Rebbetzin Leah Gans
The book “She'al Avicha VeYagedcha” contains an account of a young man who suddenly fell ill. His condition worsened as the illness progressed. At the time, no one yet knew how to treat this disease, and the young man was fading away before their eyes. He was advised to go to the Chafetz Chaim and ask the tzaddik to bless him.
At first, the Chafetz Chaim refused, saying that the healing power of his blessings was not all that great, but the young man kept insisting and weeping. Then the Chafetz Chaim said: “There is a small town far from here. Go there and ask the town's rabbi for a blessing. I am telling you this on one condition: after you recover, under no circumstances are you to tell anyone what I advised you to do.” No sooner said than done. The young man gathered his strength and set out to receive the blessing. It was a long journey—two weeks each way. Upon arriving, he went straight to the town's rabbi without delay. The rabbi was very surprised: “You want me to bless you? The Chafetz Chaim himself sent you to me? That is strange… Who am I to give blessings? But since the Chafetz Chaim himself said so, of course I will bless you.” The journey back took another half a month. By the time he arrived in his own town, the young man had recovered completely, praise G-d.
In time, he married and had children. Years passed. Suddenly, his wife's sister fell ill with the same disease he had suffered from. His wife, who knew what had happened to him before their marriage, asked her husband to reveal how he had recovered. He kept silent and evaded her questions, remembering the condition the Chafetz Chaim had set. But she insisted, as only wives can insist. At some point, he could no longer bear his wife's tears and reproaches, and he revealed the secret to her. When he finished telling the story, he felt unwell—and found himself suffering from the same illness again. The rabbi he had visited back then had since grown old and died. The Chafetz Chaim, however, was still alive, although he was nearing the end of his life and was weak and unwell. Upon arriving before the tzaddik, the protagonist of our story fell at his feet, wept, and begged his forgiveness: he had had to tell his wife the whole truth, he was deeply remorseful, and he was asking the sage to give him another suggestion for a cure. The Chafetz Chaim sighed and said: “Do you think I sent you to a distant town for a blessing and a cure? Throughout those thirty days that you were on the road, I fasted and prayed for you day after day, so that you would be granted healing. [This means that he fasted during the day and ate at night.] The Almighty heard my prayers and healed you. But now I am old and weak, and I do not have the strength to fast for so long. I cannot help you now.”
We see that there were no segulot in this story, only the power of the Chafetz Chaim's prayer. The astonishing power of prayer
In the book “Shorshei HaNiggun,” Rav David Zaritsky (who had himself been one of the students of the Novardok yeshiva) recounts an incident he witnessed. This happened during the Chafetz Chaim's lifetime. One of the young men in the Novardok yeshiva suddenly began gaining weight rapidly. Nothing could stop this process. He grew wider and wider, regardless of his diet or other circumstances. He was taken to the best hospitals, but none of the doctors could explain what was happening to him or make a diagnosis. For twelve years, he suffered and consulted various leading medical authorities, but to no avail. It reached the point where he could no longer get out of bed or move an arm or a leg. His eyes were almost closed by fat deposits on his eyelids. He had to be fed because he could not bring a spoon to his mouth himself. People had to wipe away his sweat and remove crumbs from his bed. He became a helpless, miserable man. He could still move only a few fingers on one hand to show that he was alive.
Everyone felt very sorry for the unfortunate man and wondered in anguish why death would not come to ease his suffering. His fellow yeshiva students were very afraid that the doctors might quietly “put him out of his misery,” so they arranged a round-the-clock watch over him, studying, praying, and reciting Tehillim.
Over these 12 years, various medicines had been tried, and gradually the young man had grown tired of trying—he wanted nothing and was apathetic. But one day, he suddenly wanted to raise his arm and put on tefillin. The friend who was on duty at his side at that moment was very surprised: “You are going to put on tefillin? You cannot even bring a spoon to your mouth! What has gotten into you?”
