Facing Death at Sea, I Found Hashem—and a New Life

In 2015, a simple trip with friends to Olga Beach nearly became the end of my life—and the beginning of my return to Hashem.

It was around 5:30 PM when we entered the water. The lifeguards had already gone home and the beach was quiet. At first, everything felt normal. But suddenly, I felt a powerful current pulling me deeper and deeper into the sea. Before I realized what was happening, I was far from shore, and the waves were rising above two meters high.

I fought with all my strength for more than 15 minutes, trying to swim back. But the sea was stronger than me. I was completely drained. Realizing I had no energy left, I stopped struggling and focused on simply floating, hoping to survive a bit longer. I could barely see my friends, who were frantically knocking on the lifeguard’s hut, hoping someone might still be there.

Out in the vast water, 1.5 kilometers from shore, I began to accept my fate: I was going to drown. I started swallowing water and felt my strength slipping away. I scanned the water around me, terrified—were there sharks? Jellyfish? Would I vanish into the sea, leaving no trace for my family?

My life flashed before my eyes. All my regrets, all the times I pushed off doing the right thing, the hurt I had caused my parents, the Torah I had neglected—I saw it all. I hadn’t married yet, hadn’t started a family, and now it felt like I would die alone, out in the deep.

And then something opened in my heart.

There, in the middle of the sea, I did teshuvah. I spoke to Hashem with a broken heart, crying from the depths of my soul. I begged Him to forgive me, to let me live. I promised that if I survived, I would dedicate my life to Torah, mitzvot, kindness—and to helping others return to Him.

I cried out to tzaddikim—Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai, Rabbi Meir Baal HaNes—asking them to intercede on my behalf. I vowed to give tzedakah to Hidabroot, to spread emunah by distributing 200 CDs of Rabbi Zamir Cohen’s lectures, and to start speaking in public to inspire others.

Not a minute later, I saw four surfers about 20 meters away.

I shouted with whatever strength I had left, “Help! Help, I’m drowning!” But they didn’t seem to hear. Again I pleaded with Hashem: “Please, let them hear me!” Then I yelled again with a cry that came from the deepest part of me.

Suddenly, one of them stopped and yelled to the others, “I heard something!” They turned around. I saw them coming closer, but they still couldn’t see me. I waved my arm and shouted again: “I’m drowning! Help me!”

One surfer’s eyes locked with mine. He shouted to the others, “There’s someone here!” They paddled toward me through the wild waves.

One of them reached me and tried with all his might to pull me onto his board. I was barely conscious, but with Hashem’s help, I climbed up. Lying there on the board, I whispered over and over: “Thank You, Hashem. Thank You for saving me. I love You. I love You.”

The surfer asked what I was saying. I told him, “I’m thanking Hashem—for sending you.”

They tried paddling toward the shore, but the current pushed us farther out. One of them yelled that in ten years of surfing, he had never experienced anything like this. I realized this was no ordinary moment—and I made another promise to Hashem: I would give even more tzedakah than I had vowed.

The moment I made that promise, my foot touched the seafloor.

I stood up and ran as fast as I could through the water, terrified the sea might pull me back. When I reached the shore, I collapsed and blacked out. I woke up minutes later, surrounded by the surfers, my friends, and paramedics.

The surfers disappeared soon after. To this day, I’ve searched for them and never found them. If anyone knows them, I’d be grateful to reconnect: g0548410272@gmail.com

An ambulance took me to Hillel Yaffe Hospital. The doctor said I had experienced a miracle: despite swallowing seawater, my lungs were clear. After monitoring me and giving fluids, I was discharged a few hours later.

When I got home, my family had set the table with treats and joy, singing “Nishmat Kol Chai” with tears in their eyes. We gave heartfelt thanks to Hashem for the miracle.

Two days later, I fulfilled every promise: I donated to Hidabroot, bought and distributed 200 CDs, and began giving public talks. A month later, I was hired as a rabbi in a prison —fulfilling my dream of helping others connect to their Creator.

Today, I am a marriage counselor and emotional therapist, and every day of my life is dedicated to the commitments I made in those terrifying, transformative moments at sea.

Thank You, Hashem, my beloved Father in Heaven. You saved me, and I will never stop thanking You.