Facing Danger, We Found Hashem’s Protection

“We left Bnei Brak before dawn, four yeshiva boys on our way to pray at the resting place of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai in Meron. It was the morning before Rosh Chodesh (the new Hebrew month), and we had planned a full day of tefillah and connection.

After finishing our prayers, we searched for a spot to have breakfast. On the map, we found a small park in the Galilee that seemed far from any Arab villages, so we headed there. The roads were quiet, even deserted at that early hour. Along the way, we saw a sign pointing to the kever (grave) of the holy sages Shemaya and Avtalion. We stopped briefly to daven (pray) there and ask for success in our Torah learning. Before leaving, one of us reminded the group to say Chapter 20 of Tehillim (Psalms) three times, a traditional prayer for protection on the road.

Back in the car, we followed the GPS instructions, but suddenly realized the road led straight through an Arab village that hadn’t appeared on the map. We slowed down to turn around at the entrance but just then, an Arab driver passed us and suddenly stopped his car right in front of us, blocking our path. He stuck his hand out the window and waved toward another car coming from the other direction. That second car stopped behind us, boxing us in.

We were trapped.

There were no other vehicles around. The road was empty. It was just us and the two cars, one in front, one behind. We froze. The two Arab drivers exchanged words and nervous hand motions. One of them stepped out of his car and started walking toward us. It was clear from his body language that he didn’t come in peace.

One of us began dialing the police, but we all knew deep down this could end, Heaven forbid, before anyone even picked up. We were terrified.

Then the miracle happened.

The driver in our group, calm and focused, put the car into reverse and sped backward for several dozen meters. Then he suddenly swerved and squeezed the car through the narrow space between the two vehicles just enough to escape. We drove away quickly, hearts pounding, constantly checking the rearview mirror to make sure we weren’t being followed.

After a few kilometers, we pulled into a small grove, still shaking. Two of us stepped out and burst into spontaneous song, lifting our voices in thanks to Hashem. The singing turned into dancing, full of relief and gratitude.

Later on, we flagged down a military jeep and shared what had happened. The soldiers immediately checked the area.

A rabbi later ruled that we should each recite the Birkat HaGomel blessing, thanking Hashem publicly for saving us from danger. He also suggested that we give a donation to a beit midrash (study hall), just like one would bring a korban todah a thankful offering, in the days of the Beit HaMikdash (Holy Temple).

Something unusual happened a bit later on the drive. We saw an Arab man driving past us with rubber gloves on his hands. Still shaken from our earlier experience, we worried he might be trying not to leave fingerprints. We reported it to the police, who quickly stopped the car and investigated.

In the end, it turned out he was just collecting bottles for recycling, and wore gloves because he rummages through garbage bins to do it. His car was full of empty bottles.

Even so, for us, the message was clear. Hashem had protected us in the moment we needed it most.

And we will never forget it.