The Man in the Field: The Story That had No Ending

This is a story of hashgacha pratis

One that started in the most happenstance way

And never ended ‘til this very day

There were two young boys living in Arizona. They had come home from yeshiva in NY to enjoy Pesach break. It was the second day of Yom Tov. The Seder was that night and the two boys were sitting around with nothing much to do. “Let’s go to the old-age home. You know, give out matzos and hagaddas. Just like we did with the Rabbi’s brother over Succos one year.” One of them suggested. “Great idea!” the other responded enthusiastically, “We can get matzah from the rabbi, and our parents have plenty of extra hagaddas.” They gathered everything they needed and set off on the two and a half mile trek to the old-age home.

That day was a classic Arizona scorcher. The dessert sun beat down mercilessly on the two boys as they walked on losing buckets of sweat. They could see the heat rising off the pavement before them distorting the images in the distance. Even the very cacti seemed to wither in this heat. Cicadas buzzed relentlessly from amidst the mesquite trees and an occasional cruel dry wind would blow in their faces. They walked on.

They finally arrived at the old age home. Only two miles but it felt like six. They opened the door and were greeted by the most hospitable cool air. Ahhhhh, to finally find safety from the Arizona sun. They went up to the receptionist, an old lady herself, and told her the reason of their visit. “It’s our Passover holiday and we’re here to give out matzah and hagaddas to all the Jewish people here.” The lady looked at them blankly, “I’m sorry but you can’t do that.” Shocked the boys answered back, “Why not? We’ve done this sort of thing before. It’ll be really quick. We wont cause any trouble. This isn’t our first time here you know.” The lady, pitiless, simply excused, “No I cannot allow you in. You’ll offend the non-Jewish residents. What you need to do is call in before hand and set up an appointment.” “But that’s not what we did last time! They let us right in! And what about when you guys have Christmas and Easter stuff? Doesn’t that offend the Jews? We walked all this way!” “I don’t know what you did last time. This is what you’re supposed to do every time.” She answered coldly.

Beset with the weight of disappointment, the two boys plopped down in the waiting room and treated themselves to cool cups of water. They had no choice but to head back home. They arose and reentered the oven of whence they just came.

It was so hot, and they little else to do, that the boys decided to take a small detour. They decided they would go a little out of their way to a park that had shady trees, grass, and a pond with ducks. Then they would cut back to the road and continue home. The park was a good idea. It was cool, shaded, and they played around and chased the ducks a bit. They reached the end of the park and it was time to cut back over to the intersection they needed to go.

They decided, in order to shorten their trip at least a little bit, to beeline to the intersection through a large field that was in between. In the middle of the field was a man flying a remote-control airplane. He had just landed his craft and appeared to either be packing up to leave or getting another vehicle to command the skies. The two boys avoided him to give him some space when suddenly they heard, “Gut Yom Tov!” They whirled around in surprise. What? “Gut Yom Tov! It’s so odd seeing you two here. Where are you coming from?” Delighted the two boys explained what had happened, “But wait,” They said, “Are you having a Seder with your family tonight? We have plenty of hagaddas and matzah that you can take.” The man smiled with glee, “That would be amazing! Thank you so much!” and the man proceeded to take matzah and hagaddas for his family. The two boys spoke a little about Pesach and being Jewish, told him where the Chabad house was, when services were, and invited him to come. The man said he would check it out. The boys marveled at the planes for a bit and continued on their way.

That Shobbos the boys waited in anticipation for the man-from-the-field, as he had been titled when they told the community what happened, to show up, but he never did. All well. However, the next Shobbos, right before they were to go back to NY, he did show up! The community already knew who he was thanks to the boys and came over to greet him warmly. The boys as well came over to speak to him a bit. The man was taken aback by the warmth and welcome he received in this small community. Soon after, the boys left to finish the year in NY.

When they returned, the man was still there! He had been coming regularly and felt bad he had to drive on Shobbos to get to shul. Lo-and-behold, a few months later him, his wife, and children all move right in, quite a good sized bunch. He put his kids in the local Jewish day school, came to shul on Shobbos, and came to all the events. Instantly they had become part of the warm community in the middle of the Sonora Dessert.

As they learned more, and became more frum, they made an unfortunate discovery; there was an issue with how their parents had converted or something similar to that, the young boys were never sure. Either way, it was discovered that up until this point, they had only thought they were Jewish. They needed to convert. They called the Beis Din and were met with opposition and frustration.

The school year started again. The two young boys parted ways. One decided to complete school in Arizona while the other returned to NY. The young boy who went back to NY would participate when the bochurim told stories of mivtzoim and hashgacha pratis by saying his, but he could never finish it. His story really had no end. Every time he had to leave it off in uncertainty and frustration.

It remained that way for years

The young boy completed his schooling and adventures in NY and decided to continue in a far away land. There too, the bochurim would gather round to tell their tales of mivtzoim and hashgacha pratis, and there too the young boy would tell his, and there too he could not end it, and would leave them off with the inconclusive ‘to be continued’.

One day he spoke to his mother. He asked what she had been doing that day. His father had gone to Virginia to visit his grandfather who was having surgery. His brother had gone back to NY to follow in his older sibling’s footsteps. It was just his mother and the dog back home. “I’m looking for a sheitle for Mrs ____. They’re having their chassana this Lag B”omer.” “Chassana?” “Oh that’s right. You didn’t know. They completed their conversion recently!” He paused, soaking in the news he just received. Then he allowed a smile to form on his face and leaned back with a sense of soft satisfaction. Finally

After all these years

The young boy, now a young man, was able to say

The End