Do you remember when you got your driver’s license? Maybe you knew all the road signs, you’d taken practice written tests, and you were pretty sure you would do well on the written part. What was nerve-wracking was the actual driving part. You’d be driving with someone you probably never met before, had no idea what temperament he might have, or what he would ask you to do. Would you get lucky and just have to do a K-turn in a parking lot or would you have to parallel park on a crowded street? Would he deduct points if you moved your hands from the wheel or perhaps had them at 3 and 9 instead of 10 and 2? What about when you have to pull into traffic and you’re not sure whether it’s better to wait for five minutes until there are no cars coming or if you should try to pull out quickly by hitting the gas? There’s no way of knowing what your license examiner will want to see.
Well, today I’m talking about a driving test I had recently. One morning I got a text message from a single mom I know. She doesn’t have much family in the area and she doesn’t have a car. “My daughter missed the bus and I really need a ride for her. Can you help?”
Ouch. As much as I wanted to help, I hadn’t even davened yet, and would not be done at shul for over an hour. My father had just discussed with me that it’s OK to say no when you really can’t do something, so I texted her back that I apologized but couldn’t help.
But then, as I was getting dressed, a thought kept playing in my mind. I had recently listened to a shiur which touched on the topic of widows and orphans. R’ Moshe Meir Weiss pointed out that the woman’s husband need not be deceased for her to be a widow. If she’s divorced, or if her husband is uncaring or abusive, she’s like a living almana. As long as she doesn’t have someone to turn to, she’s like a widow. The same goes for kids. If they can’t speak to their parents or count on them for support and encouragement, they are like orphans.
I toyed with the idea of driving the child to school instead of going to shul. I tried to estimate how long it would take me and if I could find a different minyan afterwards. Then I hit upon an idea. I texted Raphi Ziegler, a friend in Monsey who runs Emunah Car Service. I asked him how much it would cost to take the girl from her home to school and he gave me a price. I asked if they could take her and I would pay for it. He explained that his drivers would not lay out the money for someone as they are independent drivers who work for themselves. I laid out the facts—single mom, no car, kid missing school—and I offered to bring the money to his office. A few moments later he replied, “No problem. I arranged it; all she has to do is call us.”
Excitedly, I texted the woman that I had a ride for her daughter, she just had to call Emunah. She replied by saying that she had a ride to take her to a doctor’s appointment and had given that up to drive her daughter to school. Now she needed to get to the doctor’s office herself.
Reeling from the change of plans, I texted Raphi again with the update. “No worries,” he replied. “I’ll alert the dispatcher.” By now, 35 minutes had elapsed since the woman first texted me and I was finally able to tell her, “Just call this number; your ride has been arranged.” I was so glad that I had found a solution for her. That’s why her response threw me for a loop.
“Thanks anyway. Someone just offered me a ride in five minutes.” What? I was going to skip shul to drive her kid; then I was going to pay a car service to take her. Then I took advantage of a friendship to change the destination and now she didn’t even need my help?!
The truth hit me like a Mack truck. I was never supposed to drive her child, and HaShem never intended me to actually have a car service get her. It was a test to see if I’d be WILLING to help her. In a sense, it was a driving test, to see what motivates me and what I’d be driven to do to help another Jew. It was a test of my putting into practice what I’d learned, and I hope that I passed the test. (It’s still tricky because even though I know generally what the Examiner wanted to see, I can’t be 100% sure of the specific moment.)
I recall a story of a Rav who was asked a shayla about a business deal that seemed fishy. He told the fellow that it did not seem proper, and the man had to grapple with himself a while before he decided to give up a large potential windfall and do the right thing. A few weeks later, he came to the Rav to tell him the deal had fallen through. Not because he dropped out, but because the whole thing would never have been able to get off the ground. In essence, the Rav pointed out, the whole deal was orchestrated to test this man’s mettle, and he passed.
Sometimes in life we have situations which come about and, for one reason or another, things don’t work out as we imagined. We could think of these as failures. Better yet, though, we can view the matter as a test, and reflect on whether we think we’ve passed or need to go back and try again. The nice thing about this Examiner, however, is that He gave us a Book that has all the answers. We just need to follow it.
Jonathan Gewirtz is a freelance writer whose work has appeared in publications around the world. He also operates JewishSpeechWriter.com, where you can order a custom-made speech for your next special occasion. © 2014 by Jonathan Gewirtz. All rights reserved.
By Rabbi Jonathan Gewirtz
