[vc_row][vc_column][vc_tta_accordion active_section=”-1″ collapsible_all=”true”][vc_tta_section title=”Someone Who Needs It” tab_id=”1624966232619-d34fa254-bfdc”][vc_column_text]Rabbi Nir Gavriel
I am an emissary of the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita in the Florentine neighborhood of Tel Aviv. One morning as I was on my way to synagogue I received a call on my cell phone from a very worried-sounding person. He told me that he wanted to come to the synagogue to write a letter to the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita and insert it into a volume of Igrot Kodesh, the King Moshiach Shlita’s published letters.
When I arrived at the synagogue he was waiting for me with his letter already prepared. He explained to me that he had recently gotten married. A month before the wedding, his fiancée was found to have a malignant tumor in her throat. The doctors told her that she would need surgery to remove it but it could wait until after her wedding.
One of their friends, hearing of their plight, advised them to write to Moshiach and request his blessing via the Igrot Kodesh. This happened on Thursday, and his wife’s surgery was scheduled for the following Monday.
Although I did not see an explicit blessing from Moshiach in the page he had opened, I tried to encourage him to have faith in G-d that all would be well. Inside, though, I was deeply concerned for the plight of this young couple.
That Sunday, I was doing my usual rounds of local businesses, to offer the employees and business owners an opportunity to perform the mitzvah of Tefillin. I noticed that a new linen store had just opened, and I went inside and introduced myself as the local representative of Moshiach.
The proprietor, a middle-aged woman, responded, “I know very well who Moshiach is. I have two dollars at home that I received from Moshiach; I owe my life to those dollars!”
Intrigued, I listened as she told me her tale:
“Twenty years ago, I was living in Brooklyn. I was over 30 and still single. A friend of mine suggested that I visit the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita and ask for his blessing. When I went to Moshiach I gathered my courage and asked Moshiach for a blessing to find a spouse. Moshiach handed me a dollar, and blessed me with ‘a complete recovery.’
“I was flabbergasted and confused. I was perfectly healthy. Why had Moshiach blessed me with a complete recovery? I went home and did not go out for a week, out of disappointment and depression. My friend who had suggested that I go to Moshiach said that perhaps Moshiach had not heard me clearly, and asked if I wanted to go back again.
“The following Sunday I made another trip to Moshiach’s synagogue. This time, Moshiach again wished me a ‘complete recovery,’ then handed me another dollar and told me to give it to someone who needs it.
“About six weeks later I understood quite well what Moshiach had meant. I began to suffer from shortness of breath, and after seeing a doctor I was found to have a growth in my throat. After further examinations, I was told that the growth had apparently begun to spread to my lungs and I needed immediate surgery.
“I took the dollar with me and entered the operating room with Moshiach’s dollar under my pillow.
“Shortly after the surgery began, the doctors came out and told my friend who had accompanied me that my heart had stopped beating. They were able to resuscitate me, but decided that it was too risky to continue with the surgery. Therefore, they had ended the surgery without removing the tumor, despite the dire prognosis if the tumor remained. However, they asked her not to inform me that the tumor had not been removed.
“When I awoke from anesthesia, the doctors asked me how I was feeling, and seemed surprised when I told them that I felt great.
“During a follow-up appointment, I thanked the doctor for the surgery and told him that I felt wonderful. The doctor shrugged his shoulders and asked if he could do a thorough examination. After taking the x-rays, the doctor told me in shock: ‘We did not want to tell you this before, but we never removed the tumor during surgery. Somehow, G-d has taken care of it without us—the tumor is gone!’
“Of course, I knew how the tumor had disappeared on its own—it was thanks to Moshiach’s blessings!”
The woman finished relating her story, when suddenly an idea flashed into my mind. I said to the woman: “Remember that Moshiach gave you an extra dollar and told you to give it to someone who needs it? Well, I know just the person!”
Quickly I told her about the young man I had just met, whose wife needed surgery for a tumor in her throat. The woman quickly agreed to give her extra dollar from Moshiach to that young woman. She rushed home and got the dollar and gave it to me. In the meantime, I had called the young man, who came with his wife. The storeowner quickly told her story and gave them the dollar of Moshiach.
The next day, the young man called me and told me that his wife had undergone the surgery successfully.
Two weeks later, I had already forgotten about the whole event. Suddenly my phone rang. The young man was on the other end. “Rabbi, you won’t believe this!”
He told me that his wife had gone for an appointment with one of the top surgeons in Israel. She asked him what follow-up care she would need to prevent the return of the tumor—chemotherapy or radiation?
The doctor smiled and told her, “Your case is extremely unusual. After removing it from your throat, we sent it to a pathology lab. Turns out that it was all a big mistake—the growth was not cancerous at all! It was nothing more than a lump of fat!”[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”New Lease on Life” tab_id=”1624968537247-5a87e3fc-fbe9″][vc_column_text]It was 2:30 AM. The Elias family of Safed, Israel, were on the road, on the way home after attending an event in Jerusalem.
All the passengers dozed off, except for Yakov, the father, who was driving. The car clipped along steadily, and soon Yakov himself was lulled into sleep. Only for a second, but it was enough: The car skidded off the road, hit a light-post, turned over twice and landed on its roof on the side of the road.
Rachel, the mother, was able to get out of the car. She heard her children screaming in pain and fear, which told her that while they were injured, they were still alive, thank G-d. But her eight-month-old baby was nowhere to be seen. Despite her own injuries, Rachel looked for him and suddenly spotted him lying on the road, five meters away from the car. She ran towards him to pick him up, and to her shock she saw that the baby was not breathing.
Rachel began doing CPR, and to her relief she heard him cry. She moved him off the road and seconds later, a huge tractor-trailer drove right over the spot where the baby had been lying.
What about Yakov, her husband? He was still trapped in his seat, his head pressed against the roof of the car, which was upside down. Rachel called his name repeatedly, but he did not respond.
Finally, rescue vehicles arrived and managed to extract Yakov from what was left of the car. All the injured were rushed to the Poriya hospital in Tiberias.
The next morning, it became clear that Yakov and the baby were the most severely injured, with fractures to the skull. Both were flown by medi-copter to the Rambam Hospital in Haifa, where they were placed in intensive care.
The many friends and neighbors of the Elias family prayed on their behalf and wrote letters to the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita, asking for a blessing for their speedy recovery. Within two days, Rachel and the rest of the children were released from the hospital. A few days later, the baby’s condition miraculously improved and he, too, was released. Only Yakov remained hospitalized, and doctors told Rachel that the situation was grave.
Yakov’s condition got worse. He caught pneumonia in his lungs and his fever rose to 41C. The doctors tried to stabilize him but his condition only got worse.
Rachel turned to her friend, Mrs. Sima Ashkenazi, and asked her to write a letter to the King Moshiach Shlita on her behalf. Rebbetzin Ashkenazi wrote the letter and inserted it into a volume of Moshiach’s published letters. She opened it at random to a page that said: “Ask the advice of an understanding doctor who is a friend.”
Rebbetzin Ashkenazi referred Rachel to Rabbi Elimelech Fihrer, head of a prominent patient advocacy center in Israel. He advised her to turn to Dr. Teitleman, head of the Respiratory Intensive Care unit in the Rambam Hospital.
Dr. Teitleman reviewed Yakov’s medical file and said that mistakes had been made in Yakov’s care. He moved Yakov into his own unit and attended to him carefully. The change in Yakov’s care had an immediate effect, and the infection in his lungs began to recede. However, Yakov was still in critical condition and his family decided to add a name, Chaim, for life.
Several days later, one of Yakov’s sons suddenly had a bad feeling. He sat down to pray for his father, and tearfully recited Psalms for many hours. He then wrote a letter to Moshiach asking for his blessing and inserted it into a volume of Moshiach’s letters. The answer said: “There will be a clear-cut miracle, according to all opinions.”
