Rav Shimshon Pincus, Tiferes Shimshon)

Despite the heat, I couldn’t suppress a shiver of excitement. “This is it!” I whispered to my husband.

“Shh —we want him to come down in price.”

I glanced around the empty rooms, filled with drywall buckets and paint rollers. Yet my eyes saw polished floors, our dining table already set against the stunning background view of the hills outside the window.

My husband was deep in discussion with the realtor about pesky details, but I hugged my dreams to myself. This was our future home. The details would work out.

Days later our offer was accepted. We were moving! Leaving our rental of ten years, with its dangling exposed light bulbs and worn floor tile! Going to a gorgeous penthouse that would be a real home! Finally!

Viewing it superficially, drawing lots seems to leave the outcome to chance; after all, an answer will always be picked seemingly at random. A person may therefore complain about the results of a lottery, saying that this specific lot emerged only coincidentally.

Each shevet wanted a choice portion. Therefore, there needed to be a clear decision by Hashem Himself defining each inheritance. That’s why Rashi’s distinction is important; all the shevatim needed to realize that the lot was really an expression of Hashem’s actions.

“The bank’s making issues.” My husband sounded drained one hot afternoon, a week later. “They’re not approving the mortgage.”

“What’s not to approve? It’s all in order.”

“I don’t know.” He leaned wearily against the cracked counter in the kitchen. “They’re dragging their feet and the broker doesn’t know why. So don’t get your hopes up. This may not go through.”

Don’t get my hopes up? In my mind I was already hanging pictures on imaginary walls! No point in telling me to be realistic. I’d even enrolled the kids in their new schools. This had to work out!

But days dragged and tension increased.

“That’s it. File closed. We’re not taking this one to the bank.” My husband hung up the phone and silence descended.

The worn dingy walls seemed to close in on me. We wouldn’t be moving after all.

We can learn the same lesson from the two goats of the Yom Kippur service. One is sacrificed to Hashem, while one is thrown off a cliff to azazel. The Kohein himself couldn’t decide which goat to throw — only Hashem could, and so it was decided by lot.

We see the same concept in Sefer Yehoshua (chapter 7), when a lottery determined that Achan was the person who had taken from the spoils of Yericho, a forbidden act. Achan, the perpetrator, complained that obviously someone’s name would emerge guilty when using lots!

Yehoshua answered him (7:19): “My son, give honor to Hashem [and confess the truth].” Don’t disparage the concept of lots, he told him, because the lot is really the word of Hashem.

Although a lot’s outcome may appear to be coincidence, it is actually the direct word of Hashem.

Thankfully I didn’t have long to mope. Two months later we found another apartment. This time the mortgage sailed through. No, it wasn’t a penthouse, but it had a huge garden. And it wasn’t in the city we’d chosen, but the city seemed to be choosing us.

“It’s almost the anniversary of when we moved here,” my daughter said this week.

“We didn’t move here. We always lived here!” Yitzi splashed in the kiddie pool, his face flushed with heat.

“You always lived here, but we moved here! It’s almost 15 years, right, Ma?”

I glanced around, at the kiddie pool set up on the patio, the neighbor’s kids jostling my own. At solid friendships and roots that went deep down like the cherry trees I’d planted in the garden.

How could I have thought we’d live anywhere else? This is where we were meant to be. I could bank on that.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 599)