The Lost Tefillin That Miraculously Found Their Way Home

I moved to Israel with a clear goal: to settle here, put down roots, and build a home. I was fortunate to marry and start a family, and I studied in one of the prominent kollelim. When the head of my kollel was preparing to travel abroad to raise funds for the institutions, he asked me to accompany him. As someone who had grown up abroad and spoke several languages at a native level, I could be useful to him. I sought advice and decided to go. I hoped to have the merit of helping support Torah learning.

I packed a small carry-on with several sefarim that I could study along the way, as well as two pairs of tefillin, one according to Rashi and one according to Rabbeinu Tam, which I make a point of putting on every day.

Our flight was headed to the United States, with a stopover in a European country. Once I had settled into my seat, I wanted to put on my Rabbeinu Tam tefillin. Sitting next to me was a man wearing a kippah, who turned out to be a very pleasant conversationalist. He asked me about the tefillin and then asked if he could put them on as well. We began talking about Rashi and Rabbeinu Tam tefillin, and the time passed pleasantly. He told me that he was a manager of one of El Al’s departments and was traveling to oversee a project the airline was currently developing.

Before we got off the plane and parted as friends, he took out a pen and piece of paper and wrote down his phone number. “In case you need it,” he said. I tucked the note away and hurried with my rabbi to catch our connecting flight to the United States.

As we made our way toward passport control, I suddenly stopped. Something was missing. I checked my belongings and realized that my carry-on was gone. And this was not just any bag. Everything precious to me was inside it: my halachic sefarim, my study books, and both pairs of tefillin.

Alarmed, the rabbi and I hurried back to try to find it. A formally dressed official with a cool European manner politely asked why we were trying to return to the area we had just left. I explained that I had lost an extremely important carry-on. Calmly, he told me there was a lost-and-found department and that I should check there. I approached one airport employee after another, but everyone sent me to the same place: lost and found.

What was I supposed to do? Our next flight was leaving soon. By the time my bag reached lost and found, if it ever did, I would have missed the flight.

That was when I remembered the note the El Al manager who had sat beside me had given me. I could hardly believe that I already needed his help. I called him and told him what had happened. He immediately threw himself into trying to help, making several calls and attempting different avenues, but unfortunately nothing worked.

I suggested that perhaps the bag would simply return to Israel on the plane’s return flight. He told me that this could not happen. There was a strict rule that every aircraft had to be thoroughly inspected to ensure that no belongings had been left behind. An item could not simply be flown back to the country of origin without its owner first being contacted and giving permission. If I wanted to find my bag, he explained, my efforts had to focus on the European airport, right then and there.

The rabbi traveling with me tried to reassure me. Surely, he said, they would contact me. After all, my name and phone number must be written inside the tefillin bag. The truth was that only a short time before the trip, a friend had noticed that the only identifying information on my tefillin bag was my embroidered initials. He suggested that I write down all my contact information and place it inside. At the time, I had not understood why it was so important, but I did it anyway.

Now I understood exactly why.

I went from one airport official to another and involved as many people as I could, but no one had any good news. The El Al manager promised that he would continue doing everything possible to help. Meanwhile, I had to hurry before the gate for our connecting flight closed. Worried and heartsick, I headed toward the gate, hoping that the manager, or anyone else, would somehow find my bag. At least my contact information was inside. If someone found it, they could reach me.

Arriving in America Without Tefillin

It was strange to arrive in the United States without my tefillin and without my sefarim, and then have to awkwardly ask someone different each day if I could borrow a pair of tefillin. There was another complication: I am left-handed, which means I need tefillin arranged appropriately for a left-handed person. These are not the standard tefillin that most people use. Finding another left-handed person willing to lend me his tefillin every day was not exactly easy.

Word of my situation spread through the local community. The rabbi decided to raise money so that I could purchase a new, beautiful pair of tefillin. I was deeply moved by the gesture. Tears came to my eyes. Mi k’amcha Yisrael, who is like Your people, Israel?

Still, I mourned the loss of my own tefillin. I hoped that at the very least the bag would somehow end up in Jewish hands, and I continued praying that perhaps one day it would return to me.

Throughout this period, I remained in contact with the El Al manager. He told me that he had continued trying, but it seemed we had reached a dead end. I thanked him sincerely for everything he had done. I had not told my wife what had happened because I did not want to upset her. But the rebbetzin, my rabbi’s wife, heard about it. In a beautiful gesture, she gathered her children every night before bed, and together they recited Tehillim that my precious bag should be found.

