Journeys of the Soul

When a Jew is tested, he needs to remember that G-d is watching out for him and arranges every event with a purpose. I had such an experience early on in my teshuva journey in which I perceived G-d watching over me and my grandmother.

I started to become observant at the beginning of my sophomore year at Emory University in Atlanta. By the beginning of my junior year I was already keeping Shabbat.

In March 1998 towards the end of my junior year, my 75-year old grandmother Isabel Gros flew down from New York to visit me for a week. She has always been the epitome of good health, the kind of grandmother that you have to run to keep up with. A few days before coming, she had a routine checkup with her cardiologist in New York. He found a very small amount of blockage in her arteries, but said it was nothing to worry about and gave her a clean bill of health to fly.

My grandmother arrived in Atlanta on a Friday. The following Wednesday afternoon in the middle of her trip, she began experiencing severe chest pains. She went to Emory University Hospital’s ER. She knew very little about the hospital, and chose it mostly because it was close to her grandson.

Tests in the hospital found that her arteries were over 90% blocked. Somehow her doctor back in New York had completely misdiagnosed her. Additional tests showed that she needed an immediate angioplasty procedure to clear the blockage and a coronary stent to be inserted to keep the arteries open. As it turns out Emory Hospital is a leader in the procedures she needed. The first coronary stent procedure in America was performed at Emory in 1987, so the hospital has more experience than most, and especially more than her doctors back home.

The procedures were scheduled for Friday morning, but were pushed backed several times during the day. She finally went into the surgery ward on Friday afternoon. That evening I attended the Friday night Shabbat services on campus as usual, had a quick meal in my dorm room and then walked to the hospital to wait for her to be released from Recovery. (In another sign of G-d’s beneficent hand, my dorm, Harris Hall, was located next door to the hospital).

It was already after nightfall. All of the entrances to the hospital were closed except for one. Directly inside the door a burly, African-American security guard was sitting at desk with a sign that read, “After 6:00 PM All Visitors Must Sign In.”

My mind began racing. How could I explain to the security guard that I couldn’t sign in? I had been keeping Shabbat for less than a year, but I knew I could not bend for this. Giving in and signing my name would have been an easy way out, but I would not do it.

But what could I tell the guard? I figured he was from Alabama or somewhere else in the Deep South. He had probably never met a Jew in his life, and almost certainly would never have heard of an Orthodox Jew. How could I say that because the sun had set I could no longer write? In my mind’s eye he was going to either slam the door in my face or call the psychiatric department. I needed to find a solution, but had no idea what it would be.

After several minutes standing outside the door pondering what to do, I nervously entered and walked up to the guard.

“Hi, my name is Michael Gros and my grandmother Isabel Gros had surgery today and I’m here to visit her,” I blurted out as fast as I could, hoping not to sound too anxious. “I’m an Orthodox Jew. On the Jewish Sabbath from Friday evening until nightfall on Saturday night we don’t use electricity, write or drive. Therefore unfortunately I can’t sign in.”

The guard paused for what seemed like an hour, though it was really only a tenth of a second. Then a huge smile erupted on his face.

“Oh, the sunset thing. I’m from Brooklyn. I know all about it. Go right in.”

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The hand of G-d has always been apparent to me throughout the story. At every step of the way He arranged the events to make sure my grandmother received the finest care possible. Then when I faced my test measuring my commitment to Shabbat, He sent the perfect emissary to assist me. How else could this security guard just happen to have been from Brooklyn, just happen to know about Shabbat, and just happen to be at the hospital that night? The chain of events was too perfect to be coincidental.

But if G-d was going to arrange the events to help me get into the hospital that night, why did He need to test me at all? He could have orchestrated the events in some other fashion so I wouldn’t have had to endure the pressure of the moment.

As the Rabbis write, “If one comes to purify himself, he is helped” (Shabbat 104a). Rashi, the fundamental Torah commentator, explains that if a person sincerely tries to change his behavior he receives help from Heaven. A person must first put in genuine effort, and then G-d sends him assistance. On that Friday night G-d waited to see my level of commitment to Shabbat, and then sent assistance to help me complete the mission.

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Michael Gros is the Chief Operating Officer of the Jewish outreach organization The Atlanta Scholars Kollel. The Teshuva Journey is a monthly column chronicling amazing teshuva journeys and inspiring kiruv tales. To share a story or send other comments, email michaelgros@gmail.com. To receive the column via email or see back issues, visit http://www.michaelgros.com

(published in The Jewish Press January 2007)