They had witnessed firsthand the far-reaching power of tefillah

“I hereby give him My bris of shalom” (Bamidbar 25:12)

Tehillim (106:30–31) tells us that Pinchas davened and the plague (sent to punish Klal Yisrael for sinning with the daughters of Midian) ceased, and that this deed was deemed for him as eternal righteousness.

Tiferes Shlomo asks: Didn’t Aharon do the same when he terminated the plague after Korach’s rebellion? Didn’t Moshe also accomplish the same when he stopped the plague after Cheit Ha’eigel? Yet we don’t find their acts are considered merits forever.

This difference is that Moshe and Aharon stopped those plagues with a physical act. Aharon took burning Ketores, and Moshe ground the Eigel and sprinkled water on it. What distinguished Pinchas’s tefillah is that the prayer alone sufficed to save the nation (Rav Shmuel Brazil).

It was going to be one of those days. I had an early morning appointment in Beit Shemesh for a root canal. Always fun. Getting out of my dead-end street during school drop-off hours is always a nightmare. As I swerved to avoid a van, I jumped the curb and dented my car. The fun continued. Arriving at the dentist, I closed my eyes and prayed that at least my pain would be a kapparah.

I want to tell you an incredible story. A young mother fell badly and went into a coma. After eight weeks, she was on total life support, and the doctors offered no hope for her recovery.

Desperate to do something, a group of 60 women with close ties to the family went to the beis hachayim Queens, New York where several of the great gedolim of America are buried.

When I finally finished, I headed to the airport. My friend had lost her father and was returning after spending the week in the States, and I’d offered to pick her up.

Then I got a message that her flight was delayed. Now what? It didn’t make sense for me to go back home, so I decided to go to the airport as planned and wait there.

As I got on the highway, all the warning lights on my dashboard lit up. Helloo, Car? I only gave you a dent! No need to overreact!

I breathed a sigh of relief when the lights went off. Apparently, Car decided I needed a break and didn’t break.

Driving along, I suddenly pulled off and exited the highway, possessed by a sharp urge to go to my father’s kever and daven there. While I go to his kever a few times a year, I never do it spontaneously. But between Rav Gershon Edelstein’s levayah the day before, my friend’s loss, and the morning’s events, I was feeling raw and in need of connection.

The group davened fervently. At the sixth kever, they were in the  middle of perek 23 in Tehillim, which says, “Gam ki eilech b’gei tzalmaves, lo ira ra — Even when I walk in the valley of death, I will not fear.” Suddenly, the mother of the comatose woman, who was on the phone, let out a piercing scream. Everyone froze, assuming the worst.

But what had actually happened was that the comatose woman had opened her eyes and begun to speak. Her father, who was at her bedside in the hospital, had offered her a phone so she could call her mother. The mother’s scream was an exclamation of joy.

The rav who was present with the group implored the women never to forget this moment. They had witnessed firsthand the far-reaching power of tefillah.

This isn’t a story that I read. I heard it directly from a person who was there when it happened — my wife.

The cemetery was deserted, silent, and hot. I approached the kever, then suddenly doubled over and began to sob. “Abba! Abba!” I couldn’t stop.

I hate crying. Very emotional by nature, I keep guard over myself, scared that if I open the valve, the tears won’t stop. But here my heart was giving me no choice.

Tefillos and tears poured out of me. I begged my father to be a meilitz yosher for the whole family, for all Klal Yisrael. As my soul emptied, my words took on a deeper meaning. Abba! Abba she’baShamayim!

I left the kever drained and depleted, but comforted, feeling I’d received a hug from my father and my Father.

 (Originally featured in Family First, Issue 850)