At the time, of course, I knew nothing about this. I was immersed in our intensive fundraising trip, with every minute being used to the fullest. We experienced tremendous siyata d’Shmaya, Divine assistance. The rabbi kept assuring me that my lost property would soon be found because shluchei mitzvah einan nizokin, those engaged in carrying out a mitzvah are protected from harm.

I told him that I hoped this painful loss would at least serve as an atonement and bring success to the real purpose of our journey: supporting Torah. And indeed, our success exceeded all expectations. We reached numerous communities, doors opened for us almost everywhere, and it seemed as though the hand of Hashem was guiding us at every step.

A Mysterious Call at Midnight

When I returned to Israel, I came home with a new pair of tefillin but without my familiar bag. My wife immediately noticed and asked what had happened. I had no choice but to tell her. Naturally, she was upset to hear what had happened, but she immediately turned her concern into prayer and Tehillim. Had I known earlier what her prayers could accomplish, perhaps I would have enlisted her help and told her sooner. Meanwhile, I also ordered a new pair of Rabbeinu Tam tefillin.

Then, one night, close to midnight, my phone rang. The number was blocked. I generally do not answer unidentified calls, but for some inexplicable reason, this time I did.

“Hello, I’m calling from El Al. Am I speaking with Yonatan Oren?” an unfamiliar woman asked.

For a moment, I was speechless. “Yes,” I answered. I assumed she wanted to ask about the service I had received or perhaps offer compensation for my missing carry-on.

“Did you lose a bag containing pairs of tefillin?” she asked.

I could feel my heart pounding. “Y-yes,” I answered, trembling.

“Listen,” she said, “I don’t usually do things like this, but this time, I don’t know why, I did something I normally wouldn’t do. Something in my heart told me to contact you. Something completely heavenly.”

Heavenly indeed.

“Are you calling from France?” I asked, wanting to make sure.

“No, of course not. I’m calling from Ben Gurion Airport.”

It made no sense. What about the rule I had been told about? How could my bag possibly have returned to Israel?

“You can come and collect the package right now,” she said, and explained exactly where my carry-on was waiting.

The Bag That Wasn’t Supposed to Be There

I did not delay. First thing in the morning, I headed to the airport, thanking Hashem for the tremendous kindness He had shown me. The moment I entered the lost-property department, I understood just how extraordinary the situation was. Hundreds of items were lying there. How had this woman noticed my particular bag among all of them?

I recognized it immediately.

Then I tried to find the employee who had called me. Every staff member I asked looked at me as though I were speaking nonsense. No one knew who had called me during the night. They told me that no one from the department had contacted me and that this was simply not something they did.

I insisted that a woman had called me. More than that, I explained that I had lost the bag on a flight to Europe. How could it possibly have returned to Israel? They thought I was imagining things.

“There’s no way that could happen,” they told me. “The procedure is uniform and extremely strict. Nothing is returned before arrangements are made with the owner. Perhaps you’re confusing the call you received then with what happened today.”

I realized that perhaps they were somewhat less familiar with Divine Providence and heavenly arrangements.

I immediately called my friend, the El Al manager, and told him that my lost bag had been found. I wondered whether perhaps he had somehow arranged for its return. He was astonished and delighted, but he repeatedly emphasized that he had absolutely nothing to do with it. He, too, found the entire story remarkable.

The Lesson Behind the Miracle

Suddenly I understood that Hashem had taught me an important lesson: “Do not put your trust in benefactors.” I had placed some of my hopes in this well-connected friend, believing that perhaps he would be the one to solve the problem. Yet in the end, everything unfolded through the prayers of my wife and the rabbi’s family. I have no doubt that the merit of their Tehillim stood by me.

Now I suddenly had two pairs of each type of tefillin: the new pair I had received abroad, the new Rabbeinu Tam pair I had ordered in Israel, and my two original pairs, which had miraculously returned to me.

I called the rabbi of the community abroad, told him that my tefillin had been found, and asked to return the pair they had purchased for me. He insisted that they had been given to me as a complete gift. Then I remembered something: the rabbi’s son would soon be celebrating his bar mitzvah, and he, too, was left-handed.

I immediately offered to send the new tefillin to his son, and that is exactly what we did.

Everything had fallen perfectly into place. When Hashem wants something to happen, He can send a direct flight, complete with a mysterious employee calling in the middle of the night. And when salvation comes, it can come very quickly, even at midnight.

May we merit to see the complete Redemption arrive just as swiftly, very soon.