We all read about how the passengers were put up in 70 hotel rooms that were hastily booked for them, and about the valiant Chabad shluchim, Rabbi Mendel and Rebbetzin Nechama Hendel, who rose to the occasion with mesirus nefesh, making sure the last-minute guests had complete Shabbos meals, as well as a sefer Torah, siddurim, and Chumashim, and even wine and besamim for Havdalah. We heard about the inspiration the passengers drew from making Shabbos with their fellow stranded Jews, which turned out to be an uplifting experience, bringing together people who seemingly had little in common but were united by their emunah.

But do we know the real story?

Behind all the individual human dramas, and behind the amazing story of the Chabad couple and their nimble staff, there was another story, which journalist Yedidya Meir wrote about in his popular weekly column:

“Rabbi David Derli of Tiveria [who was among the diverted passengers] had heard from the Hendels about the mikveh they were building in Athens, but the project had been stalled due to lack of funds. They needed tens of thousands of dollars. What could be done? Very simple. At Shacharis, Derli announced that all proceeds from the sale of aliyos would go to the mikveh fund. He himself purchased maftir for a large sum. And so, within a few minutes, tens of thousands of dollars were raised. Perhaps El Al’s CEO should be invited to affix the mezuzah, because after all, if the company hadn’t messed up so badly on that flight, who knows if the mikveh would ever be built?”

And that is the real story: a Divine Hand that diverted that flight, among other things we might never know, in order to build a mikveh in Athens. In fact, this insight is at the core of this week’s parshas Vayeishev. The pasuk (Bereishis 37:15) tells us that Yosef was straying in the fields, “and a man found him.” That “man” shows him the way to where his brothers are pasturing the flocks, and we are all familiar with the narrative that follows when they see him coming. But the Ramban explains why the Torah takes the trouble, before that dramatic episode, to interpose the seemingly trivial detail that Yosef, sent by his father to find out how his brothers were faring, strayed off course and met a stranger who gave him directions:

“Scripture elaborated on this detail… to make known to us that Hashem’s decree is truth and human striving is false. For HaKadosh Baruch Hu caused him to encounter this guide, which was not what he expected, to bring him into their hands. [That is, to bring Yosef into the hands of his brothers, so that they would sell him, thinking they were shattering his dreams of kingship, and in fact set into motion the descent to Egypt.]”

I remember an incident that took place about 35 years ago. (Rabbi Hanoch Teller recounted a version of it in his book on Hashgachah pratis, and readers might recognize this true story thanks to Shmuel Kunda’s memorable Where’s Zaidy? tape.) A few days before Rosh Hashanah, a chassidic Jew set out from New York to Amsterdam on a KLM flight, planning to continue his journey by train to Antwerp, where he would spend the Yamim Noraim with his rebbe, the renowned Rebbe Itzikel of Pshevorsk. En route, the chassid fell into a deep sleep, and was still in dreamland when the plane landed in Amsterdam and let off the passengers who were disembarking there. By the time he woke up, the plane was already in the sky again. He had no clue that he’d missed his landing until he noticed new passengers occupying some of the seats around him. He asked a flight attendant what was going on and was told that these were the people who’d boarded at Amsterdam, while he was sleeping. This was the flight to Bangkok, they told him.

Bangkok? Frantically, he started considering his options. It would be too late to get a flight back to Europe by the time they landed there. How would he ever make Yom Tov in Bangkok?

Was the plane making any more stops before Bangkok? Yes, the flight attendant replied, there would be a brief stop in Beirut.

Beirut? That was even worse! That was when the PLO controlled Beirut, and it was well known that every plane that landed had to pass the terrorists’ inspection. With the chassid’s obviously Jewish appearance, the cabin crew understood his anxiety, and before landing they found a place to hide him. The PLO agents made their inspection, the chassid went undetected, and he remained safely on board until the plane finally reached its destination — Bangkok.

What now? Were there even any Jews in this city? Well, there are Jews everywhere. But frum Jews? And even if there were a few, how was he supposed to find them?

Well, he could only try. He got hold of a phone book and started searching for any name that looked Jewish. He found a family named Levy, called them, and to his good fortune, it turned out that they were religious and happy to help. The chassid spent Rosh Hashanah with the local Jewish community, no doubt blaming himself for missing his big opportunity to spend the holy days with the Rebbe by allowing sleep to overcome him.

But how did the story end? He managed to persuade two young men in Bangkok to go to Ohr Somayach in Jerusalem, and he arranged for rabbanim from Israel to help the Jewish community there to make crucial repairs to their mikveh. Sleep had overcome him en route to Amsterdam in order to awaken two Jewish souls and to ensure that their community had a kosher mikveh.

Permit me to share another story showing how a Jew is led exactly to where he’s meant to be, somewhere altogether different from where he thought he was going.

Sometime between the two world wars, two talmidei chachamim from Yeshivas Mir — one of them was Rav Zeidel Siemiatycki — were traveling by train. Somehow, they failed to get off at their intended station. It was a short winter Friday, and Rav Zeidel’s colleague was worried.

Rav Zeidel reassured him with the words, “A Yid farblonjet nisht — A Jew is never wandering aimlessly. He is always being guided.”

They got off at the next stop and since their foremost concern was to avoid chillul Shabbos, they hurried toward the nearest shtetl, where they met a Jew on his way to the beis medrash. He kindly brought them back to his house, and his hospitality was generous, but they noticed that something was worrying him. He then revealed that his wife had given birth to a son the previous Shabbos. He had invited a mohel from the city to spend Shabbos with him and perform the bris, but the mohel hadn’t showed up.

Rav Zeidel’s face lit up. “It so happens that I am a mohel!” he said. “My friend here can be sandek, and now we know why HaKadosh Baruch Hu brought us here for Shabbos!”

Turning to his friend, he added, “See? A Yid farblonjet nisht.”

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 737)