Baruch Hashem! I Lost a $70,000 Deal

by a CH Yungerman

That’s right — I lost a deal worth $70,000. Not because I uncovered some scandalous activity, nor because it was replaced by a sudden windfall. No, I simply lost it. After three weeks of hard work, the deal came down to the wire, and forces beyond my control caused it to fall through.

This experience brought to mind a story about a chassid of the Rebbe Rashab, Reb Shmuel Gurary. He was a lumber dealer and was once offered a forest at a steep price, with talk of a new railroad that would boost demand for lumber. As was his custom, Reb Shmuel sought the Rebbe’s advice, who told him to go ahead and buy the forest. But when the railroad project was canceled, Reb Shmuel was left with a worthless forest and a mountain of debt. When asked what happened afterward, Reb Shmuel replied, “Nothing. I am still struggling to feed my family and repay my debts. The miracle is that my relationship with the Rebbe is not dependent on his wonder-working powers. I continue to follow his directives in every area of my life because I am his chassid.”

Unlike Reb Shmuel, Baruch Hashem, I am still able to support my family. But the true brocha in this experience is that I didn’t take the loss personally. Yes, I tried my best, and yes, I put in the effort, but Hashem had other plans. It took years to learn not to feel hurt by losing a client or a deal, but today, when I lost this deal, I finally reached a place of acceptance.

This morning, I told my wife that I planned to close a $70,000 deal — small potatoes for some, but for me, it was a big deal. I was feeling confident, especially since just a few days earlier, I had given more tzedakah than usual, even though I wasn’t particularly in the mood. I thought that surely this would bring success. After all, in Tishrei, I was asked to help support an organization and, through a misunderstanding, ended up committing way more than I intended. That mistake had opened the gates of hatzlacha in the following months. Just last week, I spoke with a friend, a shliach, about the importance of emuna and how he gives tzedakah way beyond the norm for someone in his position. It seemed that all the stars were aligned.

But at 2:40 PM, the client pulled the plug, and the deal fell through. Yet, surprisingly — no, finally — I didn’t have that pit in my stomach. I wasn’t angry or upset. I simply said, “Baruch Hashem, it wasn’t meant to be.”

I think I was able to react this way for a few reasons. In recent years, there’s been a surge in the encouragement of Emuna and Bitachon, perhaps starting with א.ב.ג. and Reb Sholom Mordechai Rubashkin. There’s been a big wave of learning Shaar Habitachon, Tanya, and Chassidus in general. Even the “Thank You Hashem” movement has had an impact.

Just the other night, after the Bonei Olam men’s event, the door prize was a Kehos English edition of Shaar Habitachon. Over my desk hang two papers: one is the Hayom Yom for Daled Menachem Av, which states: “No matter how much effort is exerted, no one can earn one cent more than Hashem has ordained that he — this particular person — shall earn. One must do what is necessary, but one must remember that all his work is but an adjunct. The main thing is Hashems Broacha, and that is earned by being observant of The Mitzvos: davening with a minyan, Shmiras Shabbos b’hidur, meticulous in kashrus, having children instructed by sincerely religious teachers.” The other is a sharply worded letter from the Frierdiker Rebbe dated Chof Gimmel Adar Aleph Tof Shin Ches, which rebukes someone for being overly anxious about his livelihood and instructs him to learn Chassidus, daven, and live a chassidic life:

א חסידישער מחונך דארף פרעגן ביי זיך אליין “עד מתי” ביז וואנען וועט ער ליגן אין בלאטע און דאגה’נען פארוואס די בלאטע איז. ניט איברען קאפ. חזור בך. ביזט ווייט פארפארן, מען בעדארף לערנען חסידות און דאווענען און לעבן א חסידישען לעבן, והשי”ת יצליחו בגשמיות וברוחניות.

