All ordinary events are acts of Hashem and all are extraordinary

“And Yaakov send messengers ahead of him to his brother Eisav…” (Bereishis 32:4)

Rashi says that the messengers he sent were actually angels. Rav Moshe Feinstein (in Darash Moshe) asks, why would Yaakov perform a miracle here? Miracles aren’t performed without purpose. Furthermore, Yaakov was worried that he’d used up all his merits due to the miracles already performed for him. If so, why use even more merits by sending angels? (Rabbi Yisroel Reisman, Shiurim on Chumash)

Eight o’clock in the morning does not usually find me dressed in a sheitel and in shul. But when it’s the bris of a close friend, exceptions are happily made. Especially when said close friend had been on bed rest for most of this pregnancy with serious complications that threatened both her life and that of her unborn baby. The last two months had been spent in the hospital, and the fact that she’d just delivered a normal healthy baby at term was cause for celebration.

“It’s a miracle.” I heard the whispers of awe as the cluster of women gathered around this precious new baby. Dina looked pale, but her eyes shone with emotion and her smile stretched across her wan face. “Incredible, isn’t it?” She stroked a finger gently on the soft velvety down of the baby’s cheek.

There wasn’t a dry eye on the women’s side as we heard the words, “V’ykareh shmo b’Yisrael: Nissim Chaim.”

A miracle life indeed.

Rav Moshe answers with a fundamental point. To someone on the proper spiritual level, an outright neis is not a bigger miracle than everyday nature. A tzaddik views every act of Hashem as miraculous, even something that appears mundane. When you are on that level, the concept of miracles takes on a different dimension.

Rav Chanina ben Dosa (Taanis 25a) told his daughter to light candles using vinegar. “The G-d that says oil can burn, can say that vinegar can burn as well,” he told her. And miraculously the vinegar ignited. Because in Rav Chanina ben Dosa’s world, oil or vinegar burning would be the same miracle; both result directly from the Hand of Hashem.

I was on a high when I returned home. Shrieks of laughter and loud music reached me before I even stepped over the threshold.

Avi and Binyamin, who had just come back from shul, were dancing some complicated kezatzke with their davening jackets and hats as twirling props. Had I missed an invitation to an impromptu, early morning chasunah?

Shloime spotted me first and ran to meet me, his face smeared with cocoa. A telltale brown trail led me to the kitchen, where apparently Yitzi was making the whole family chocolate milk for breakfast. Yitzi himself was barely recognizable, as he was covered from head to toe in cocoa. There was a river of milk dripping slowly off the counter and pooling on the floor.

I was quickly slammed back down to planet earth. I began to restore some semblance of order to the madhouse. “Binayamin, turn down that music. I can’t hear myself think. Avi, hang up your jacket, and put away your tefillin before they become chocolate covered. Yitzi, who decided chocolate milk was on the breakfast menu? Shloime, don’t touch the wall with those han— too late.”

This yesod is of extraordinary importance. If we truly understand that everything Hashem does is a neis, then we’d see Yad Hashem in everything in life. This is life. We’re constantly seeking miraculous acts, hoping to see Hashem’s involvement. But if we open our eyes, we can realize that all ordinary events are acts of Hashem and all are extraordinary.

A half hour later some semblance of stability was restored, the floor mopped, faces scrubbed, and everyone was dutifully eating the cut fruit and milk that had been my breakfast choice.

I looked around the table. Yitzi was squirming a bit in his chair. Avi looked hesitant. I glanced at their faces, each hoping they were still in my good graces, each so precious and delicious to me. Was it any wonder I loved each one to pieces?

“Let’s make chocolate chip cookies after breakfast!” I suggested. What better way to spend a bright early morning?

Soon the kitchen was again hopping, music playing (softly) in the background, and faces grinning with cookie glee. My miracles live. Every day.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 720)