It turned out that the son’s premonition was not without basis. Rachel got a phone call from the hospital, instructing her to come down with the children as soon as possible, for her husband was possibly in his final moments.
As soon as they got to the hospital, Yakov’s situation inexplicably began to improve. He opened his eyes and from then on, he steadily got better. A short while later he was released from the hospital and sent to a rehabilitation home, where he was expected to remain for a year. However, after a few weeks he was well enough to go home.
It is now eight years since the Elias family’s accident, which they celebrate yearly with a party for all their friends. “Yakov’s miracle made me believe in resurrection,” said one friend.[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”“You Must Keep Shabbat”” tab_id=”1624968578220-3cc279a6-713c”][vc_column_text]David Solomon was what you would call a self-made man. He lived in Manhattan and had built himself up from almost nothing. Now he was a multi-millionaire with several factories, had substantial holdings on Wall Street and knew exactly how loud money talks.
Of course, there was no place in his life for Judaism and no time for anything except business and family.
The most precious of all to him was his 18-year-old daughter, Sarah. Her picture was on his desk and every wall of his office. He dreamed of the day that she would marry and he would see grandchildren. He even had a special fund saved up to buy her a new house and whatever she needed.
He was sitting in his office one day when the phone rang. “Mr. Solomon?” asked an official-sounding voice on the other end of the line.
“Yes.”
“Have you got a daughter by the name of Sarah Solomon?”
Again he answered yes.
“This is a police officer speaking from County Hospital. You’d better get down here fast, Mr. Solomon. Your daughter has been in a pretty severe automobile accident.”
Mr. Solomon raced out of the office.
It was a nightmare. She was in critical condition. In a coma. Wires and instruments were attached to every part of her body. The doctors said that it was impossible to operate until her condition stabilized.
Mr. Solomon stood there weeping. What could he do? His wife arrived and she too burst out in tears.
The next few days were almost without sleep. They waited in the hall for some news from the doctors. Perhaps she opened her eyes? Perhaps there would be some improvement?
But the only message of hope he received was his father’s suggestion that he consult with the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita.
“He’s the only one who can help,” his father said. “I have friends who have experienced great miracles with him. If anyone can help you, he can. Just go, get an appointment and get to see him.”
David’s emotions began flipping. At first, he was excited; there was hope! But suddenly he was afraid. “I don’t keep any commandments. I don’t even own a yarmulke! How can I go to this Rabbi? I’ll be so ashamed.”
But then his confidence returned. He remembered his money. “I’ll give a big donation and the Rabbi will certainly hear what I have to say.”
David got directions, jumped in his car and drove down to the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita’s headquarters in Brooklyn to arrange a private meeting (called “Yechidus”). There he learned that usually people had to wait for months, but because of the urgency he was given precedence. That evening, many hours later, he was standing before the King Moshiach Shlita in Moshiach’s office room.
“Moshiach!” He began to cry. “My daughter had a terrible accident. She is in critical condition. Moshiach, can you save her? Here, here is a check for 50 thousand dollars! For your institutions.”
Moshiach just looked at him without seeming to notice the check and said, “If you want to save your daughter, you must begin to observe Shabbos.”
Shabbos? You mean not drive or turn on lights and those things on Saturday?
“Moshiach,” David replied, “I can’t promise such a thing. I’m a very busy man and I’m not a religious Jew. Here!” He took out his checkbook, put it on Moshiach’s desk and began writing.
“Here. One hundred thousand dollars! Please, Moshiach, please add this to the first check. Just save my daughter.”
Moshiach looked at him even more intently and said, “Mr. Solomon, I am here to help you. That money might help my institutions, but if you want to help your daughter, you must keep Shabbos.”
“Moshiach, here!” said Mr. Solomon as he signed his name to another check and placed it before Moshiach. “It’s an open check. Write what you want. Take what you need, just save her!”
“G-d is responsible for her healing,” Moshiach replied. “You must appeal to Him. I can help with prayer, but you must also do your part. At least keep Shabbos. Then your daughter will be healthy and you will even see grandchildren from her.”
Mr. Solomon gathered up his checks. He said he would think about it, shook Moshiach’s hand and left, closing the door after him.
That night he couldn’t sleep. The meeting with Moshiach had made a deep impression on him. Moshiach’s face danced before his eyes, saying, “I am here to help you. Keep Shabbos.” It was the first time in his life he met a man that was not interested in his own personal profit.
Meanwhile, Sarah’s condition deteriorated.
“Fine,” he said to his wife. “This Shabbos we won’t drive or turn on any lights. I mean, we’ll be staying in the hospital anyway, so we have nowhere to go. And I think I remember how my father used to make Kiddush; we can at least begin to do what Rabbi Schneerson, the King Moshiach Shlita said.”
That Sunday there was some improvement, and the next Sunday Sarah opened her eyes for the first time in a month.
Mr. Solomon became a Shomer Shabbos Jew and his daughter Sarah not only became completely healed, she eventually got married and had several children. Just as Moshiach said.[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”The Dollar’s Mission” tab_id=”1624968683983-16d068fd-8c8f”][vc_column_text]The news came like a thunderbolt. Abraham R. was at work in his store in the east side of Manhattan when he got a call from the emergency department of Mount Sinai Hospital. His father was in a serious car crash and his condition was uncertain. After a quick apology to the customers waiting in line, he closed the store, jumped into a cab, and within minutes was in front of the hospital.
He identified himself and a nurse led him down a long corridor. His father lay in the last room.
Abraham entered quietly and the sight that met his eyes was terrifying. A man lay in bed unresponsive, hooked up to many machines, his face covered with an oxygen mask. Was that his father? With trembling knees, he pulled himself up to the bedside and sat down heavily on a stool.
After a few minutes of complete panic, Abraham realized that he needed to pull himself together to deal with the situation at hand. He turned to the doctor on call and asked about his father’s condition. The doctor minced no words. “Your father has a serious head injury and his condition is very unstable. We will need to wait 24 hours for a clear prognosis.”
That evening Abraham returned home. Hard as it was to tear himself away from his father’s bedside, he knew he needed to take a break. He tried to collect his thoughts. Suddenly he remembered the Chabad Chossid whose Torah classes he sometimes attended. He had heard so much about the greatness of the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita and his miracles. Maybe he could help?
He quickly called Bentzy, his Chabad friend. Bentzy advised him to visit the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita that Sunday, when the King Moshiach Shlita will distribute dollars for charity along with blessings. “I’ll wait for you there,” he promised.
This was not the first time that Bentzy had invited Abraham to join him to get a dollar from Moshiach, but he had always refused. It didn’t appeal to him. This time, in his desperation, he agreed.
That Sunday there was heavy rainfall. Abraham arrived in Crown Heights and was shocked to see long lines of people stretching along the sidewalk of Eastern Parkway. All the people seemingly paid no attention to the dark clouds above or the rain pelting down on them as they waited patiently for their turn to enter Moshiach’s synagogue.
The synagogue itself was packed wall to wall. Thousands of people were crowded between the benches and the line crept slowly along the staircase leading to the second floor. There Moshiach stood, distributing dollars for charity and blessings for success.
As the line moved forward, Abraham’s emotions grew stronger. The serious faces around him added to his inner turmoil. Some people were reciting Psalms, others were lost in their own thoughts, preparing for their encounter with Moshiach. Abraham knew that he would soon be face to face with Moshiach, and prepared himself with the words he would say.
Finally, his turn arrived. “Moshiach,” he said emotionally. He spoke in Yiddish, his mother tongue. “My father is very sick with a head injury. Please bless him with a complete recovery.”
Moshiach gave Abraham a dollar and blessed him with success. He handed him an additional dollar and instructed him to have his father place the dollar into a charity box.