When the Rebbe tells us that we need to view everything we do in life as a shlichus, it means that we must see our job, work, and wealth as a means to an end. This is often easier said than done. Sometimes, we tell ourselves, “I’ve checked all the boxes — I learn Chitas, Rambam, give tzedakah, don’t talk about work on Shabbos, etc. — so Hashem will make everything work out for me. I’ll surely close the deal because that’s how it works.”

But that logic is flawed. We don’t learn Chitas, give tzedakah, and keep Shabbos so we can go to work and make loads of cash. Rather, we work so that we can keep Shabbos, give tzedakah, and fulfill our shlichus in the world.

My Mashpia would often explain: Chazal say that making shidduchim is as difficult for the Eibishter as krias Yam Suf, and that providing livelihood is also as difficult as the splitting of the sea. What does it mean that something is difficult for Hashem? The difficulty lies not in carrying out these tasks but in making the association between the Heavenly decree and the reality on the ground.

When the Yidden stood before the Yam Suf, the malachim were sent to split it so they could proceed. Other malachim challenged this, arguing that the Yidden didn’t seem worthy הללו עובדי עבודה זרה והללו עובדי עבודה זרה. The challenge was to bridge the gap between the Heavenly promise and the reality on the ground.

A similar challenge arises with Parnossah. On Rosh Hashanah, it is decreed how much a person will earn that year. However, the malach distributing the checks encounters a challenge. The person to whom the funds were designated on Rosh Hashanah was in shul, wrapped in a tallis, crying out to Hashem. But the person receiving the money seems like a regular person, far removed from that holy image. The malach spends time trying to reconcile the two, creating a “difficulty.”

There are times in life when we experience a descent, it can be in marriage or in work. The way to draw strength during challenges is by reconnecting with our inner selves, ensuring that our endeavors in the physical world are part of our spiritual progression.

We need to understand why we go to work and why we need to make money. When we comprehend this, we won’t feel hurt or depressed when a deal falls through because we view it as part of our shlichus, a connection with that individual for a reason known only to Hashem.

As chassidim, our job — whether it’s as an Amazon seller, doctor, lawyer, salesman, Uber driver, or anything else — is a shlichus, regardless of our profession. Yes, we may and should make money, even a lot of it, but the focus should be on what we accomplish in our shlichus. We must be honest and remember that it’s not just about making another buck.

Don’t get me wrong — I like money, and the more, the better. The Rebbe and the Frierdiker Rebbe wanted us to be fabulously wealthy, but we need to understand why we need that wealth and what our shlichus is.

This point is beautifully illustrated in the farbrengen of Shabbos Parsha Teruma 5752. the Rebbe emphasized that every Yid must strive to be wealthy — not just spiritually, but materially as well. The Rebbe explains that each of us already possesses immense wealth; if it’s not immediately apparent, it’s because we need to reveal it through our avoda.

During the farbrengen, the Rebbe explored at length the significance of “gold” being the first material listed among the requirements for the Mishkan. The Rebbe’s conclusion is clear: the Hora’ah for every Yid is to work towards being wealthy in every aspect of life. This means becoming rich in Torah and mitzvos, but also accumulating material wealth, which provides the means to fulfill mitzvos with menuchas hanefesh and menuchas haguf. Moreover, this wealth should be used to increase in tzedakah, enhance the beauty of mitzvah observance, and transform our homes into a dwelling place for the Divine.

So, in short, the “order of the day” is to be rich! But how many of us can truly say we are rich? Sure, you might be immersed in learning Torah, transforming the world around you, and managing countless programs and activities that do immense good. But the Rebbe’s directive is clear: our wealth must be both spiritual and material. And it’s not just a suggestion — it’s an essential part of our avodas Hashem.

Baruch Hashem, I lost a $70,000 deal. But through this loss, I gained a deeper understanding of my shlichus and strengthened my connection to my faith. This realization — that wealth, both spiritual and material, is already within our grasp and must be revealed through our avoda — is a true Bracha.