Elijah the Prophet Took the Cellphone from the Arab

The following story is one of the most wondrous stories we have witnessed, exactly as we heard it from those involved. Although many of those who heard the story thought it was a case of "ribui ohr" (an overwhelming abundance of spiritual light) and that ordinary people lack the proper "keilim" (vessels) to contain it, since the name of this collection is "Pele Elyon" (Supreme Wonder), it is understood that the more wondrous and supreme a story is—higher than high—the more fitting it is to be included in its pages.

In truth, after previous volumes of "Pele Elyon" featured awesome and tremendous miraculous stories about the tzaddik (righteous one), the likes of which have not been seen since the days of the Baal Shem Tov until now, who are we to determine which story is more wondrous? Rather, we must strengthen ourselves in emunah (faith) in the tzaddik, for he is a wonder and his soul is a great wonder, a novelty the likes of which has never existed. He is a tzaddik of the upper realms and a tzaddik of the lower realms; "He fulfills the will of those who revere Him," and "the tzaddik decrees and Hashem fulfills."

Reb Yosef Gefner, may Hashem protect and sustain him, prays regularly in the prayer hall at the home of Morinu HaRav (our teacher, the Rav) Rabbi Berland shlit"a on Ido HaNavi Street in the Chomah Shlishit neighborhood. Reb Yosef makes an effort to stand near the tzaddik, and with every question that arises in his life, he asks the tzaddik and receives an answer from the "Urim V'Tumim" (Divine oracle) of our generation.

The following story took place on Monday of Parashat Vayishlach, 5779, during the Shacharit (morning) prayer. Reb Yosef sought to pass a question to Morinu HaRav and prepared a piece of paper in advance with the question written on it. He hoped the Rav would look at the note and instruct him on how to act in the matter. However, when he handed the note to Morinu HaRav, the Rav placed the note in his pocket after reading the question and did not give an answer.

Reb Yosef felt that azut d'kedushah (holy boldness) was required of him. Since the subject of the question was urgent for a specific course of action that very day, he typed the question into his cellphone and handed it to Morinu HaRav, hoping the Rav would recognize the urgency of the matter and provide an answer to his question. [It is worth noting that this was a "kosher" phone, utterly simple, which only had the option to type a few words in the reminder app.]

The Rav saw the question, and once again kept the "note" in his possession. However, this time, the note was none other than Reb Yosef's cellphone. Later on, Morinu HaRav did give Reb Yosef an answer to his question, but he did not return the cellphone, continuing to hold onto it throughout the entire prayer service. Naturally, Reb Yosef felt uncomfortable asking the Rav for the phone back, and he was happy that the Rav was guarding the phone for him in the meantime. "Perhaps phone calls are supposed to come from the bank or other stressful sources, and the Rav is sweetening the harsh judgments," he thought with relief.

After the prayer, the Rav entered his home with the cellphone still in his hand. Yosef asked one of the Rav's grandsons to go inside and ask for the cellphone back on his behalf. The grandson entered the Rav's house but came out a few minutes later, apologizing. He explained that it was impossible to retrieve the phone because Morinu HaRav had gone into his private room, presumably taking the device with him, and he could not disturb Morinu HaRav during his holy service and Torah study.

A few hours later, around 12:00 PM, Reb Yosef decided to call his cellphone from another device, hoping that one of the household members would answer and return the device to him. But there was no answer. A short time later, someone called back from Reb Yosef's device to the other phone he had used. Speaking with a heavy Arab accent, the caller claimed he had found the cellphone in a garbage can in his neighborhood, swearing repeatedly that he had not stolen it...

Reb Yosef was in shock from this turn of events. He could not understand how the cellphone had made its way from the Rav's pocket into the hands of an Arab from East Jerusalem. However, he figured that perhaps over the course of the morning, the phone had somehow rolled into the Arab's possession. After some negotiation with the Arab, and after the man agreed to return the lost item to its owner, the Arab stated that he wanted a "symbolic" payment of 200 shekels for his trouble.

Reb Yosef explained to him that the cellphone itself wasn't even worth that amount. The Arab agreed to lower the price of his theft, asking for "only" 150 shekels. After further arguing, the Arab agreed to compromise on 80 shekels, on the condition that Reb Yosef would personally come to the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood in the eastern part of the city to meet him.