Abraham left Moshiach’s shul feeling confused. Did Moshiach not understand that his father was unconscious? He expressed his doubts to Bentzy. “How does Moshiach expect my father to put the dollar in the charity box in his condition?”
But Bentzy was not thrown off. “If Moshiach instructed you, there’s no doubt that your father will be able to do it. He’ll put the dollar in the charity box and will continue to recover in an amazing way.”
Bentzy’s confident words didn’t make much of an impact. Abraham remembered the doctor’s words from just the day before: “Don’t expect miracles. Your father’s condition is very serious and there doesn’t seem to be much hope that it will change. At his age, the body doesn’t recover easily from such a blow.” Abraham put the dollar in his pocket. He was starting to regret that he had made the trip to Brooklyn. Bentzy tried to convince him to visit his father right away and have him put the dollar in the charity box, but Abraham didn’t pay attention to his words.
When Abraham got home and told his wife what happened, she insisted that they go to the hospital immediately to see his father. “What do you have to lose?” she argued.
Before entering his father’s hospital room, Abraham peeked inside and his heart skipped a beat. The bed was empty! Where was his father?
“What’s going on?” he buttonholed a passing doctor.
To his surprise, the doctor smiled. “Take it easy. You have nothing to worry about! Your father woke up a short time ago and was moved to a different room.”
Indeed, that very day his father put the dollar into the charity box, with his own hand.[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”Moshiach’s Recommendation” tab_id=”1624968726973-f24ca675-4309″][vc_column_text]Rabbi Yechiel Michel Charlop, author of the famous halachic works Chof Yamim, was one of the leading Orthodox rabbis in America in the previous century. In 1957, on Tishah BeAv, the fast commemorating the destruction of the Holy Temple, he was on the West Coast, and his son, Rabbi Zevulun Charlop, a rabbi in the Bronx, was visiting his in-laws in Buffalo. Thus Rabbi Charlop’s elderly wife was home alone in New York for the fast.
That year, the strenuous fast and the intense recitation of the Kinos prayers took their toll. By nightfall, Mrs. Charlop’s vision suddenly became blurred, and then she could not see at all. At the same time, she felt piercing pain in her temple. She desperately groped her way to the phone and called the Katz family, friends who lived not far away and whose son, Dr. Sheldon Katz, was the chief resident of neurosurgery at Montefiore Hospital.
Dr. Katz hurried to the Charlop home. After a brief examination, he called in the chief of neurology at the Albert Einstein College of Medicine to come to see Mrs. Charlop at home. His diagnosis was that Mrs. Charlop had suffered an aneurysm in one of the major blood vessels in her head. The doctor felt that her only chance, slim though it was, would be an operation to stem the blood leakage in the brain. In those days, doctors were just learning how to perform this operation and the chances for survival were not high. But the doctor felt there was no alternative.
Rabbi Charlop used his connections to have his mother examined by Dr. Morris Bender, a top neurologist. After several days, Dr. Bender met with the Charlops. He explained to them that in order for him to definitively diagnose Mrs. Charlop’s problem and avert possible impending catastrophe, she would have to undergo an encephalogram–an angiogram of the head. While today this is a routine procedure, at that time it was a much more complicated matter.
“The angiogram itself,” Dr. Bender acknowledged, “involves some danger to the patient.” Nonetheless, he felt they had little choice. For this reason, he was consulting with the Charlops before carrying out the procedure.
The Charlops told Dr. Bender that they would like to think about the matter before giving their consent. Mrs. Charlop asked Rabbi Baruch Putterman, a family friend who was a distinguished rabbi in the Bronx and a noted Lubavitcher Chossid, to ask the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita whether or not they should go ahead with the encephalogram.
The King Moshiach Shlita advised the Charlops, “Find a doctor who will say no to the procedure!” Thereupon the Charlops asked Dr. Bender to help them get a second opinion. “Who would Dr. Bender recommend?”
The doctor was livid. He must have felt that the Charlops were a bit ungrateful after he had extended himself, and to such effect, on Mrs. Charlop’s behalf.
Dr. Bender was at the top of his field. There were few doctors whose opinion he would consider at all worth reckoning with. He gave the Charlops two names: Dr. Houston Merritt, President Eisenhower’s doctor, and Dr. Samuel B. Wortis, Dean of the New York University Medical School. He was sure they would agree with his opinion.
The Charlops contacted Dr. Merritt. He was then in Colorado attending to President Eisenhower, who had suffered a stroke. Understandably, he could not leave the President’s bedside. “Consult with Dr. Wortis,” he told the Charlops. “He’ll be able to evaluate whether the angiogram is necessary or not, although I doubt he or I would override Dr. Bender.”
Dr. Wortis was called, and after examining the patient and closely studying the medical notations, he told the Charlops, “It’s hard to disagree with Dr. Bender. Nevertheless, in this situation, I’m convinced that an angiogram is not called for. It’s not worth even the small risk.”
Although Dr. Bender was surprised when he heard the recommendation of Dr. Wortis, he did not press the point, and Mrs. Charlop did not undergo the angiogram.
She asked her son to bring her siddur to the hospital and place it at her bedside, so that if her sight returned she would be able to use it again for holy matters. Her faith was rewarded. Several days later, she was able to see again, and except for occasional weakness in her left foot, she fully recovered. The cause of her blindness and pain was never diagnosed.
(Republished from To Know and To Care, published by Sichos in English)[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”Change Your Flight!” tab_id=”1624968766613-7a5aef4d-3dfd”][vc_column_text]From childhood, Yitzchak Tzvi Leichtman dreamed of working in publishing. When he reached high school age, his father sought a religious environment where he could learn this trade and enrolled his son in the Chabad Trade School in Kfar Chabad, Israel.
Yitzchak Tzvi studied in Kfar Chabad for four years. In that time, in addition to learning the skills he needed for a job, he also absorbed religious values and fear of Heaven, and a strong respect for the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita.
After completing his studies, Yitzchak Tzvi married and found work in Petach Tikvah, Israel. He kept in close contact with his teachers and mentors from Kfar Chabad, and consulted them on major life decisions.
Once a year he would go to Kfar Chabad for the annual reunion. He enjoyed returning to the environment where he had spent his formative years and forged many deep and lasting relationships.
During these events, a lottery would be held and the winner would win a free ticket to New York, to see the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita. One year, in the 1970s, Yitzchak Tzvi was the lucky winner. Finally, after years of hearing and studying about the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita, he would meet this great Jewish leader face to face.
A side benefit of his lucky win was that he would have the opportunity to visit relatives of his who lived in New York. However, these plans almost did not materialize, because once Yitzchak Tzvi set eyes on the King Moshiach Shlita for the first time he found it hard to tear himself away. He wanted to spend every moment soaking up the special atmosphere in Moshiach’s shul.
When he first came to New York, Yitzchak Tzvi went in for a private audience with Moshiach. As was customary among Chassidim, he first immersed in the Mikvah, studied Chassidus and recited chapters of Psalms.
In honor of the occasion, Yitzchak Tzvi dressed in the standard “uniform” of Chassidim, a black hat and jacket, although this was not his usual manner of dress. He composed a letter to Moshiach with his requests for blessings. The first was for the health of his mother, who was critically ill at the time. Because of her condition, he originally wanted to push off the flight, but his mother insisted that he travel as planned.
Moments before he entered Moshiach’s office, Yitzchak Tzvi was approached by Moshiach’s secretary, who asked if he had written a letter.
When Yitzchak Tzvi showed the secretary the long letter he had written, the secretary shook his head firmly. “Absolutely not,” he said. Instead, he took out of his pocket a small notepad, tore off one page and handed it to Yitzchak Tzvi. “Write down the language that you would like Moshiach to address you in, and the names of the people you wish Moshiach to pray for.” Yitzchak obeyed without protest.
