A Dream Beyond: My Son's Extraordinary Return

In a touching narrative shared by renowned teacher Rabbi Avraham Mordechai Segal, the story unfolds as recounted by the late Rabbi Chaim Tovi, a revered philanthropist. Rabbi Segal retells: "In a quaint village not far from Paris, filled with kind-hearted Jewish residents, I once had the privilege to spend Shabbat. During the morning service, I visited Rabbi Chaim Tovi's home and noticed something unusual: a sealed brick rectangle behind a curtain.

"When I inquired about it, Rabbi Tovi was initially too moved to speak, but then he began his tale. 'I lived in Israel for several years before coming here to connect Jews with their faith. The picturesque village you see now was spiritually desolate then, with no synagogue or educational institutions. Slowly, with divine help, we established a synagogue, schools, and raised spiritual awareness in the community.

'Despite all these developments, we lacked a mikveh, which was a significant inconvenience. Community members had to travel to Paris, a long journey, for purification rituals. Deciding to remedy this, I built a mikveh in our backyard, funded entirely from our own resources. The bricks you asked about cover a window leading to the mikveh. For three and a half years, I labored over its construction, ensuring it met the highest religious standards by consulting with rabbis at every stage. Once complete, it became a spiritual asset for the village people, deepening their commitment to holiness and purity.

'Because the mikveh was on our property, we kept it locked to ensure the children's safety. We were vigilant, thank Hashem, no one was harmed—except once, and this is the story I need to tell you.'

"'Before the mikveh's completion, we were blessed with nine sons, yearning intensely for a daughter. Hashem, in his kindness, sent us a tenth son, whom we named Shlomo. From his birth, I had an uncommon affection for him. My wife and I were deeply bound to him.'

'One Shabbat afternoon, Shlomo's mother went searching for him and couldn't find him. Calling his name yielded no response. To her horror, she discovered the mikveh door open. Tragically, our beloved Shlomo had descended to immerse himself and had ascended to the heavens.

'Can you imagine our anguish? He was our most cherished child, bound to us in indescribable love, and losing him was unbearable. My grief seemed unending, mourning the light he had brought into our lives. Yet beyond the sorrow, a great perplexity gnawed at my soul. Why did Shlomo have to leave this world in such a way?

'The Talmud tells of Nechunya, who dug water cisterns for pilgrims, only for his daughter to fall into one. Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa assured her survival, confident that no disaster befalls the righteous's endeavors. I had constructed the mikveh for all of Israel with immense dedication, sacrificing comfort and wealth to increase holiness and joy before the Creator. How, then, could this tragedy be my reward? After the disaster, I sought solace from esteemed rabbis in France and Israel. While they offered condolences, I found no comfort.

'One night, as I slept, a man with bright eyes and a white beard appeared, saying – "Dad, calm down!" Unsure, I asked, "Who are you? By your appearance, you could be my grandfather." The old man replied, "I am your Shlomo, and let me reveal my true identity.

'I was one of the Tosafists and was martyred for sanctifying Hashem's name in France. Upon entering the heavens, I gained access to all realms, as those martyred for faith are granted special privileges, beyond the honors I earned in this world. I roamed the upper worlds, basking in divine glory, until I reached a sacred hall. There, I was denied entry because even though I perished sanctifying Hashem, this hall required immersion in a mikveh before burial, and I hadn't been. I was interred with my blood-stained garments without purification. I was informed that the only remedy was to return to life for another immersion.

'They sought a suitable mikveh for my return. The privilege fell to you, dear father, who sacrificed selflessly to build it. Born into your home, I lived my short life. Now, having immersed, I can roam all celestial realms freely.'

'Know, dear father,' continued Shlomo, 'it was extremely difficult to descend here to console you, but for three reasons I came: First, to express gratitude, as gratitude is esteemed in the heavenly realms. Second, to illustrate the immense value of communal merit. Lastly, to fortify Israel with the understanding that everything unfolds with purpose. Often, the greatest sorrow conceals the greatest blessing.

'In case you wake questioning the dream's truth, I offer two signs: Remember, at eight months, I faced life-threatening organ failure, yet spontaneously recovered without medical intervention. For the second sign, observe the mitzvah of challah, and soon you will be blessed with a daughter.'

'Awakening from the dream, the rebbetzin excitedly shared that she, too, had a dream of Shlomo telling her observing challah would lead to a daughter.'

'The Rabbi finished his story with tears in his eyes, pointing to his four-year-old daughter, saying – "Behold, this is the daughter we were blessed with, by divine grace, following nine sons."

Excerpted from the magazine 'B'Hashgacha Pratit'.