This week (Parshas Taharah 5776) I had an opportunity to experience Hashgocho Protis on a Protis-dige level.
With the approach of Pesach, the menfolk are at a loss when it comes to supper. They can’t afford being chased out of their kitchen, by the housewife who’s valiantly trying to create a Pesach-Kosher space in her fiefdom. On the other hand, it’s strange to eat supper in a restaurant on your own… As with all social dilemmas – us Yidden found the ideal solution: from Rosh Chodesh Nissan until the eve of Bedikas Chometz, one can attend a charity reception (parlor meeting in US English) each and every night of the week.
It so happens that out of all the very important receptions, there is one which I couldn’t not go to and I found myself partaking in a hot supper that would put any gourmet chef to shame. The problem only occurred to me when I started to leave the venue; I haven’t had a chance to prepare some Ma’aser money before coming, as (didn’t I hint to this before?) I hadn’t been home yet.
I was about to take out my credit card, knowing that there was still some money on it – even after paying for the pre-Pesach shopping – and then I met him. “Him” is one of my acquaintances who owed me money for a job that I did for him last year. I noticed that he had a fifty pound note in his hand, so I assumed that he prepared to donate for the charitable cause. He tells me that it’s now the first opportunity that he has the money ready for me since the time that he promised to pay me.
I stood there speechless; how this money arrived with such precision can only be described in two words: