The Detour

A couple of days ago, I was on my way home from work. I usually leave around 7:00 p.m. For whatever reason, there was tremendous traffic and all the buses were delayed. In Jerusalem that sometimes happens because of protests or random city chaos, but this time there did not seem to be any clear reason at all.

After waiting close to 20 minutes, the number 69 bus finally came. It is the bus that goes most directly toward where I live. But when it pulled up, it was absolutely packed.

I looked at it and thought, “You know what? It’s been a long day. I’ll wait a few more minutes for the 25 bus. It takes a slightly longer route through Pisgat Ze’ev, but maybe at least I’ll be able to sit.”

A few minutes later, the 25 came.

Packed too.

At that point I was annoyed at myself for waiting, but I got on anyway because I did not want to wait any longer.

The traffic was still crawling. The bus was crowded, noisy, and there was a baby crying in the background the whole ride. At one point I called home and said, “I can’t handle this anymore. Do you mind if I just get off and walk home?” From where I was, it was about a half hour walk.

A family member told me, “Sure. I’m actually stopping at a store on the way, so maybe we’ll meet up for a few minutes.”
So I got off the bus and started walking.

As I was walking down Rechov Ravitz in Pisgat Ze’ev, I suddenly saw a הכנסת ספר תורה (Hachnasat Sefer Torah) — a celebration escorting a new Torah scroll into a synagogue.

A friend of mine had recently told me he was donating a Sefer Torah to a newer shul nearby that still needed one. And somehow, at the exact moment I was passing by, the procession was just arriving at the shul.

I went over to say mazel tov, figuring I would stay for a minute or two and then continue walking.

But as soon as my friend saw me, he pulled me under the chuppah they were carrying over the Sefer Torah and handed me the Torah to carry for a few moments toward the shul.

To escort a Sefer Torah into a new בית כנסת (Beit Knesset, synagogue) is a tremendous mitzvah. To actually hold the Torah is something deeply holy and special.

Right after I handed it back, I noticed I had missed a call.

I called back and was told that a family member had fallen down an entire flight of stairs.

Baruch Hashem, they were okay.

I was told, “As soon as I fell, I checked myself to make sure everything was still working and nothing was broken. I’m sore and bruised, but it could have been much worse.”

And I said, “You’re not going to believe this…”

I told them the whole story.
How I never take that bus.
How I never walk home from there.
How there just happened to be a Hachnasat Sefer Torah exactly where I got off.
How at the exact time they fell, I was holding the Sefer Torah.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the shemirah (protection).

Sometimes life looks random.

Traffic.
Delays.
Crowded buses.
A last minute decision to get off and walk.

But every once in a while, Hashem lets you glimpse that there may have been much more going on beneath the surface.
Most of us spend a lot of life frustrated by the “detours.”

The delayed bus.
The interruption.
The inconvenience.

But maybe some of those detours are actually where the hashgacha, divine protection is hiding.

Maybe the thing delaying you is also protecting you.

Maybe the interruption is guiding you somewhere you were meant to be.

And maybe part of emunah, faith is learning to pay a little more attention to the moments that seem random, but are not random at all.