When Yitzchak Tzvi entered Moshiach’s room, Moshiach began to bless him, but Yitzchak Tzvi could not catch most of what Moshiach said. Within a moment, Moshiach’s secretary opened the door to signify that his appointment had come to an end. But Moshiach motioned to him to stay.
Suddenly Moshiach asked, “Did you write a longer letter than this?”
In surprise, Yitzchak Tzvi drew out of his pocket the original letter that he had written. Moshiach leafed through it in one glance, and began to bless Yitzchak Tzvi according to all his requests in the letter. Mainly Moshiach gave blessings for his mother, that she should be completely healed and live a long life.
When the audience ended, Moshiach took thirty dollars out of his drawer and handed them to Yitzchak Tzvi. “Give ten of these to charity, use ten for a Chassidic gathering in Kfar Chabad, and the rest will be for your family.”
When it was time for Yitzchak Tzvi to return to Israel, he wanted to see Moshiach privately one last time. He received an appointment for the day of his flight. Moshiach asked him the time of his flight. When Yitzchak Tzvi told him, Moshiach suggested that he push off the flight for several days, without offering an explanation. Yitzchak Tzvi agreed to honor Moshiach’s request.
Several days later Yitzchak Tzvi boarded a plane to Israel. In the meantime, he was glad to hear that his mother’s condition had improved, to the surprise of the doctors. She went on to live 11 more years, against all expectations.
A short while later, the Israeli media publicized a miracle that Ariel Sharon had had with Moshiach. Palestinian terrorists had hijacked a plane from New York and forced it to land in Algiers, believing that Sharon was a passenger. However, it turned out that Sharon had missed his flight, also on the suggestion of Moshiach that he should fly at a different time.
Hearing this story, Yitzchak Tzvi decided to check the exact time of his own original flight. He saw that he had also been scheduled to fly on the same flight… the one Moshiach had asked him to postpone.[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”Healing the Trauma” tab_id=”1624968825085-143f8b55-f751″][vc_column_text]This story happened about 40 years ago. The Cohen family was one of the first to move to the settlement of Yavniel in the Galilee. Many families were in the midst of building or renovating their homes, and the whole settlement was dotted with tractors and construction materials.
Ahuva’s two oldest children were then two and one. They were playing near their home, in the shadow of the construction zone. That day they decided to play right near a huge tractor, while Ahuva stood nearby watching them. She wasn’t afraid to have them play near the tractor, as it was parked and no workers were nearby. Construction vehicles were a common sight in their settlement.
Suddenly, without any warning, the tractor began to move. Ahuva screamed in terror as the tractor bore down on her two babies. With superhuman strength, she ran and moved them out of the path of the tractor. With only seconds to spare, the tractor’s huge wheels rumbled over the spot where they had been playing.
Miraculously, the tractor was stopped by a pile of gravel that stood in its path. That saved their lives. However, it did not keep Ahuva from being badly injured. She hit the side of the tractor and fell hard. She was glad in her heart that she had saved her babies, but she lay on the ground in excruciating pain. She was rushed to the hospital, where she was found to have multiple fractures throughout her body, including a number of vertebrae in her spine. “You had a great miracle, ma’am,” the doctors told her. She was put into a body cast from her hips to her neck.
For the first few weeks, Ahuva felt glad over the miracle she had experienced. She accepted her suffering patiently and tried to distract herself from the pain in her body. Friends, relatives, and acquaintances took turns visiting and spending time with her, which also helped her keep up her spirits.
But as the months went by, Ahuva’s mood plummeted. The lack of movement, the pain, the boredom–it was unbearable. Ahuva spent seven months in the hospital, during which she fell into a deep depression. Whenever her children came to visit, she would try to hold them, to hug them, but the casts got in her way.
Her depression worsened to the point that even when the casts were removed, she had lost all interest in life. She was not even interested in holding or playing with her children. She felt that she was no longer the same mother as before, no longer able to care for them as she had always done.
One of her friends, Sarah Yuzan, told her that her sister was married to a Chabad Chossid and even lived in Kfar Chabad. She recommended that Ahuva reach out to her and ask her to write to the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita for a blessing.
Ahuva had heard a lot about the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita and his miracles. She got in touch with her friend’s sister and sent a fax to the King Moshiach Shlita detailing her condition and her request for Moshiach’s blessing.
as soon as she sent off the fax, she felt her mood lift. Before she wrote the letter they had explained to her that Moshiach doesn’t need to receive the letter physically to send her a blessing. But even she could not have imagined how quickly her salvation would come.
After that, Ahuva rapidly improved in both body and soul. Her physical pains went down, her fractures healed, and within a short time her depression left her entirely. Ahuva went back to being the person she was before the accident, and she knew quite clearly to whom she owed her recovery.
After the accident, Ahuva’s greatest fear was that she wouldn’t be able to bear any more children. To her great relief, a year later she was blessed with another child whom she named Eliran, to express her gratitude to G-d who had brought such joy to her life.[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”The Power of L’Chaim” tab_id=”1624968851927-83e46fa6-d17a”][vc_column_text]Shortly after his 33rd birthday, Meir Sakat of Rishon Litzion, Israel began feeling strong pain in his lower back and abdomen. At first, he tried to ignore it. He figured that he had lifted something incorrectly and pulled a muscle in his back.
Time went on but when the pain only intensified, his wife urged him to see a doctor.
For four months, Meir went from one doctor to another. They did various tests but found nothing unusual. Finally, he came to one doctor who did not brush him off but did a thorough examination. The results were grave: Meir had a tumor in his stomach. He would need two complicated surgeries to remove the growth, followed by a long, draining course of chemotherapy.
Meir’s mind reeled from the alarming information. His wife was due to give birth in a few weeks. Who knows, he thought with angst, whether he would live to raise his child or even see him.
With his thoughts spinning, Meir decided to write a letter to the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita. In his youth, Meir had studied in the Chabad Trade School in Kfar Chabad and had learned about the greatness of the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita and the power of his blessings. Meir poured out his woes in a letter and sent it by fax to the King Moshiach Shlita’s office. The days went by, and to his disappointment, there was no answer from Moshiach.
Confused and upset, Meir did not know whether he should undergo the surgery. The doctors pressured him and told him that there was no time to lose.
The surgery was done and was a great success. Meir was told to rest for a few weeks to recuperate, and then the second surgery would be performed.
The date of the second surgery was set for Wednesday. On Tuesday, the day before the surgery, Meir was admitted to the hospital. He underwent a round of tests and was told that his body was not strong enough to undergo the surgery. He was still weak from the previous surgery, and the various treatments that he was on were not having the desired effect. The doctors decided to release Meir to his home for a week, to eat well and regain his strength.
The week passed quickly, but Meir’s condition did not improve. The doctors debated whether to perform the surgery anyway. Was the risk of the tumor spreading greater than the risk of the surgery itself? Meir himself was disturbed and restless. Why had Moshiach not answered his letters? Was he not deserving of a blessing?
After a long consultation, the doctors decided to go ahead with the surgery. Meir was hooked up to an IV and left to rest overnight in the hospital. That evening, Meir felt himself weakening. He begged his wife to bring him a glass of tea to moisten his parched throat. In his mind he reviewed the warnings of the doctors, that the surgery was critical and he must not allow his spirits to fall. Despair on his part would spell doom. However, Meir found it difficult to dispel the gloom that engulfed him.
As he lay there in pain, he suddenly heard the familiar voice of Rabbi Shmuel Kattan, who had been his teacher during his yeshiva days in Kfar Chabad. Rabbi Kattan told Meir that he had recently been to the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita and had received a bottle of mashke (vodka) for a blessing. Now that he heard of Meir’s condition, he came to visit him and offer him some of the King Moshiach Shlita’s mashke to say L’chaim.
