Envisioning Revival
Father, zy”a, used to ask me to accompany him on his many trips to Morocco, where he would visit the graves of the tzaddikim buried in Casablanca. In 1976, we were on one such visit, when news came in that a terrible tragedy had occurred in Eretz Yisrael, in which three people were killed and two were in critical condition. One of these was my brother, Avraham, shlita, who hovered between life and death.
Earlier that morning, before the accident even occurred, Father woke me up and nervously asked how long the ride would take from our lodgings to the Casablanca cemetery. We had to get to the grave of Rabbi Chaim Pinto, his father, as quickly as possible.
Not knowing what the rush was all about, all I wanted to do was turn over and get some more shut-eye. Half asleep, I asked Father if we could wait to travel until after Shacharit. But Father asserted that if we waited, it would be too late. Our entire trip would be for naught.
After hearing that, I was fully awake. I jumped from the bed into my clothing and quickly prepared for the ride. We made our way to the Casablanca cemetery with a few other people. When we finally reached the grave of my holy grandfather, Rabbi Chaim Pinto, zy”a, Father poured out his heart in supplication on behalf of his son, Avraham. His prayers reached a crescendo as he cried out, “Ribbono shel Olam! If my son, Avraham, is destined to die, chas v’shalom, I will not fulfill my promise to return to Eretz Yisrael.” He shouted from the depths of his heart, his words echoing throughout the countryside.
I stood among the tombs, still as stone. I could not fathom the reason for such a prayer. Father would generally pray on behalf of Mother and then for each of his children, according to their ages. Why did he begin his prayers with Avraham, who is ten years younger than me? The residents of the locale were also stunned by this unusual prayer. They asked me what had happened to my brother, Avraham, but I could not satisfy their curiosity. At the time, I had no clue as to what was happening in the Holy Land.
Due to problems with communications, it was only many hours later that we were notified that my brother had survived a horrific car accident and lay in critical condition. But Father had known exactly what was transpiring with my brother, in spite of the distance between them. Early in the morning, even before the accident had happened, he knew what was about to occur. That was why he insisted on going so soon to his father’s grave to pray on behalf of his son.
Throughout the day, I tried getting information, via France, about my brother’s condition. I wanted to know what exactly had happened and how he was doing. After I had my information, I hurried to relay it to my father. When I told him everything I knew, he replied, “I knew that a harsh decree was hovering over your brother’s head. That was why I was so intent on praying for him early in the day. But I am distressed over the fact that my prayers were only partially accepted. Three fellow Jews were killed in the accident. Now it is our obligation to remain near the grave of Rabbi Chaim Pinto, zy”a, until Avraham recovers. If we return now, he will not make it.”
Avraham lay unconscious for many long weeks. Mother phoned frequently, begging us to return to Eretz Yisrael. Avraham’s condition was very bad. But Father refused to return. Every day, he would visit the grave of my grandfather. He would arouse the merit of the tzaddik on behalf of my brother, Avraham, asking Hashem to cure him from his injuries and bring him back to perfect health.
In Eretz Yisrael, Rabbi Meir Abuchatzeira, zy”a, paid a visit to my brother. He asked that Father be notified that he should continue awakening Heavenly mercy for his son in his ancestors’ merits, and only afterward, should he return to Eretz Yisrael.
More weeks passed. One day, Father suddenly decided it was time to return home. He told me, “David, B’ezrat Hashem, this coming Thursday, we will fly to Eretz Yisrael. We will be able to speak with Avraham when we get back. Meanwhile, prepare travel tickets.”
I called to tell Mother of our homecoming, and I added Father’s words that, B’ezrat Hashem, when we would return, we would be able to speak with Avraham. Mother, who had spent so much time these past few weeks with Avraham, and had heard the doctors’ dire prognosis regarding his slim chance of recovery, was very happy to hear that we were returning home. But she could not believe that we would be able to carry on a conversation with Avraham in the near future.
That Thursday, when we returned to Israel, Avraham began showing signs of life. He woke up and asked for a drink. This was after lying unconscious for many weeks and undergoing countless operations.
When Mother saw the amazing miracle taking place, she understood the potency of the holy prayers of Father at his ancestors’ gravesites. It was these prayers that pulled their son back from the brink of death. She no longer felt resentment for our extended visit abroad while she had sat alone by the bed of her ill son.
There is no doubt that Father’s far-reaching vision and the Divine Spirit which rested upon him were in the merit of his total immersion in Torah. Words of Torah constantly coursed from his mouth, as though from a flowing stream. He was always steeped in Torah and would quench his spiritual thirst with its life-giving waters.
