There Are No Coincidences

As we approach the latter parshiyot of Sefer Vayikra, Leviticus, it is worthwhile to pause and reflect. Those of us who are immersed in Torah and emunah shleimah, full faith in Hashem, know that He is in control and nothing happens by happenstance.

Sefer Vayikra makes this abundantly clear. The very first word Vayikra is written with a small aleph at the end. Chazal tell us this is because Moshe Rabbeinu, who was writing the Torah according to Hashem’s dictation, and being so incredibly humble, wanted to minimize his role. He wanted the record of Hashem’s call to him to say vayikar and not vayikra, as if he just happened to stumble upon Hashem’s revelation without being called to the task by Hashem Himself.

Chazal compare this to the prophetic ability of the evil Bilaam, who shared prophetic powers on par with Moshe. The difference was that Bilaam fell into his prophetic relationship with Hashem (vayikar) and couldn’t call upon Him. Moshe, on the other hand, was chosen by Hashem at the sneh, the burning bush, to speak with Him panim el panim, face to face. Nothing random about it. Despite Moshe’s protests of humility, Hashem would have none of it, so they compromised and he wrote “Vayikra,” and Hashem called out to Moshe with a small aleph at the end, as if it said “Vayikar.” As if Hashem “chanced” upon Moshe. But the reason why Hashem insisted that the word Vayikra be written clearly was to show his love for Moshe, to show how He chose him, and also to demonstrate that nothing is random, nothing is by chance.

That point was brought home to me in a very understated but dramatic way several weeks ago in Israel. There’s a new museum in Jerusalem, the museum of the First Knesset, located at the original site of the Knesset on Keren Hayesod Street in Jerusalem. Most of us are familiar with the iconic Knesset building located in the Givat Ram neighborhood, but that one wasn’t built until 1966. From 1950 to 1966 the original Knesset was housed in a modest building known as the Froumine House at 24 Keren Hayesod. The museum is charming, interactive, suitable for adults and kids, and a delightful way to spend a couple of hours to learn about Israel’s history and legislative process.

But that’s not the point of this column.

Our young and exuberant English-speaking guide Ariana started the tour by exhibiting a copy of Israel’s Declaration of Independence, founded on basic principles of Jewish peoplehood and history, equality, Democratic values, and civil liberties. She displayed the signatories of the Declaration, and like John Hancock centuries earlier, she highlighted one name in particular. This was Chaim Moshe Shapira. He was a leader of the religious Zionist movement, initially Mizrachi and later the National Religious Party (Mafdal), the forerunner of today’s religious Zionist parties in the government. From all accounts, he served ably as a minister of multiple departments in multiple Israeli governments from 1950 to 1970, when he passed away. Yet sadly, that is not his only claim to fame.

As I learned from my visit to the museum, in 1957, a deranged and disgruntled Jew threw a live grenade into the Knesset chamber, where all the Knesset members were having their plenary session in a botched attempt to assassinate Ben Gurion, Israel’s first prime minister. This was in the same building where this museum is now housed. The grenade injured several members of the Knesset, including Ben Gurion, but the most severely injured was Chaim Moshe Shapira. After months of treatment and therapy, he did return to government and was never the same again. He passed away 13 years later. The perpetrator, a mentally ill man named Moshe Dwek, later apologized to Shapira in 1958, which Shapira graciously accepted.

How many of us, good Zionists and lovers of Israel, know about this crazy story? I certainly didn’t before I went to this museum. But that’s still not the point of this story.

Fast forward to October 7, 2023. We’ve all heard stories of horror and heroism, tragedy and triumph. I’ve been reading a book in Hebrew titled Or Ein-Sof, meaning Light Without End. The subtitle is Tales of Heroism During the Iron Swords War. It profiles selected victims of the unholy terror unleashed on that fateful day at the Nova Festival as well as murdered hostages and soldiers who fell fighting in Gaza.

The first profile is of a young man who was at the Nova Festival that Shemini Atzeret-Shabbos morning. A religious young man, he’d gone off the derech or as he would say, he’d found a different derech. But his heart remained as full as ever, caring for his fellow Jew, always determined to be the “defender and protector.” On the morning of October 7, as the rockets flew from Gaza and drug-fueled Hamas terrorists descended upon the dazed festival revelers, bullets and blood flying everywhere, this young man led a small group to a roadside shelter. The road would later be called the “road of death” because of the wholesale slaughter that would take place there. But at that point they thought they’d be safe, especially after he assured them that he was a lochem, a fighter of the Nahal Brigade, and all would be b’seder.

When the grenades started coming, lobbed into the shelter by the terrorists, with no concern for his own welfare, the young man calculated that he could pick up a grenade and toss it out before it exploded. Seven times he picked up with his own hands grenades that the terrorists had tossed in, intending to kill everyone, and seven times he tossed them out. The eighth grenade came too quickly and the brave young man was fatally struck. This account is confirmed by seven individuals who said their lives were saved by this young man. One of them was his best friend, Hersh Goldberg-Polin, who had his arm blown off, but survived to be taken hostage for 328 days, only to be murdered as Israeli forces closed in to rescue him.

And who was this brave young man? 

Aner Shapira, the great-grandson of Chaim Moshe Shapira.

Bound by genetics, blood, and two grenades, one that struck his great-grandfather, prominent signatory of Israel’s Declaration of Independence, severely injuring him, and another that took the life of Aner, who selflessly defended his friends from a ruthless enemy.

I cannot begin to fathom Hashem’s ways or reasons. But I know this was not a coincidence. We humans, especially Jews, try to understand why things happen, to find meaning in seemingly random events, but nothing is random. While one can never be certain, perhaps the acts of Aner were a tikkun for the brazen act of hatred committed against his great-grandfather 66 years earlier. We know all Jews are connected and responsible for each other—areivim. And the way we show up for each other is not coincidental, but intentional, with Hashem’s intervention. This is how Aner lived and died. May his memory be a blessing.

Just take a trip to Israel or pick up a copy of Or Ein-Sof to find out.

Shabbat Shalom. 

Dr. Alan A. Mazurek is a retired neurologist, living in Great Neck, Jerusalem and Florida. He is a former chairman of the ZOA.