Chapter 63

Then we began to travel. On reaching the downward slope of the mountain, we had to wait a quarter of an hour or longer before we could proceed, because of the great number of automobiles arriving from every direction from Tzfas and Haifa. Many British policemen and officers were standing there to maintain order, and so forth. We saw with astonishment that the entire road from Haifa was filled with buses carrying people to Meron, and so forth; there were also many in Haifa itself and along the road to Haifa from Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. Only we were an anomaly, traveling away from there, and so forth.

I then reflected in my heart, ‘Fortunate are you, O Israel!’ How great and exalted is the sanctity of Israel, who believe and cleave through the power of the great and exalted sanctity of Israel, which is without end, and through the merit and power of the tzadik, who possesses the power to rectify the entire world, as he himself said, ‘I am able to absolve the entire world,’ and so forth. Especially on the day of his hillula is his power and might aroused ever more greatly, and all the more so amid the awakening of such multitudes of Jews who come to him in honor of the holy and awesome tzadik, and so forth.

We traveled on the bus, my wife sitting with the child in her arms. With her hand she held pieces of sour lemon in the child's mouth to sustain his life, and so forth. I sat with the other children on a second bench, praying and yearning that we might already reach our home alive and in peace.

Thus we traveled back on the holy and awesome day of Lag BaOmer—on the very day when everyone was traveling to holy Meron and the principal awakening and great public gathering of the day was only beginning, and so forth. Never before had I ventured to leave the inner chamber of the holy tziyun on that day, for in my mind it was a great loss to spend even one moment outside. I would even hesitate to spend a little time in the courtyard amid the great rejoicing, because of the magnitude of my longing and vitality in remaining within, gazing and looking upon the holy of holies—the exceedingly holy and awesome tziyun—and so forth.

Although many people would then go to the other graves of the tzadikim in Meron, and so forth, during those days—Erev Lag BaOmer and Lag BaOmer—I restrained myself from being anywhere other than beside the holy tziyun. Only when my mind became exhausted would I go outside to behold the rejoicing, and on exceedingly rare occasions I would also go to the nearby Cave of Bais Hillel. I would then return immediately with even stronger longing and desire, for once I had gone out I began to feel all the more the loss of being outside even for a single moment.

As I contemplated all this while we were traveling back in haste, as in the Exodus from Egypt, and so forth, and as I looked there, along the road, and at every place through which we passed, at the immense awakening of the holy people journeying there, and so forth—as well as the awakening, yearning, and desire of those who were not traveling, and how they envied those who were, and so forth, and how people marveled at us for traveling back at precisely such a time—as I contemplated all this in my mind, my heart oppressed me because of it. I also thought how my companions were now meriting, throughout all this time, ‘to behold the pleasantness of Hashem and to visit His Sanctuary,’ while I was cast amid such adversities and straits.

More than everything else, our minds and hearts were in distress, amid a gloom of anguish and banished darkness, as we looked upon the affliction of our hearts, which was vast as the sea. We saw our dear and precious child expiring before our eyes, and had almost despaired of reaching our home while he was still alive. Surely the human mind is too small and narrow to comprehend the magnitude of our anguish and the straits of our hearts, to the point of the very expiration of the soul. It was only through miracles from Heaven that my heart was not torn from within me; I was almost bereft of my senses because of the magnitude of the anguish that reached to my very soul.

Thus we traveled on that bus from Meron to Haifa, while the entire road was filled with buses carrying people to Meron, as stated above. When we reached Haifa, the people standing there marveled that we were already traveling back. We remained briefly in Haifa and saw the great commotion of those traveling to Meron and of those arriving from Tel Aviv and Jerusalem to travel to Meron, and so forth. We then continued immediately on that same bus to Tel Aviv. This afforded us some relief, because we did not have to wander from one bus to another with the many belongings we had with us while carrying a child in such danger, and so forth.

Thus we traveled in profound heartbreak and anguish of soul, seeing how the child lay helpless, as though expiring, Heaven forbid, and having nothing with which to revive him, and so forth. His mother merely held a piece of sour lemon in his mouth to sustain his life. The extent of our ‘peace of mind’ may be understood of itself. I sustained myself only with the thought that the breath of life was still within him and that hope yet remained, although I was almost in absolute despair. All the people on the bus saw and observed this, and their eyes expressed pity and compassion for us.

We continued and reached Tel Aviv in great anguish and suffering. We had thought that we would travel directly to Jerusalem on that bus, as the driver had told us in Meron that it was going directly to Jerusalem. In Tel Aviv, however, he told us that it was not going to Jerusalem and that we had to alight and travel to Jerusalem on another bus. This caused us distress. We were compelled to remove our belongings and sacks from the bus and then stand in the queue until we could board the bus traveling to Jerusalem.

We stood in the queue with the sacks and belongings, which was exceedingly difficult for us. We also saw that the queue was long and that we would necessarily have to wait for the second bus. We implored the people to permit us to board the bus, since we were traveling with a child in such danger and could not keep him waiting in the sun, and so forth. The people stubbornly refused to permit us, and however much we pleaded, it did not help.

Only with great difficulty, and through the forceful entreaties of several people who raised an outcry over the fact that we were being left to stand with a child in such danger, did they prevail upon the others to allow my wife, the child, and me to board, while the belongings and the other children were to remain and travel on the second bus. My wife wished to get off the bus rather than leave the children alone with the belongings, but the people aboard would not permit her to descend. Meanwhile the bus departed with us. We suffered great distress because the belongings and children had been left alone, but we could do nothing, as stated above.

We traveled in anguish and suffering, in great fear for the child, and amid great confusion, pain, and grief, for everyone would speak against us for having acted in this manner: we had traveled with a healthy child and brought him back in such a condition, and so forth. The magnitude of our anguish, and of our yearning throughout the entire day merely to see ourselves already home, cannot be measured at all.

Thus we traveled by bus to Jerusalem. It moved slowly and was delayed along the way, until we reached Jerusalem toward evening. We worried how the children would arrive alone with the belongings and how they would bring them home. Yet immediately after we alighted from our bus, the second bus arrived with the children and belongings. We remained standing with the belongings, considering how to bring them home.

We also considered what we would do with the child at home. I was exceedingly reluctant to resort to physicians and greatly afraid of doing so, and we had nothing with which to feed or sustain him, and so forth. My wife, may she live, said that because we were now near the pharmacies, she would go to them to purchase buttermilk (puter milch), since she would not be able to obtain it in the Old City. It was already night; what could we do with the child throughout the night? She went to a pharmacy, but had no money and was compelled to leave some object as security. She obtained a tin of buttermilk. I stood by the Egged station with the child in my arms, together with the children and belongings, waiting for her until she returned to us with the tin of buttermilk.