Meir was hesitant – was he allowed to have even a drop of alcohol in his state? Rabbi Kattan assured him that a small drop of Moshiach’s mashke would do no harm and would only strengthen him. Meir moistened his lips with Moshiach’s mashke. Immediately, he felt a change come over him. His restlessness was gone, and a feeling of calm and confidence took its place.
The operation was done the following day and was a great success.
But the story does not end here. Shortly after the surgery, Meir’s wife gave birth to a son. Before the brit, the lucky parents sent Moshiach a letter to inform him of the birth. This time, they received an answer within days. Moshiach blessed the child that he will grow up to bring joy to his father and mother and underlined the word father.
Meir took the marking as a special sign. “You see, Moshiach was thinking about me the whole time, even though, for whatever reason, my letter was not answered in writing.”[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”To Walk Again” tab_id=”1624968880786-819f3572-c402″][vc_column_text]By Tzvi Zimmerman
Since childhood, my daughter Shirley was a gifted athlete. Her favorite sport was swimming and her trainers predicted a bright future. By the time she was 12 years old, in 1982, she had already won a number of local competitions in her hometown, Haifa.
One day Shirley began to complain of pain in her legs. My wife and I thought it was due to her heavy exercising. Her doctor, after examining her, agreed with our assessment and advised Shirley to lay off exercise until the pains subsided. However, Shirley stubbornly ignored the doctor’s advice and continued training for swimming competitions.
After a few days, the pains intensified to the point that Shirley began to limp. We immediately had her hospitalized in the Carmel Hospital in Haifa. The doctors performed more tests but could not pinpoint the cause of her pain. Her legs weakened until she was unable to stand altogether.
I consulted with top orthopedic doctors in Israel but they were all unable to explain the sudden paralysis in Shirley’s legs.
Six weeks passed, during which Shirley lay in bed in great pain. I remember lifting Shirley in my arms to feed her, to wash her. My eyes would fill with tears to see this decline in my active, athletic daughter.
One Thursday evening, the telephone rang in my office. My wife was on the line, and she told me that a half-hour ago, three young Chabadniks had come to our door. Now they were waiting in my home to speak to me. She asked me to hurry home to find out what they wanted.
When I came home, I saw an unusual sight. Two of the Chabadniks were chatting in the kitchen with my older daughter. A third was playing piano and singing with my youngest son, Danny. My wife, who was exhausted from the difficult weeks, had gone to her room to lie down, leaving the children with the guests.
The Chabadniks were not perturbed at all by my sudden appearance. They felt completely at home. They identified themselves as Gidi Sharon, Menashe Althaus and Zohar Eisenberg. They told me that they had heard of my daughter Shirley’s difficulties and wanted to help. They offered to write a letter on my behalf to the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita to request his blessing.
I gave my consent, and there ensued a series of conversations between the Chabadniks and the King Moshiach’s secretariat in New York. On one occasion, Moshiach’s secretary, Rabbi Groner, asked to speak with me. He asked me several questions and then told me that Moshiach promised to pray for Shirley at the gravesite of his father-in-law, the Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe.
In accordance with Moshiach’s instructions, the young Chabadniks removed the Mezuzos from my doorposts for inspection. The first mezuzah to be inspected was from the door of Shirley’s bedroom. They unrolled the mezuzah and began reading through it, letter by letter. When they came to the word “u’vkumecha” (when you will stand up), they stopped. The letter Kuf in the word was rubbed out, which rendered the mezuzah unkosher. They had brought with them an extra kosher mezuzah, which they proceeded to affix on the doorpost of Shirley’s room.
Personally, I was not all that convinced that changing the mezuzah on Shirley’s bedroom door would have any effect. But the Chabadniks had utmost confidence that Shirley’s recovery was practically a done deal. They wanted to make a toast as if Shirley had already begun to walk again. “You’ll see,” said Eisenberg. “Moshiach has given his blessing, the mezuzah was replaced—everything will be OK now.”
We said L’chaim, and the young men went off on their way.
The next day, Friday, I went to the hospital early in the morning to visit Shirley. When I got to the hallway leading to Shirley’s ward, I rubbed my eyes in surprise—Shirley was walking towards me! She was still limping and leaning on a walker, but she was on her own two feet.
After Shabbos, Shirley was released from the hospital. Her condition improved rapidly and the pains subsided. After two weeks, she was back in school and showed no signs of the pain or paralysis. The doctors admitted that they could find no cause for her sickness or for its sudden disappearance.[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”Taken in Hand” tab_id=”1624968919648-1114b201-312b”][vc_column_text]Rafi Peretz worked as a technician in a cement factory in Afula, Israel, operating a machine that mixed the concrete and then poured it onto a conveyor belt. One day, he noticed that the conveyor belt was moving exceedingly slow. He approached the mixer to figure out the problem and discovered that excess sand had built up inside the drum.
Rafi began to clean out the sand from the machine, and that’s when the accident happened. With one careless move, his hand got stuck inside the mixer. As Rafi screamed in horror, the mixer continued to rotate inexorably, crushing the bones of his hand and ripping two of his fingers to shreds.
After an interminable moment, the machine somehow stopped working. This mixer had a capacity of 60 tons of concrete, and it was inconceivable that it could be stopped by a human hand alone. But this fortunate interruption saved Rafi’s hand from further damage.
Rafi was rushed to the emergency room at Haemek Hospital. His newlywed young wife, Sigal, only 18 years old and pregnant, was summoned there urgently and asked to make critical decisions on his behalf. The doctors told her authoritatively that Rafi’s hand would never function again. “We must amputate his hand immediately. If we don’t operate now, infection could set in and threaten your husband’s life.” They handed her a consent form and asked her to sign her agreement.
How could she, with her own hand, sign the form and condemn her husband to such a dreadful fate? But at her young age, it did not occur to Sigal to challenge the opinion of the doctors. With a heavy heart, she signed the consent and then burst into helpless tears.
For a long while, Sigal stood there and sobbed, alone and without support. After about an hour, a woman approached and took pity on the anguished young woman. “Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked gently.
“How could you help me?” Sigal replied bitterly, her eyes reddened with tears.”They are about to amputate my husband’s hand. With my own hand I signed the consent for this,” she said brokenly.
“I can definitely help you,” the woman assured her. “I am a Chossid of the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita. Tell me all the details, and give me your husband’s name and his mother’s name. I will send your story to the King Moshiach Shlita and ask for his blessing. Surely it will help.”
At first Sigal did not comprehend what the woman wanted from her. Very shortly the surgeons would operate on her husband and amputate his hand. How would Moshiach help? But the confidence that emanated from this woman had an effect on her. Sigal agreed to take upon herself a good resolution — to give more money to charity — in merit of Rafi’s speedy recovery. However, she did not have much faith that Moshiach’s blessing would make a difference.
After several hours, the door to the operating room opened. Rafi’s stretcher was wheeled down the hall, and Sigal braced herself for her first view of Rafi’s bandaged stump. She approached him, her heart beating wildly, and to her shock saw that both hands were still attached to her husband’s body. She checked again and again, to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
Sigal could not contain her excitement and went over to one of the surgeons. “Doctor, please explain what is happening. You didn’t amputate Rafi’s hand?”
“No, we did not amputate,” the doctor said reassuringly. The doctor explained that everything was ready for the amputation. Rafi’s arm was anesthetized and the surgeons were standing ready with their equipment. Suddenly the hospital’s chief surgeon entered the operating room. He had already gone home for the day and remembered that he had left something important in the operating room. Seeing all the activity, he went over to the patient for a closer look.