The poor patient himself was also stunned, but his desire to put on tefillin was so unmistakable and fervent that he continued to insist. Then, trying to prove to himself that he could not even dream of it, he said to himself: “What do you expect?! You cannot even raise your arm to eye level!” But when he tried to do so, he suddenly felt his arm rise easily, as though it were weightless. He raised it above his head. In his astonishment, he “forgot” his arm and left it above his head. Just then, a nursing aide brought in a tray of food. Seeing the previously immobile patient with his arm raised, she dropped the tray in fright, screamed, and ran to summon the doctors. By the time the doctors entered the room, he was already sitting on the bed. A short while later, he tried to stand up, holding on to the bed rails—and succeeded! The doctors could not believe their eyes. It was an unprecedented case. The young man himself could not explain why he had suddenly wanted to raise his arm—where that burning desire had come from.
Some time later, he received a letter. It was from a righteous man who had taken on the burden of collecting donations for the young man's treatment—there was no insurance at the time, and treatment, a hospital stay, and kosher food cost a great deal of money. This man traveled through the towns and villages of Lithuania, raising funds. When he arrived in Radin, he thought that, since he was already there, he should also visit the Chofetz Chaim—perhaps the righteous sage could suggest a path to healing and deliverance for the unfortunate young patient. The Chofetz Chaim asked him to describe the young man in greater detail—whether he studied and how he observed the mitzvot. “Of course, he is a young man from the Novardok yeshiva! He is G-d-fearing and studied Torah with great diligence until these tragic events befell him. Even if he had sins, twelve years of such suffering must have erased them completely!” The Chofetz Chaim asked him to wait, went to a corner of the room, and spent a quarter of an hour praying and weeping, asking for mercy for the poor patient. Then he turned around and said: “Tell him that he will merit a complete recovery, with G-d's help.” The visitor looked at his watch and noted the time. In the letter, he recorded what time it was when the Chofetz Chaim turned to him. It turned out that, at the very moment the Chofetz Chaim began praying, the young man felt a burning desire to raise his arm and put on tefillin, and a quarter of an hour later, when the Chofetz Chaim finished praying, the young man stood up. The timing was astonishingly precise!
Such is the power of the prayer of a sage and a righteous person. But our prayers, too, have a power beyond comprehension.
Here is another story from a Jewish weekly. It was written down by the father of a ten-year-old boy. He writes about his son, a gifted, intelligent boy whose classmates at cheder were, for some reason, harassing him without any apparent cause. The father went to speak with the rebbe and the principal, and consulted a family counselor specializing in parenting. Eventually, the entire teaching staff concluded that the children who were picking on his son were simply ill-mannered, and there was nothing to be done. “Try moving him to another class in the same grade.” The boy did not want to switch classes, since he was already familiar with these troubles, but what would happen in the new class? Might it be even worse?
All of this had a negative effect on his character. He withdrew into himself, interacted less with his peers, and used any excuse to stay home and miss cheder. The boy's father spoke to the children themselves, but it did not help. He tried everything, yet the problem remained unresolved. In utter despair, the boy's father began sleeping poorly at night, wondering what else he could do and how he could help his son.
Then, one day during Shabbat Musaf, these words caught his attention: “Satisfy us with Your goodness and gladden us with Your salvation.” The words seemed to awaken him. He had read them before—on the previous Shabbat, for example—but they had not affected him so deeply then. At that moment, he thought: “Almighty! I have done everything I could, and I do not know what else to do. There is not a single avenue I have not tried. I am handing this matter over to You. You are the L-rd—the Almighty, the Master of all powers. Only You can put this situation right.”
That very Shabbat, a boy from the class invited his son to Tehillim. Toward evening, another boy invited him to study with him in a chavruta. In an instant, his son became accepted in the class, and the other boys began interacting with him as well. This happened all at once, over a single Shabbat, rather than gradually.
Throughout the time the boy's father was seeking help on earth—from teachers, the principal, and a parenting counselor—the problem remained unresolved. Only when he fully “handed his case over” to the Master of the universe and turned to Him in heartfelt prayer did everything suddenly move forward and take a turn for the better.
