A few weeks ago we held a beautiful Hachnasat Sefer Torah to honor the new Torah scroll being dedicated to our shul. Hundreds of people came out to celebrate, starting at our home where the final letters were written, and continuing with a parade and dancing at the shul.
When I came back home after the all-day affair, I found an Apple watch that had been left behind. I put it aside, figuring the owner would quickly realize and contact me. I tried examining it for any identification, but there was none.
So I waited for the call.
But the next day no one called, nor the day after or the day after that!
How strange. Why hadn’t the owner called me? I couldn’t understand it.
I looked back at pictures of the event, trying to figure out who could have left it. Before the parade, hundreds of people flowed through our home to drink a l’chaim and write a letter in the Torah. I asked them all to put on tefillin with me, to add to the mitzvah of the day, which helped narrow the field: it was most likely a male who had taken off his watch to put on tefillin.
I scoured the pictures for anyone who had put on tefillin and started calling around, asking if they were missing a watch. But everyone I spoke to said no, it wasn’t theirs.
I became obsessed with the hunt.
And just then, I began studying Talmud with my 10-year-old. Interestingly, the first topic any child learns is the second chapter of Bava Metziah, which deals with hashavat aveida - the mitzvah of returning lost objects. The Talmud delves into different scenarios, including times when you can assume that the owner has despaired of ever finding the article and you can therefore keep it.
Based on my knowledge of this watch, it was certainly not something that the owner had despaired of finding!
I was determined to find the owner because it could not be that by doing a mitzvah (putting on tefillin) he would lose his expensive watch.
I posted on social media and texted everyone I could think of, “Did anyone lose their Apple watch?” but nothing! No response. Nada.
I was perplexed.
Then this past Sunday, after services, I began saying a dvar Torah addressing the concept of lost items, and I mentioned having found a watch. Immediately, Adrian came over and told me he’d lost his watch 30 days ago; is it the one I found? I asked him to tell me the colors and he easily identified it.
Turns out, Adrian is not on social media. But he had been searching high and low for his Apple watch! He couldn’t remember where he'd misplaced it, but he’d spent a lot of money on it, and had been desperately looking anywhere he could think of—his entire house, his car, workplace, outside, etc. He was literally on the verge of despair and now, boom! He’d found it. He was ecstatic, as was I!
There are three things that come unexpectedly, says the Talmud. Moshiach, a lost object, and a scorpion.
As Jews, we are all “lost” in a sense. Our souls are divine, spiritual entities lost in the physical, mundane world—the daily grind. We go from our coffee to the office and back again. Totally lost. But when Moshiach comes, we’ll all be found and returned. Our focus will shift to enjoying Divine spiritual pursuits and we will have no distractions from what really matters. And it will come when we least expect it!
Let’s hope Moshiach comes now and bring us all home!
Shabbat Shalom
Rabbi Uriel Vigler