After inspecting Rafi’s mangled hand, the doctor said decisively, “You are not amputating this hand! This man is young and his body will be able to heal with extensive physical therapy. Do everything you can to save the hand.” The chief surgeon remained in the operating room and personally performed the surgery, to ensure that Rafi’s hand would regain as much functionality as possible.
A flash ran through Sigal’s mind. She was certain that G-d Himself had arranged matters so that the head of surgery should leave something in that room and come back just in time to change the course of Rafi’s life.
The rehabilitation period took a year and a half. The doctors had repaired his shattered bones and nerves. With great patience and motivation on the part of Rafi — and Sigal — he went through a course of therapy and his hand was restored to its former functioning.
Today, nearly twenty years later, Rafi runs his own taxi business in the city of Safed and even drives one himself — with the hand that was almost amputated. “Moshiach’s blessings literally flow through my veins,” he says.[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”The Answer in the Book” tab_id=”1624968959128-c9c376ab-8636″][vc_column_text]by Refoel Avraham Dobkin
Each Friday, I would go out to a public place on Mivtzoim, the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita’s mitzvah campaigns, to persuade fellow Jews to perform Mitzvos.
I went out on my regular weekly route with my friend, Yisroel Noach Friedman, to Merkaz Giora, a main shopping and business center in Safed. After about an hour of helping fellow Jews put on tefillin, a middle-aged man passed by our stand. We asked him if he would like to put on tefillin, but he declined with a rejecting wave of his hand. I noticed that his refusal was somewhat hesitant, so I tried to get into conversation with him and explain the great value in putting on tefillin.
As he listened to my pitch, he softened up a bit, introducing himself as Moshe E., who had recently undergone some major upheavals. According to his story, he had five complicated heart operations during the last year alone, and his doctors saw no hope for his recovery. I sympathized totally with him and his plight. As we spoke, he rolled up his sleeve and asked to put on tefillin.
After he removed the tefillin, he continued to tell me his story with a heavy heart. It turned out that not only did he have five heart surgeries recently, but his doctors had informed him that he would have to go through another one even more complicated than the others. If that wasn’t enough, his wife had decided that she wanted a divorce, and he had just heard from the courts that she was suing him for half of all his possessions, including a demand for sole ownership of their house.
Due to his health problems, he also found himself out of a job. He had just been fired from work, and therefore, was forced to accept help from friends and acquaintances, something he never believed he would ever do. Because of all these events, his troubled soul found no rest.
We suggested that he write to the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita for advice and a blessing, and place the letter into a volume of Igrot Kodesh, the King Moshiach Shlita’s published letters. At first, the man had doubts about the effectiveness of writing to Moshiach, but after a little explanation, he accepted the idea.
He sat on the side and with the utmost solemnity, wrote about all that he had gone through over the past few years. The answer that he received appears in Vol. 14, p. 426:
“I happily received his letter from 7 Adar I, in which he writes about the improvement of his health and that they have already settled in an apartment. May it be G-d’s will that the general state of order, in connection with matters of livelihood, will also be realized very soon, as he desires…
“Awaiting good news in all the aforementioned, and may it be G-d’s will that just as he and his wife have seen the kindnesses of G-d Alm-ghty up until now, so they will find only goodness and kindness in their current place in proper order with health and broadening knowledge.”
There was no need to explain the answer to him, as the words were absolutely clear. Moshiach addressed every one of his difficulties: health, his relationship with his wife, and their financial situation.
This fellow was stunned. “How can it be that I write a letter to a book, and my answer is right there?” he cried.
A few months went by when suddenly one day we met him again on the street. He recognized us first and rushed to greet us.
“You won’t believe it,” he called out excitedly, “The Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita is a giant among giants! Everything worked out so quickly, I’m still in shock and sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure that it’s for real!
“My wife suddenly decided to drop the case against me, and has returned home to me. Two weeks ago, still puzzled over what had brought her to change her mind, I arrived at the hospital for my sixth operation. A few days earlier, I had already made all the mental and physical preparations for the medical procedure. Yet, to my amazement, after undergoing a series of pre-surgery x-rays, the doctors informed me that based on the results, they saw no need for an operation…”
“Moshiach’s words were fulfilled, one by one,” he concluded. “Even our financial issues have been totally solved. A few days ago, I was accepted to a position at one of the precincts of the police department.”[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”Imperfect Tefillin” tab_id=”1624969019043-8104714e-ad85″][vc_column_text]Eliyahu Turgeman of Israel visited the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita for the first time in 1981, during which time he also entered into “yechidut,” a private audience with the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita. At the conclusion of this meeting, the King Moshiach Shlita advised him to inspect his tefillin and mezuzot.
Veteran Chassidim informed Eliyahu that an instruction like this from Moshiach should be carried out right away. Therefore he did not wait for his return trip to Israel, but immediately called his wife in their home in Netanya and instructed her to remove all the Mezuzos from their doors and bring them to a sofer, a scribe, to inspect. His tefillin, which he had with him in New York, were brought to a sofer as soon as he returned to Israel.
After inspecting them, the sofer told Eliyahu that his mezuzot were all kosher but not exceptionally so. Eliyahu wanted only the best quality mezuzot to hang in his home, so he purchased all new Mezuzos. His tefillin, on the other hand, were found to be perfectly in order. The sofer did not find a single thing wrong with them, and told Eliyahu that they were an exceptionally fine pair.
“This can’t be,” said Eliyahu with certainty. “Moshiach did not have me inspect them for no reason.”
The sofer shrugged his shoulders. “I did not find anything wrong. If you want, I can send them to another sofer and see if he finds a problem.”
Eliyahu sent a letter to Moshiach to clarify his next step. The reply was not long in coming: He should inspect his tefillin to ensure that they are kosher according to Jewish law.
If until now Eliyahu had any doubts, they were now confirmed: there definitely was a problem with his tefillin. Otherwise, Moshiach would not have recommended having them checked a second time.
This time Eliyahu brought his tefillin to a senior sofer in Kfar Chabad, who also could not find a problem. Another sofer he visited told him that the tefillin themselves were fine, but perhaps he should get wider straps. These, however, were not strictly necessary, the sofer reassured him, as the ones he already had were perfectly kosher.
Eliyahu was left feeling somewhat frustrated and confused. He had a clear sensation that his tefillin were not quite in order, but he had visited no less than three sofers and none found a problem.
Years passed. Eliyahu was in France for a relative’s wedding and was riding on the subway when he suddenly felt his heart beating unusually fast. He felt very ill and immediately went to a local doctor.
The doctor advised him to return to Israel as soon as possible to undergo a round of tests.
Eliyahu quickly arranged for his return trip to Israel and underwent a thorough cardiac exam. To his surprise, the doctors could not find a problem. They could not explain the sudden flutter he had had in France.
A few days later Eliyahu felt the same symptoms come on again. His body began to shake and he was unable to catch his breath. He started to fear leaving his house, and stayed home except to visit various doctors, none of whom could explain what was wrong.
One thought came to his mind: the tefillin. Yet again he packed them up and took them to be inspected by a sofer. He had heard that it was very important to make sure that the tefillin boxes were perfectly square, and he asked the sofer to shave and sharpen the corners.
The sofer he chose this time was Rabbi Ziss of Netanya. He shaved the tefillin boxes as requested, and then noticed a stain on the tefillin. “What is this?” he asked Eliyahu when he came to pick up his tefillin.
“You are asking me?” replied Eliyahu. “I thought you were supposed to know.”
Rabbi Ziss inspected the tefillin from all sides, and after a moment of thought, he opened the tefillin boxes, removed the parchment and then sprinkled in a few drops of alcohol.
“Do you see this?” he pointed out to Eliyahu. “I am very sorry to tell you, Reb Eliyahu, but your tefillin are not kosher!” Rabbi Ziss explained that while the tefillin boxes were being made, a hole had formed, which someone tried to repair using scraps of parchment and glue. “However, the seal was not done properly, as demonstrated by the alcohol I just dropped in, which leaked through.”
