Welcome to the daily chizuk (encouragement). Hashem sees every good deed that we do. Nothing goes unnoticed, and Hashem is ne'eman (faithful) to repay us. Of course, the reward for mitzvot (commandments) is primarily in the next world. But the Mishnah tells us that for certain mitzvot, Hashem gives us dividends in this world as well. One of those mitzvot is gemilut chasadim, doing acts of kindness. There’s a remarkable story in a book called Stories with a Twist by Nachman Seltzer that illustrates this concept.
It was wintertime in Israel, and some soldiers in the IDF were celebrating. Their platoon had almost finished its time, and they were excited to go back home. There was a special delivery of shawarma that evening, sent by one of the soldiers’ mothers, and they were all enjoying it. Meanwhile, one of the soldiers, Yoni Harel, was on duty that evening, patrolling the dark, deserted streets. He was petrified, walking through an area with Arab graffiti all over the place. But he remained on the course he had set out to patrol.
About a hundred feet away, there was a young Arab on top of a mosque, disguised as an old man with a beard. He had a rifle poking out through a small window. He was a sharpshooter, and he knew he would have one opportunity to hit the soldier. He pulled the trigger and hit the soldier right where he wanted to. Yoni Harel fell to the floor, and the Arab came down and disappeared into the night.
Back at the barracks, a boy named Doron was getting very claustrophobic at the party. He needed to go. As he was walking, he turned a corner and tripped on the wounded soldier. He quickly called the base’s emergency line. He ripped off a piece of his shirt and wrapped it tightly around the wound. The ambulance came, and Doron ran back to the base. He took off his bloody shirt, changed his clothing, and never told anyone there what happened.
Yoni, the wounded soldier, made a recovery in the hospital, and his parents were inquiring about the one who saved him. There were a few platoons in the city, and there was no way of finding out. But Yoni’s parents desperately wanted to know, so they hung up a sign in the grocery store they owned in Kiryat Malachi with the date and details of the story, hoping someone would know some information.
A whole year later, a lady came into that grocery store and told the woman owner behind the counter, “I just traveled for a whole hour to talk to you.” Before the owner had a chance to say anything, the woman noticed the sign. There was a sign hanging on the wall. She said, “I think that story was my son.” Yes, it was a year ago. He came home from the army base and told me the entire story.
She called her son Doron and said, “I’m here at a grocery store, and there’s a sign on the wall. Where did you find that wounded soldier?” Her son Doron said, “Next to that mosque.” And Yoni’s mother heard every word. She said, “Yes, that’s where our son was.” “Wow, your son was the one who saved my son’s life. We want to come see him and thank him.”
And then the woman said, “Wait, you said you came an hour to see me. What did you want to tell me?” She said, “I don’t know if you remember, but 20 years ago, I came into your store. I was passing through the city and had just stopped off for a drink. I was very troubled, and you were able to see it on my face. You made me feel so comfortable, and I told you my problem. I said, ‘I was pregnant, and my husband and I had so much stress over the child, worrying about our financial situation. We were just getting by with our family as it was, and we couldn’t imagine supporting another addition. I was getting weak and sick, and the doctor said I was at risk. They told me not to continue with the pregnancy, but I wasn’t sure what to do.’
“You immediately brought me to your house. You gave me some hot coffee and cake. You sat me down. We talked for a long time until I was convinced to keep the baby. I was so happy when he was born. I called him Doron.” She continued, but the rest of what she said was unclear.