The Short Vort by Rabbi Eisenman

Baruch was exhausted as he arrived at the Gare du Nord in Paris after his almost five-hour train ride from Marseille.

The Gare du Nord is the busiest railway station in Europe, handling over 700,000 passengers a day.

As Baruch exited into the mass of faceless commuters, he saw the station clock read 9:15 PM.

He had not eaten all day, nor had he slept the night before.

It was Sunday evening, June 15^, and Baruch had no idea where he would be spending the night.

He had been visiting relatives in Marseille for a few days and had booked a flight back to Israel for Friday, June 13, planning to return home to Yerushalayim for Parshas BeHalosecha.

The El Al flight would land before three, leaving him ample time to make it home from Ben Gurion Airport.

However, Hashem had other plans for Baruch, and at 2 AM on Friday, the Tzeva Adom (Red Alert) app began buzzing, awakening him from his sleep.

He would soon learn that there would be no flight to Tel Aviv that morning, and he would have to stay in Marseille for Shabbos; Israel was at war, and no planes were flying.

By Motzei Shabbos, with the war continuing, Israeli airspace was closed indefinitely.

With no chance of returning to Israel soon, Baruch decided to visit his elderly father in New York.

This required him to travel by train to Paris to facilitate a non-stop flight to New York.

The train from Marseille to Paris required two transfers and many hours.

In his state of confusion, with his plans upended, he had failed to reserve a place to stay in Paris for Sunday night.

Upon exiting the huge train station, he took a cab to a kosher restaurant, davening to Hashem to help him find lodgings and hoping someone at the Kosher establishment would be his Hashem-sent Shaliach.

After eating his first meal of the day, he inquired about the availability of a hotel room from the staff at the restaurant.

One of the servers told him about a modest hotel about ten minutes from the eatery.

Baruch departed with a map drawn on a napkin; yet, as exhaustion set in, he soon realized he was lost in Paris with nowhere to sleep.

Saying Tehillim by heart for his family in Israel and for himself in Paris, he allowed himself to cry.

He was three thousand miles away from home, his wife and children were huddled in the safe room in Yerushalayim, and he was wandering around Paris with his beard, peyos, and black hat, with nowhere to go.

Feeling hopeless,  Baruch leaned against a lamp post as a light rain began to fall.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

In the darkness, he noticed a young, muscular man with a Mediterranean complexion.

Baruch reeled, expecting the worst.

“Shalom chaver,” the voice said.

Baruch recognized the voice and face; it was the waiter from the restaurant.

“I called the hotel, and they told me no one resembling you came in, so I realized you were lost. So, I came out to look for you.”

Baruch was stunned. This waiter, who barely spoke English and whom he had met just minutes before, went out of his way on a rainy Sunday night to find him.

Still in shock, Baruch began to thank the young man again and again.

As they headed together to the hotel, Baruch, still in a state of disbelief,  asked his newfound friend, “What made you call the hotel to inquire about me? You don’t even know me!”

In his own state of disbelief, the young man answered, “What do you mean, I don’t know you? You are a Jew, and I am a Jew. What more is there to know?”