Who Is This Righteous Man? A Mother's Journey to Rabbi Kaduri

The entire country was in shock. Three young children had tragically died in a terrible car accident. Their parents were divorced, and the children had been traveling to spend Shabbat with their father in central Israel. But they never made it. Instead of returning to their mother, who lived on a kibbutz in the north, their pure souls returned to Heaven.

The mother thought the funeral, where she saw her children buried in the ground, was the worst moment she could ever experience. But the nightmare didn’t end there.

Night after night, the three children appeared to her in terrifying, heartbreaking dreams. They looked deeply pained and appeared in disturbing forms. Though they didn’t speak, they seemed to beg her with their eyes. Again and again, they showed her the picture of a very old man pleading silently for her to go to him.

A month passed. Then two. But her heart found no peace.

One morning, after yet another sleepless night, she went to the small market on the kibbutz. Hoping for some relief, she opened up to the store owner. Maybe he would know someone who could help, some kind of professional who deals with anxiety or troubling dreams.

The store owner listened closely. “What does this old man look like?” he asked gently. She described the man: a bent figure leaning on a cane, with a long yellowish beard, a robe partially covering his face, and a tarbush, a traditional Middle Eastern hat on his head.

The man nodded. “I’m not completely sure, but it sounds like you might be describing a tzaddik (a very righteous person) in Jerusalem. His name is Rabbi Yitzchak Kaduri. He’s a great mekubal, a master of Kabbalah. If your dreams are real, maybe he’s the one your children are trying to send you to. Go to Jerusalem and ask for a blessing. At the very worst, you’ll have spent a day in the city.”

The mother clung to his words like a lifeline. The next morning, she got up early and traveled to Jerusalem. When she arrived, she asked people on the street how to find the home of Rabbi Yitzchak Kaduri, the elderly Kabbalist whose yahrzeit (anniversary of passing) is on the 29th of Tevet.

When she arrived at the house, she met one of Rabbi Kaduri’s assistants and made an unusual request: she wanted to see a picture of the Rabbi before meeting him.

The assistant was surprised. If she had come all this way for a blessing, why was she asking to see a photo? And in this day and age, it’s rare not to have seen the famous face of the beloved Rabbi Kaduri. Still, he didn’t ask questions. He brought her a picture.

What happened next was completely unexpected. The woman took one look at the photo, and then collapsed to the floor and fainted.

Panic broke out. An ambulance was called, and paramedics rushed to stabilize her. Her pulse and blood pressure were all over the place. She was taken to the hospital, where doctors determined she had simply experienced overwhelming emotional shock. A few hours later, she was released.

But she didn’t go home.

Instead, she returned to Rabbi Kaduri’s house. Even though it was already after visiting hours, she stood there weeping, pouring out her heart to the attendants. One of them went inside to tell the Rabbi.

Rabbi Kaduri responded with a kind, knowing smile, the kind that made people feel deeply seen. “Of course, bring her in,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for her for a long time.”

She stepped into his private study, and before she could say a single word, the elder Kabbalist began speaking.

“Your children are in great pain,” he told her gently. “No one is saying Kaddish for them. They didn’t have a chance to do mitzvot (good deeds commanded by the Torah). Hire three Jewish men to say Kaddish, one for each child. Then their souls will find peace.”

The woman followed his instructions faithfully.

One month later, she returned to Rabbi Kaduri’s house with a radiant, peaceful face. She shared that just the night before, she had seen her three children in a dream dancing together with Rabbi Kaduri, smiling with joy and gratitude.

Their suffering was gone. And so was hers.