Eliyahu concludes, “The end of the story is that I bought a new set of tefillin, and since then I never experienced those strange heart palpitations again. I have been perfectly healthy since, which I hope will continue, with G-d’s help, until the immediate Redemption.”[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”Spiritual and Physical Healing” tab_id=”1624969047289-de5fcf69-34e4″][vc_column_text]Raphael Nuriel is an artist whose reputation precedes him. When he and his wife Esther emigrated from Iran to London in 1970, they were far from living a religious lifestyle. Among their new neighbors were the Rotman family, Chabad followers who were very friendly and helpful to the new arrivals. But the lifestyle differences between the two families left the Nuriels a bit reluctant to forge a closer bond..
In the summer of 1979, Rafael and Esther had a daughter, whom they named Ruth-Laura. Little Laura’s development at first seemed normal, but when she was a year old her parents sensed that something was wrong: Laura had yet to say a single syllable. She’d occasionally make brief shouts, but that was about it. .
Girls her age typically had a vocabulary of at least a few dozen words, while Laura said nothing. Her pediatrician examined her thoroughly and reassured the parents that there was no reason to be alarmed. Speech delays are common and are considered normal. But that did not alleviate their concerns. .
When Laura turned two, their fears intensified. She still was not saying a single word. The only sounds she made were screams of anxiety when she was startled by something. The parents continued to try to convince themselves that the mysterious problem would eventually work out, but more than once Raphael found his wife by the daughter’s bedside with tears streaming down her eyes.
At one point, Laura developed severe anxiety. Any unexpected noise or exposure to strangers made her cling to her parents in horror. At night she had nightmares and would cry hysterically, with nothing able to calm her down..
By the time she was four, the situation had only worsened. Her nightmares disturbed her mother’s sleep night after night. Laura would still scream with anxiety, and during one such episode she ruptured a blood vessel. Her doctor told the parents that she needed urgent surgery to repair it.
Mrs. Rothman, who was aware of the Nuriels’ plight, debated with herself whether to contact them and offer help. Would they welcome her involvement? Finally, she decided she just had to reach out. The parents, as if waiting for a sympathetic ear, spoke to her about their great apprehension ahead of the surgery which was to be performed two days later.
Mrs. Rotman offered a practical suggestion: to ask for a blessing from the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita. “I am confident that the King Moshiach Shlita’s blessing will help you.” She spoke to Raphael and Esther about Moshiach’s greatness and his love for every Jew. The frustrated parents agreed that Mrs. Rotman would call Moshiach’s office on their behalf and ask for a blessing. With that, the conversation ended.
On the morning of the operation, Moshiach’s secretariat issued a response in the following form: “Blessing and success, and complete healing in other matters as well.” Mrs. Rotman passed on the message to Laura’s parents, and they thanked her and hurried to the hospital.
As expected, Laura became hysterical in the hospital due to the unfamiliar surroundings. Only an injection of sedative soothed her. To the relief of her parents, the operation was short, quick, and successful. After the operation, they had a surprise: Laura fell into a deep, restful sleep, as she had not slept in a long time.
When Laura opened her eyes, a smile could be seen in the corners of her mouth. But the great miracle occurred when she woke up again: she began to sing the melody “Adon Olam,” with lyrics! The parents stood in awe. These were the first significant words that Laura had ever uttered.
In the next few days, Laura had no signs of pain. Her fears disappeared completely. She also started talking and soon caught up with her peers.
It was impossible not to attribute this to Moshiach’s blessing. This experience caused Raphael and Esther to strengthen their ties with the Rotman family and become more interested in tradition and religion.
As mentioned, Raphael is an artist. At one point, he decided to paint Moshiach’s portrait. Portraits were his area of expertise, so he was surprised at how difficult a challenge it turned out to be.
The portrait took Nuriel many months to complete. During the process, he felt a strong need to elevate himself spiritually, “to express holiness through painting.” When his painting was almost finished, he decided to go to the King Moshiach Shlita and only then complete the painting.
The Nuriel family traveled to Moshiach and received a warm welcome. At the first opportunity, Raphael showed Moshiach his painting, and Moshiach remarked that he did not fold his fingers in the way Raphael had painted because it was forbidden according to Kabbalah. On his return to London, Raphael corrected the position of the fingers according to Moshiach’s remark, and only then did he feel that he was able to complete the painting.
Raphael concludes, “When Moshiach blessed us with complete healing in all matters, Moshiach meant not only the physical healing of my daughter but the spiritual healing of the entire family.”[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”Like the Baal Shem Tov” tab_id=”1624969568425-cfa6a172-0cb3″][vc_column_text]Moshe Mendel Feiner, a Chossid of Belz, lives in Los Angeles with his wife. The following story happened to him in the year 5711 (1951), immediately after the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita took over the leadership of the movement after the passing of his father-in-law. During the early years, Moshiach still attributed the leadership of the movement to his father-in-law, and sometimes demurred when asked to give advice or a blessing.
During this interim period between the passing of the Previous Rebbe and the ascent of Moshiach to leadership, Moshe’s wife began to feel unwell. At first they thought it was a normal illness that would go away, but her weakness persisted and she developed additional worrisome symptoms. Their family doctor immediately referred them to a specialist who referred them to a greater specialist, who sent them for numerous tests. Finally one of the doctors sadly informed them that they had discovered a malignant tumor.
The couple was shocked by the diagnosis. Immediately their normal routine was disrupted and daily life became a grueling journey of tests, diagnoses, and exhausting treatments. They vacillated between hope and despair.
As part of their efforts to eradicate the disease, the Feiners sought not only physical remedies but also spiritual cures. This is how they reached the door of Moshiach.
In those days it was relatively easy to get an appointment for a private audience with Moshiach, except that Moshiach generally refrained from giving blessings and would reply with phrases such as “What am I and who am I?” Despite this, people advised the Feinters to seek Moshiach’s blessing. Even then, numerous stories were floating around about the power of Moshiach’s blessings.
So Moshe made the distant journey from the west coast to New York City to meet Moshiach in his synagogue at 770 Eastern Parkway in Brooklyn. Moshe, exhausted from traveling on the clunky airplanes of more than sixty years ago, was enraptured by the young Moshiach. He had met several Rebbes in his day, but could immediately sense that Moshiach was an exceptional personality. He found himself tongue-tied in Moshiach’s presence but quickly recovered. His wife’s life was at stake and now was not a time to be silent.
Moshe described to Moshiach his wife’s serious condition, and at first Moshiach responded, as he did to so many others, with “Who am I and what am I to bless?” But Moshe did not give up. The desperate situation emboldened him and he said to Moshiach respectfully but firmly: “I don’t care who you are, I need a blessing. My wife is in a very difficult situation, and a Jewish blessing works.”
With such a profound statement Moshiach did not argue. “What kind of chassid are you?” Moshiach asked.
“I am a follower of Belz,” Moshe replied.
Moshiach said, “If so, the Rebbe of Belz has always conducted himself in a wondrous way with revealed miracles. I, too, will behave in the style of the Baal Shem Tov, with wondrous miracles.”
Moshe was moved by the special wording of Moshiach’s words to him and went back to describing to Moshiach about his wife’s difficult situation and that in fact the doctors were desperate for her life.
Moshiach then uttered some truly extraordinary words: “You know that the Nazis, may their names be obliterated, wiped out more than six million Jews. Do you agree that I should exchange the life of one German for a Jewish daughter?”
Moshe did not hesitate. It was clear to him that Moshiach had a specific daughter of Israel in mind.He gave his consent immediately.
