A crowded hat store. An overwhelmed employee. One surprising decision that reveals a powerful lesson in emunah.
What does a line at a store have to do with your relationship with Hashem?

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L’illui nishmas Al Greenberg — אברהם שמשון בן יהודה יוסף ז״ל, whose shloshim falls this Shabbos. He lived with a deep and unwavering belief in אין עוד מלבדו, recognizing Hashem’s hand in every aspect of his life and expressing gratitude to Him each day. May his legacy of emunah and gratitude continue to inspire all who knew him.

Parshas Vayeira 5787

We are all waiting for something. We have needs, unanswered questions, and hopes that have yet to become reality. We yearn to see Hashem’s hand and experience the yeshuos we need.

Avraham Avinu and Sarah Imeinu knew that feeling all too well. (Bereishis 18:15)

וַתְּכַחֵשׁ שָׂרָה לֵאמֹר לֹא צָחַקְתִּי כִּי יָרֵאָה וַיֹּאמֶר לֹא כִּי צָחָקְתְּ

Sarah lied, saying, “I did not laugh,” for she was frightened. Came the reply, “You did laugh.”

Hashem had promised Avraham that his descendants would be as numerous as the stars. Yet Avraham was approaching one hundred years of age, and Sarah was nearly ninety. Having a child seemed physically impossible.

So when three malachim, Michael, Gavriel, and Refael, who appeared as ordinary Arab travelers, arrived at Avraham’s tent and announced that Sarah would give birth to a son, Sarah laughed. She said, “What do you mean? I’m already an old lady, and my husband is an old man!”

Hashem wasn’t happy with this. Hashem said to Avraham, “Why did your wife laugh?”

There was a ta’anah against Sarah. How could she laugh? Did she think Hashem was limited? Did she not recognize that Hashem is the Kol Yachol, that He can do anything? Is anything beyond Hashem’s capabilities?

And then Sarah responded, “I didn’t laugh.” There was a back-and-forth between them.

THE RAMBAN’S QUESTION

But the Ramban asks a simple, powerful question: Why was Sarah held accountable? She did not know these visitors were malachim. As far as she knew, they were ordinary strangers. Why should she believe their extraordinary prediction?

Imagine your mailman telling you that ten million dollars will arrive in your mailbox tomorrow. Of course, Hashem can make that happen. But must you believe every unbelievable promise someone makes?

The Ramban answers with a profound yesod:

והקב״ה האשים אותה לאברהם, למה היה הדבר נמנע בעיניה, וראוי לה שתאמין או שתאמר “אמן כן יעשה ה׳”

Sarah was not expected to believe three strangers. She was expected to recognize that nothing is impossible for Hashem. Rather than laugh, she could have said, “Amen, may Hashem make it happen.”

Think about that distinction. Sarah did not have to accept their words as fact. But she should not have treated them as beyond the realm of possibility. A simple Amen would have acknowledged that Hashem’s power is not limited by the way the world appears to function.

THE POWER OF A SIMPLE AMEN

Rav Chatzkel Levenstein, in Ohr Yechezkel (Emunah, p. 14), develops this idea:

כי חובת המאמין להאמין שאין דבר נבצר מהקב״ה לעשות

A believer must recognize that nothing is beyond Hashem’s ability. Even a birkas hedyot, a blessing from ordinary people, deserves an Amen. That Amen expresses efsher taka: perhaps, just perhaps, Hashem will make it happen. We need not be certain of the outcome, but we should remain open to the possibility.

Rav Chatzkel continues:

כי המאמין חייב לידע ולהכיר שאין חוק וטבע בבריאה והכל נעשה על פי רצון ה׳ ואין שום מציאות לסיבות בעולם.

The laws of nature have no independent power. Everything happens according to Hashem’s will. What we call causes and circumstances are merely the means through which He runs His world. They do not determine what is possible. Only Hashem does.

Our world seems governed by cause and effect. When the necessary conditions are missing, we assume the outcome is impossible. Rav Chatzkel teaches us that this is precisely where emunah must shape our thinking.

Sarah’s laughter suggested that her circumstances made having a child impossible. Her Amen would have acknowledged that Hashem could fulfill those words, however unlikely they seemed.

ARE WE STANDING IN LINE?

A few days before Succos, I found myself at Borsalino, waiting to have my hat fixed. Anyone who has visited a hat store during the Erev Yom Tov rush knows the scene. The store was packed. Customers waited in long lines, phones rang incessantly, and employees struggled to keep up.

I noticed a new employee behind the counter, visibly overwhelmed. Should he serve the customers waiting in front of him or answer the phone?

The manager approached and told him to prioritize the calls while continuing to help the customers in the store. With customers waiting impatiently, the instruction seemed counterintuitive.

The employee was puzzled. Why should the people calling take priority over those who had been waiting so long?

The manager explained something that changed my life:

The people standing in line know we’re here. They can see us working, they know we’re busy, and although they may have to wait, they know someone will eventually help them. But the people calling on the phone have no such assurance. If nobody answers, they may assume we’re unavailable, hang up, and take their business elsewhere.

I stood there thinking about those two groups. Both were waiting for the same service. But one knew someone was there, while the other wondered whether anyone was listening. And I realized how closely this speaks to the Ramban’s lesson.

Throughout life, we wait for things that matter deeply. One person is waiting for a shidduch, another for children, another for parnassah, and another for relief from a difficulty that has lasted years. We daven, make our hishtadlus, and hope for a yeshuah. Yet sometimes, nothing seems to change.

The question is not simply whether we believe Hashem can help us. The question is whether we still recognize His presence when we cannot see any results.
Are we standing in line, or are we waiting on the phone?

A person standing in line does not know how long the wait will be, but he knows the store is operating. Someone is there. The caller, hearing only unanswered rings, may begin to wonder whether anyone is listening.

Sarah Imeinu did not have to know that the travelers’ promise would come true. But she was expected to leave room for the possibility that Hashem was at work, even through the most unlikely circumstances. Her Amen would have expressed that recognition. Not a promise that everything would happen as she wished, but an acknowledgment that she could not rule out what Hashem might do.

HASHEM IS ALWAYS THERE

And so it is with us. After repeated disappointments, we may begin to assume that because nothing has changed until now, nothing ever will. But the Ramban reminds us that the circumstances we see do not determine what Hashem can do.
The fact that we cannot see a solution does not mean Hashem has no solution. The fact that our tefillos have not yet been answered as we hoped does not mean they have gone unheard.

Dovid HaMelech teaches us (Tehillim 55:23):

השלך על ה׳ יהבך והוא יכלכלך.

“Cast your burden upon Hashem, and He will sustain you.”

We are not promised that every difficulty will disappear or that every tefillah will be answered exactly as we envision. Emunah does not tell us what tomorrow will bring. It reminds us Hashem is present, even when we cannot see how.

We do not have to pretend the uncertainty is easy, or convince ourselves that every opportunity will work out. But we can refuse to let our circumstances define the limits of what Hashem can do. The very opportunity that seems unlikely may become the means through which He brings our yeshuah.

And even if we are still standing in line, we can still say:

אמן כן יעשה ה.