“Abba, this will be the best afikomen present I ever had. Four hours alone with you!”

This war has taken a toll on the Jewish people of Eretz Yisrael.

The loss of the precious neshamos of those murdered on Simchas Torah, the brave soldiers who have given their lives al kiddush Hashem, and the ongoing nightmare of the hostages — an open, festering wound for their families, friends, and Am Yisrael, as we constantly daven for their safe return — are just some of the painful sacrifices.

Yet during these eight months of the war, there have also been many difficulties faced by simple people in their daily quest to support their families.

Shlomo Tal* is one of those.

Shlomo is a local caterer in Yerushalayim who carved out a niche specializing in providing delicious home-cooked meals for chareidi Jews visiting Eretz Yisrael. He also catered Shabbos meals for families from the US spending Shabbos in rented villas and tzimmers.

Unfortunately, his business has been almost nonexistent since the war began, as tourism has dried up and far fewer families are visiting.

You can imagine his joy and feeling of Hashgachah pratis when, one recent Thursday, he received a call from a well-to-do askan from America asking him to cater Shabbos for 40 people in honor of his grandson’s Shabbos bris.

“I know it’s last minute,” the proud grandfather said. “However, I don’t want you to spare any expense. This is my first grandson, so I want everything perfect!”

Shlomo could not believe his good mazel. Catering three full meals for 40 people, and everything must be the best. This would cover many of the unpaid bills piling up.

He thanked Hashem profusely, and although he only had 24 hours to pull it all together, he was confident that by working through Thursday night and all day Friday, he could accomplish the task with a great amount of siyata d’Shmaya.

He told his wife the good news at seven that evening.

She told him to say good night to the kids and get to work in his kitchen.

As he approached his 12-year-old son, Meir, the boy smiled and said, “Good night, Abba. I can’t wait to go with you to Kever Rochel tomorrow. I’m so happy I asked for that for my afikomen present. It will be just the two of us, davening at Kever Rochel without anyone else!”

Shlomo’s face paled.

How had he forgotten his promise on Seder night to take Meir on Rosh Chodesh Sivan — a special day for davening, this year on Friday — to Kever Rochel?

As he was about to tell Meir that they’d have to change their plans, he noticed the white shirt and clean pants Meir had set aside for the next day. He looked into his son’s eyes and saw the anticipation, joy, and yearning the boy possessed for the much-anticipated outing.

“Abba, this will be the best afikomen present I ever had. Four hours alone with you!”

Shlomo kissed his son good night, left the room, opened his phone, and called his now about-to-be-former client.

Yet all did not go smoothly. The man was very persuasive and forceful. “Reb Shlomo, I know it was last minute, so I’ll pay you double whatever your price would have been. What’s the issue? You need the parnassah, don’t you? I just need you to supply the food.”

“Yes, I do… however—”

As Shlomo sat down that Shabbos to make Kiddush, his son Meir announced in their two-bedroom apartment, “Hashem gave us the best Abba in the world. I davened for the entire family today at Kever Rochel. It was the best day of my life.”

As the words reached Shlomo’s ears, tears rolled down his cheeks.

He realized then that he was more privileged to be the beneficiary of the greatest siyata d’Shmaya than all the money in the world could have given him. —

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1017)