This Young Man Was Supposed to Die—But Hashem Gave Him More Time

Rabbi Yehezkiyahu Mishkovsky shares a story that deeply moved him—and continues to move everyone who hears it. It happened about 20 years ago, but the message is timeless.

One day, Rabbi Brock, the head of Netivot Olam, a well-known yeshiva in Bnei Brak for those returning to Judaism, called Rabbi Mishkovsky with a painful request. A young student in the yeshiva had passed away after a short and very difficult illness, and Rabbi Brock asked him to deliver the eulogy.

“This young man was incredible,” said Rabbi Brock with great sorrow. “He came from a secular background in the city of Gedera. He was talented, full of life, handsome, and had a unique spark. He had only been learning in the yeshiva for about a year, but in that short time, he became deeply connected to Torah and mitzvot (commandments). Just as he was growing spiritually, illness struck—and after much suffering, he passed away.”

Rabbi Mishkovsky agreed to speak at the funeral. But his heart was heavy. “What can I say to the parents?” he thought. “They aren’t religious. They probably think: ‘We had a gifted son who could’ve succeeded in anything. And then he chose a religious life, and suddenly he became sick and died. How is that fair?’” The questions were painful and real, and Rabbi Mishkovsky didn’t feel he had the strength to answer them on his own.

So he went to see Rabbi Chaim Kanievsky, one of the great Torah sages of our generation, known for his wisdom, clarity, and closeness to G-d. He told the Rav the entire story and asked what he should say.

Rabbi Kanievsky looked at him and answered with calm and conviction: “People see things backwards. This young man—he was supposed to die long ago. But Hashem, in His mercy, gave him extra time, because He knew that if the boy lived longer, he would return to Torah and emunah (faith). So G-d gave him that chance. And once he came close again, Hashem sent him suffering so that he would leave this world completely cleansed and ready for Olam Haba—the World to Come. In truth, the boy gained everything. Without this journey, he would have passed away much earlier, without the merit of teshuvah (returning to G-d). Tell this to the parents.”

Rabbi Mishkovsky accepted the Rav’s words—but still wondered: “I believe this completely. But will the father—who isn’t religious—believe it too?”

At the funeral, before repeating Rabbi Chaim’s message, Rabbi Mishkovsky carefully explained who Rabbi Kanievsky was and how great his understanding of both Torah and the human soul was. Only then did he gently share what the Rav had said.

After the eulogy, a man named Rabbi Noach Hertz came over to him, clearly emotional. “Come,” he said. “Let’s go to the boy’s father.”

When they approached, Rabbi Hertz turned to the grieving father and said, “Tell him.”

And the father, his voice trembling, shared something remarkable.

“Before my son became religious, he was serving in the army. One day, his unit was sent on a dangerous mission—deep into Syria. My son was sitting in the first jeep, ready to go. Suddenly, the commander came over and started yelling at him. ‘Who told you to sit here? Get out! Go to the second jeep!’ he shouted, for no clear reason.

“They switched jeeps. A few minutes later, as they crossed the border, a missile struck the first jeep and destroyed it completely. Everyone inside was killed. My son survived.”

The father paused, his eyes filled with emotion. “I didn’t understand it at the time. But now I do.”

Rabbi Hertz gently said, “You see? Rabbi Chaim knew.”

Rabbi Mishkovsky often shares this story and its deep message: We see life through a narrow lens. Things that look painful—even tragic—may, in Hashem’s greater plan, be acts of mercy and kindness. We don’t always understand in the moment, but our tradition teaches us that everything G-d does is with love and purpose.