A Shabbat Story: Rabbi David Abuhatzeira’s Sacrifice and the Miracle That Followed

The narrow alleyways of the Jewish mellah, the old Jewish quarter in the city of Tafilalet, Morocco, were silent. The Jewish residents had locked themselves indoors, too afraid to step outside. This happened exactly ninety-five years ago.

The local governor, desperate to refill his empty treasury, decided to target the Jews. He issued a cruel ruling: if the Jewish community didn’t pay a massive tax by a set date, he would begin executing them one by one.

The Jews of Tafilalet, who had lived peacefully among their Muslim neighbors until then, suddenly became targets of hatred. As they walked the streets, their neighbors made threatening gestures, sliding fingers across their necks with mocking grins. It was terrifying.

At that time, the rabbi of Tafilalet was Rabbi David Abuhatzeira, the son of Rabbi Masoud and grandson of the holy Rabbi Yaakov Abuhatzeira. A man of deep Torah knowledge, holiness, and self-sacrifice, Rabbi David was known for barely eating, sleeping, or drinking. He spent nearly all his time immersed in Torah learning and prayer.

As the decree hung over the heads of his community, Rabbi David withdrew even further. He secluded himself in his room, fasting and pleading with Hashem to cancel the evil decree. Those around him could feel the intensity of his prayers. He was fighting a spiritual battle for his people.

His younger brother, Rabbi Yisrael Abuhatzeira known to the world as the Baba Sali, tried to speak with him. Should the Jews flee? Was it safe to stay? But Rabbi David gave no answer. He stayed silent.

On Friday night, the 14th of Kislev 5680 (1920), Rabbi David entered the synagogue for Kabbalat Shabbat. The congregation immediately sensed that something was different. Instead of wearing the white robe traditionally worn for Shabbat, he came in his weekday black coat. It felt like he was in mourning.

No one dared speak in the synagogue. Everyone waited in silent dread until the end of the prayers. But no one understood the meaning behind the rabbi’s unusual behavior. And no one was brave enough to ask.

At home, during Kiddush, his family also noticed something unusual. The way he recited the blessings felt different like something deep was taking place, something beyond their understanding.

The next morning, soldiers from the governor’s army burst into the Jewish quarter. They arrested Rabbi David and ten respected leaders of the community and dragged them to the city square.

Before a cheering crowd of gentiles, the ten Jewish leaders were whipped. But Rabbi David was given a different fate.

The soldiers tied him to the barrel of a large cannon in the center of the square. Then, at the signal, they fired it.

The shell struck Rabbi David and his soul rose to the heavens.

Those who were there said they saw something incredible: as the cannon fired, it looked as if a pure white dove flew up from the barrel, soaring high above the square. They believed it was Rabbi David’s soul, ascending to the World of Truth.

The gentiles had taken his life, but they never touched his body.

Under the direction of his brother, the Baba Sali, Jewish community members went to retrieve what remained. But to their amazement, they found his body whole and untouched, as if a cannon shell had never hit him at all.

The funeral was held the very next morning, on Sunday. It was quiet and discreet, many Jews were still too afraid to be seen in public. But within days, something miraculous happened.

The decree was forgotten. The governor never spoke of it again. It was as if the entire threat had vanished from his mind.

The Jewish community slowly realized what had happened. Rabbi David had given his life to protect them. Through his self-sacrifice, he had atoned for the entire community.

Sometime later, the Baba Sali had a dream. In it, Rabbi David appeared to him, radiant and at peace. He showed his younger brother the place he had earned in the heavenly world and asked him to stop mourning. His mission had been fulfilled.

This is the power of a tzaddik, a righteous person who lives not for himself, but for his people. Rabbi David Abuhatzeira’s story reminds us that sometimes, even in the darkest moments, light breaks through from the most hidden places.