For many long minutes, the Arab explained why there was absolutely no danger in coming to this "friendly" neighborhood, how much they love Jews, and how they host Jewish guests at all hours of the day—especially since the tomb of Shimon HaTzaddik was right near his house. But Reb Yosef suspected that the man's intentions were not good. The Arab insisted that if Reb Yosef did not come to Sheikh Jarrah, he would demand 150 shekels to return the phone, and they would have to meet by the main road.

Reb Yosef tried his luck again, telling him that he had no money and urgently needed the cellphone. But the Arab gave an answer that perfectly illustrates why the nations of the world refused to accept the Torah when they heard it says, "You shall not steal"... The Arab tried to explain to Reb Yosef that whoever has no money needs to steal, and that God blesses him for doing so. He even boasted about himself, saying that he steals on a regular basis in order to smoke, eat, and drink.

These conversations took place several times, a few minutes apart, with Reb Yosef calling back each time to try and get the Arab to lower the price. After a few attempts, the Arab realized that he probably wasn't going to get any money out of this Jew, and he stopped answering the phone. Reb Yosef called the telecommunications company and asked them to disconnect the line since his cellphone was lost. Thus, the saga of Reb Yosef's cellphone and the Arab from Sheikh Jarrah seemingly came to an end. But in truth, the story had only just begun.

Later, Reb Yosef arrived for the Minchah (afternoon) prayer at the prayer hall. Before the prayer, the mohel Reb Yosef Schorr and his brother Reb Mendel Gefner approached him. They told him that the Arab had called them as well, trying to sell them the cellphone he had found, since their names were saved in Reb Yosef's contacts.

When Morinu HaRav came out of his house for the Minchah prayer, Reb Yosef approached him and told the Rav how he had engaged in long conversations with an Arab from East Jerusalem. He explained that the cellphone had miraculously ended up in the Arab's hands and that he was trying to sell it back to him. Morinu HaRav pulled a 200-shekel bill from his pocket and told Reb Yosef, "Go buy the cellphone from him."

Reb Yosef told the Rav that he was afraid to go to the outskirts of the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood, because who knew what the Arab was planning for him, Rachmana litzlan (Heaven forbid). Morinu HaRav told him, "Then go to him tomorrow." [Presumably, Morinu HaRav understood from Reb Yosef's words that he was afraid to go because it was already dark, and therefore told him to go the next day when it was light.] Reb Yosef felt uncomfortable taking the money from the Rav and said it wasn't necessary, especially since the amount was more than the cellphone was worth. Morinu HaRav replied that he should buy a new cellphone, and the conversation on the matter ended there.

However, the moment the seemingly natural part of the story ended, the supernatural wonder began to unfold.

At eleven o'clock at night, Reb Yosef's brother, Reb Mendel Gefner, called and told Reb Yosef that he had the cellphone. He explained that he didn't know how it happened, but he had leaned against a wall and suddenly felt a heavy object in the pocket of his kapote (long Chassidic coat). It was his brother Reb Yosef's cellphone, and he quickly called to share the good news that the device was with him.

The next morning, on Tuesday during the Shacharit prayer, Reb Yosef approached and stood near Morinu HaRav. As soon as the Rav saw him, he asked, "Where is the cellphone? With the Arab?" Reb Yosef felt that the Rav was trying to hide a miracle here... Reb Yosef told the Rav the sequence of events and how, in a wondrous manner, the cellphone had transferred from the Arab to his brother's pocket. Morinu HaRav told him, "That was Eliyahu HaNavi (Elijah the Prophet)." In the Torah portion of the week, it says, "Vayashuvu hamalachim el Yaakov lemor" (And the messengers returned to Jacob, saying)—the letters of which can be rearranged to spell "Eliyahu"...

To verify the story, and to confirm the fact that the conversations with the Arab were real and not a figment of his or his brother's imagination, Reb Mendel Gefner called four people who appeared in the "recent calls" on the cellphone. All of them recounted that an Arab with a heavy accent had spoken to them and tried to sell them this cellphone he had found. Thus, the cellphone truly arrived in a wondrous manner from the hands of the Arab into the pocket of Reb Mendel's coat. The most logical way to explain this story is exactly as Morinu HaRav said: "Eliyahu HaNavi transferred the cellphone from the Arab to Reb Mendel's coat."

From the book "Pele Elyon Part 3"