Photo for illustration purposes only: Nozyk Synagogue, Warsaw Poland

I was inspired by this story I received from a friend. If anything is post worthy, this is it.

Editors Note: Based on the combination of Hebrew and Georgian dates, 8th Adar being February 17 this story took place in 2005.

A True story:

The brand new Rabbi and his wife were newly assigned to their first congregation to reopen a Shul (synagogue) in suburban Brooklyn. They arrived in early February excited about their opportunities. When they saw their Shul, it was very run down and needed much work. They set a goal to have everything done in time to have their first service on Purim (14th Adar, February 23). They worked hard, repairing aged pews, plastering walls, painting, etc, and on 8th of the Adar (February 17th) they were ahead of schedule and just about finished.

On February 19 a terrible snowstorm hit the area and lasted for two days. On the 21st, the Rabbi went over to the Shul. His heart sank when he saw that the roof had leaked, causing a large area of plaster about 20 feet by 8 feet to fall off the front wall of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit, beginning about head high. The Rabbi cleaned up the mess on the floor, and not knowing what else to do but postpone the opening ceremonies and headed home.

On his way home, he noticed that a local business was having a flea market type sale for charity, so he stopped in. One of the items was a beautiful, handmade, ivory colored, crocheted tablecloth with exquisite work, fine colors and a star of David embroidered right at the center. It was just the right size to cover the hole of the front wall. He bought it and headed back to the Shul.

By this time it had started to snow. An older woman running from the opposite direction was trying to catch the bus. She missed it. The Rabbi invited her to wait in the warm Shul for the next bus. 45 minutes later. She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the Rabbi while he got a ladder, hangers, etc., to put up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The Rabbi could hardly believe how beautiful it looked and it covered up the entire problem area.

The Rabbi then noticed the woman walking down the center aisle. Her face white like a sheet. “Rabbi,” she asked, “where did you get that tablecloth?” The Rabbi explained that he had just purchased it a charity flea market. The woman asked him to check the lower right corner to see if the initials, EBG were crocheted into it there. They were. These were the initials of the woman, and she had made this tablecloth 35 years before, in Poland. The woman could hardly believe it as the Rabbi told her how he had just gotten “The Tablecloth”.

The woman explained that before the war she and her husband were well-to-do people in Poland. When the Nazis came, she was forced to leave. Her husband was going to follow her the next week. He was captured, sent to a camp and she never saw her husband or her home again. The Rabbi wanted to give her the tablecloth; but she wanted the Rabbi keep it for the Shul. The Rabbi insisted on driving her home. That was the least he could do. She lived on the other side of Staten Island and was only in Brooklyn for the day for a housecleaning job.

What a wonderful service they had on Purim . The Shul was almost full. The Service was great. At the end of the service, the Rabbi and his wife greeted everyone at the door and many said that they would return.

One older man, whom the Rabbi recognized from the neighbourhood remained seated in one of the pews and stared. The Rabbi wondered why he wasn’t leaving. The man asked him where he got the tablecloth on the front wall because it was identical to one that his wife had made years ago when they lived in Poland before the war, he was wondering how there could be two tablecloths so much alike? He told the Rabbi how the Nazis came, he forced his wife to flee for her safety and he was supposed to follow her, but he was arrested and put in a camp. He never saw his wife or his home again.

The Rabbi asked him if he would allow him to take him for a little ride. They drove to Staten Island and to the same house where the Rabbi had taken the woman three days earlier. He helped the man climb the three flights of stairs to the woman’s apartment, knocked on the door and he saw the greatest Purim reunion he could ever imagine.

God does work in mysterious ways!

H/T Mark Young proprietor physicians4palin .com