Rabbi Ben Zion Abba Shaul was a great Torah scholar and the head of the Porat Yosef yeshiva. In 1983, he suffered a severe stroke from which, in the doctors' opinion, he would never recover. The doctors gave him four hours to live. When someone rushed to seek a blessing from the Steipler (Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael Kanievsky), the Steipler smiled upon hearing the doctors' prognosis and said that doctors decide nothing in this world; everything depends on “Tefillat rabbim,” the prayer of many people. Many people prayed for Rabbi Abba Shaul, and he regained consciousness and gradually recovered from his partial paralysis as well. In gratitude to the community for praying for him, the rabbi added another class to his regular classes, thus repaying a debt of gratitude to those who had restored his life. The rabbi recounted that, while he was between life and death, he saw himself from outside his body, lying on a bed. On one side, angels held the bed and pulled it toward themselves, upward. On the other side, people—the prayers of people—held the bed and pulled it back down to earth. “And you defeated the heavenly host,” Rabbi Ben Zion Abba Shaul would say.
The prayer of many people can defeat the heavenly host. The prayer of one person can change the entire world.
Rabbi Yitzchak Zilberstein recounted that he once received a letter from the students and teachers of a seminary. They tearfully lamented that the young women's shidduchim were being delayed—in other words, they simply could not find their other half. Some graduates were already getting older, yet were still single. What should they do?
Seeing the pain in every line of the letter, Rabbi Zilberstein felt unable to resolve such a question on his own and turned to his father-in-law, Rabbi Yosef Shalom Elyashiv. Rabbi Elyashiv replied: “I have no advice in this case—only to pray.” Rabbi Zilberstein also approached Rabbi Aharon Yehuda Leib Shteinman. Rabbi Shteinman said: “Ask them how many times they have already prayed.” Rabbi Zilberstein replied that the young women had prayed a great deal and were in despair. Rabbi Shteinman responded: “Tell them about Ovadiah's wife, how much she prayed. [The wife of the prophet Ovadiah turned to the prophet Elisha ‘with a cry,’ asking for help, because her righteous husband had saved, hidden, and fed one hundred prophets so that the wicked Queen Jezebel would not kill them. This ruined him financially, and he was forced to borrow a large sum of money. When he died, the creditor came to collect the debt and demanded that the impoverished woman give him her children as slaves in payment. She did not want to hand her children over to a wicked man and asked Elisha for help in paying her debts. Elisha asked her what she had in her home. She had a small jug of oil left. He told her to prepare many vessels and ask the neighboring women for more. Then she was to go home, close the door behind her, and pour the oil from her vessel into all the vessels she had gathered. The oil ran out only when all the vessels were full.] The Midrash tells this story, but does not say how many prayers this unfortunate, righteous woman offered—265, corresponding to the gematria of the word tzeakah (צעקה), ‘cry.’ Perhaps these young women have not yet prayed enough. Let them keep praying, and deliverance will come.”
It often happens that we pray for a long time for something important, yet it still does not come. We ask and ask; we are tired of asking, have already “run dry,” and have lost hope. But perhaps we have not yet crossed a certain “threshold” of prayers that must be reached for the Almighty to respond. We must not despair.
Moshe Rabbeinu asked the Almighty to allow him to enter the Land of Israel. He offered 515 prayers for this (the gematria of the word ואתחנן—va'etchanan). Moshe continued praying even though the L-rd Himself had told him that He had sworn Moshe would not cross the Jordan. Yehoshua had already been appointed his successor. Yet if he had prayed just one more time, the Almighty would have changed creation to allow him into Eretz Yisrael.
We must never despair. Perhaps all that is missing is a single prayer with kavanah for the “threshold” to be crossed and for the Almighty to change creation for us, to split Yam Suf—to find us a match, heal a sick person, provide a steady income, and bring peace to the home. We must keep praying.
Prepared by: Mrs. Zissi Skarzhinskaya