Bullets and Miracles
Shir Zohar was at the Nova festival when the terrorists struck. She and her friend Esther ran for their lives under a storm of bullets, jumped into their car and sped away as gunfire shattered the windows and blew out the tyres. Somehow, they emerged unscathed. Miracle 1.
Standing at the side of the road, they saw more terrorists approaching – when out of nowhere, a van pulled up. The driver, Ori, shouted for them to jump in. He sped off with them in the back. Miracle 2.
Terrorists on motorcycles suddenly pulled up alongside and opened fire again. One bullet skimmed Ori’s head, two more hit his arm and foot. The van flipped three times. Shir came to first. Esther’s back was broken. Ori lay still. Somehow they had survived. Miracle 3.
As Ori started to come to, they whispered for him to stay quiet, but delirious, he smiled and turned up the radio. Within seconds, terrorists arrived and, alas, shot him at point-blank range. Inexplicably, they never noticed the two girls in the back. Miracle 4.
Eventually, Shir escaped for help, and Esther was rescued too.
On Sukkot, Shir stood at Mill Hill Shul and told her story:
“I never believed in G-d before that day. But miracle after miracle happened to me. I know I’m here for a reason.”
But the story doesn’t end there:
After shul, Shir walked home with us for lunch in the sukkah. I asked how she copes with the trauma. She said, amongst other things, she’d been to the Rebbe’s Ohel in New York – and then added quietly, “I wish I had a dollar from the Rebbe.”
My wife and I exchanged a look. There was no way she could know – but we had Rebbe dollars. We told her, “We have one for you.” She was overwhelmed and speechless, overcome with emotion.
But the story doesn’t end there:
Apart from the numerous dollars at home that we were privileged to receive from the Rebbe, in my office are several Kuntreisim – booklets the Rebbe gave us over the years, each sealed in plastic, each with a dollar inside, each with a different title. After Yom Tov, I went to take one. I didn’t choose – it was random. I hadn’t touched them in over thirty years. I pulled one out and opened it. Inside were two dollars. And the title on the front?
“Boruch She’asa Nisim” – Blessed is He Who Makes Miracles.
A photocopy of that booklet and one of those dollars now belong to Shir.
Because some stories don’t just speak of miracles. They are miracles.
May she – and we all – continue to see miracles.