“Then,” Moshiach continued, “you have nothing to worry about. Everything will be fine” …
Moshe left the young Moshiach’s room stunned by the explicit blessing he had received. He kept quiet about the matter and waited for the realization of Moshiach’s blessing, in the style of the Baal Shem Tov as Moshiach had defined it. Indeed, shortly afterwards his wife was totally and miraculously healed. The medical team treating her had no explanation for her supernatural recovery.[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”She Can See” tab_id=”1624969834112-1ccc7603-10f3″][vc_column_text]Avraham and Orah were a young couple who lived in Taanach, Israel. He was a regular participant in Chabad Torah classes and she taught in the Chabad preschool, but they were not Orthodox Jews themselves.
Recently the couple celebrated the birth of their first daughter. Like all new parents, they got through the first few weeks anxiously, with the first feeding, first diaper change and first bath. Soon they became comfortable with the routines and began to enjoy parenthood, despite their sleepless nights.
One night, Avraham and Orah heard suspicious coughing coming from their daughter’s crib, accompanied by little gasps. As worried new parents, they rushed to her side and saw that she seemed to be choking. Wasting no time, they snatched her up from her crib and rushed her to the car for a trip to the emergency room.
In the hospital, the baby was examined by a team of doctors and nurses. Her mother held her as her little body was wracked with coughing. She was given treatment immediately and slowly her breathing became more regular, and her parents’ breathing relaxed as well. As a precaution, she was admitted to the hospital overnight for observation.
The parents noticed that the pediatrician who first examined their daughter continued to follow her case, and ordered additional tests and exams that didn’t seem to be related to her breathing problem. The next morning, the parents were called in for a conference with a more senior doctor, who explained that he was not so concerned about the baby’s breathing, but there were some worrisome findings in her eyes. “It’s difficult for me to say this, but there is a strong possibility that your daughter may be blind.”
After the baby was released from the hospital, the worried parents took her to various vision specialists. To their great despair, the doctors were unanimous in their opinion that their daughter’s condition would inexorably lead to blindness, and none could offer a treatment or cure.
Desperation began to eat away at the couple. At this stage, all they could do was to contact their rabbi, Yitzchak Yadgar, the local Chabad emissary, for advice and support. Ora’s parents lived not far from Rabbi Yadgar, and when they called the rabbi said he’d be right over.
Rabbi Yadgar knew the couple as cheerful people, full of life, and now he saw them looking pale, drawn and hopeless. “The doctors give us no hope that she’ll be able to see,” Avraham with great pain, quickly summing up their story.
Rabbi Yadgar advised them to write to the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita to request his blessing. He also suggested that they make themselves into a vessel to contain the blessing. “Commit yourselves to doing a good deed that takes you out of your comfort zone, and G-d will also go out of His ‘comfort zone’ to perform a miracle for you.”
The couple accepted upon themselves to keep Shabbat, Kashrut and family purity. Avraham also committed to putting on Tefillin every weekday. Rabbi Yadgar called the King Moshiach Shlita’s office to convey to the Rebbe’s secretaries the couple’s commitments and their request for “open miracles” in regard to their daughter’s eyesight.
The next day, Rabbi Yadgar received a telephone call from the King Moshiach Shlita’s office. The King Moshaich Shlita advised the parents to consult with a doctor who is a friend, and added “I will mention it at the gravesite,” referring to the grave of his father-in-law, the previous Rebbe, Rabbi Joseph I. Schneerson. Rabbi Yadgar went personally to visit the couple and convey to them the King Moshiach Shlita’s answer. “Remember,” he said with his characteristic humor, “even after you see the revealed miracle you still need to keep your resolutions…”
Avraham and Ora consulted with Professor Ben Ezra, a vision expert in Hadassah Hospital. Avraham called to make an appointment, and the despair in his voice convinced the doctor to give him the soonest available appointment, in two weeks’ time.
Dr. Ben Ezra examined the girl thoroughly, and concluded that the baby’s eyes were fine. They had nothing to worry about. Just like that!
He wrote up the results of his examination and his diagnosis, and the relieved parents held on to the document as if their daughter’s life depended on it. Naturally, they kept their word and fulfilled their resolutions in their entirety. In fact, they continued to grow and strengthen their commitment to all matters of Judaism.[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”Healthy Children, At Last” tab_id=”1624969861225-5d0f4368-7fa8″][vc_column_text]Shimon Ben-Chai
Queens, New York
Healthy Children, At Last
My wife Nava and I were married 35 years ago. Shortly after our wedding, we found out that we were expecting our first child.
At the end of the sixth month, complications arose and Nava had to go to the hospital. The baby, a girl, was born, but lived for only an hour.
We returned to our empty home and tried to deal with the loss. We decided to try again for a healthy child.
The next time around, the pregnancy seemed to go normally. After nine months, we found ourselves traveling once again to the hospital, our lips uttering words of prayer that things should just go well.
The doctor came out of the delivery room with a solemn expression on his face. “Not again,” I thought to myself despairingly.
The doctor informed me that I had a baby boy, alive but with many health problems. The joy that the baby was alive made me forget the complications for the moment – a very brief moment.
My wife sat near the baby in the hospital, day and night. For four harrowing months, she hardly came home. It’s difficult for me even to recall that horrible time.
In the physical sense, our prayers didn’t help. After four months, my wife returned home without the child. He did not make it.
This was much harder than the first time. I felt that I was about to explode. Friends and neighbors looked at me with absolute pity. I could read their minds: “Look at that poor man; he has already lost two children.”
My wife traveled to the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita to receive his blessing. She burst into tears and asked the King Moshiach Shlita for a blessing to have children. She said that she couldn’t take it anymore, and she wanted a living and healthy child.
The King Moshiach Shlita merely looked at her with kindly eyes, but said nothing.
The third pregnancy was a repeat of the previous ones. The hopes, the prayers, the expectations, and the great disappointment. This time, the baby lived for six months before passing away. The baby was interred next to his other siblings.
From then on, it had already become a grim routine. My wife would become pregnant, go to the hospital… and give birth to an unviable child. We would go back home and recuperate, but we remained unbroken – until the next time. Five, yes, five more agonizing times – our hopes and anticipation ended in grief and bitter frustration.
My wife wrote many times to the King Moshiach Shlita requesting a blessing, yet the King Moshiach Shlita did not respond.
During Nava’s ninth pregnancy, the doctors revealed that she was carrying twins. This led them to draw two conclusions: First, it was imperative for Nava to remain under observation from the fourth month, and second, in light of her previous history, she must abort one of the fetuses, as giving birth to twins would endanger her life.
It was 1993, after the King Moshiach Shlita had suffered a stroke, and the King Moshiach Shlita no longer spoke nor responded to letters personally. The new rule was that the secretary went in and asked the King Moshiach Shlita to reply with a nod or a shake of his head.
Nava wrote to the King Moshiach Shlita–again. We are believing Jews who know the power of a tzaddik. Two days later, we received a call from the secretary. The King Moshiach Shlita had indicated that she should not go to the hospital for observation; rather, she should arrange for a personal attendant to help her until the birth. After a few days, we received a letter in the mail. The King Moshiach Shlita had sent Nava three dollars, apparently for her and the twins.
The doctor at Long Island Jewish Hospital, an observant Jew, widened his eyes in shock when we informed him that Nava wanted to check out of the hospital and spend the pregnancy at home. “Do you understand what you’re about to do? Do you understand that you’re endangering your wife because of the advice of some rabbi? What does a rabbi know about this?”
Of course, they wouldn’t release us from the hospital until we signed a form declaring that we accept all responsibility for whatever happens. Only after we signed did the doctors agree to release Nava.
Today, I have two children in their 20s, a son and a daughter, alive and well – and it is all in the merit of the King Moshiach Shlita’s blessing.[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][/vc_tta_accordion][/vc_column][/vc_row]