Chapter 82

Thus throughout Tuesday we waited with yearning eyes and performed our devotions through prayer and petition before Hashem, may He be blessed, that He help us, bring our calamity to its conclusion and end, and grant the child a complete recovery. Our souls had already expired from anguish and suffering, and our lives had become loathsome to us. At night I likewise performed my devotions at midnight, as stated above.

On the aforementioned Wednesday of Parashas Korach we likewise performed our devotions through prayer and the sweetening of judgments. My wife, however, did not wish to go again to the clinic to ask Dr. Rabinowitz about the child. She had become disgusted with doing so, since it provided no benefit and only imposed needless exertion. She thought that on the following morning, Thursday, when he came to examine the children at the Tipat Chalav clinic in the Old City—as he did once every two weeks—she would ask him there, for this would be easier than going outside the city and wasting her time for nothing.

On Thursday she went to the Tipat Chalav clinic to ask the physician about the child, while I remained at home. After a time she returned and described the anguish she had just experienced. It had at least served as an atonement for sins; if, God forbid, some decree had rested upon her, and so forth, she had already received her judgment through this.

She told me that she had entered to see the aforementioned Dr. Rabinowitz together with the nurse of the Tipat Chalav clinic. She asked him how the child was. He asked, “Which child?” She answered, “Naftali Horowitz.” He stood there for some time in thought and gave her no answer. She became exceedingly alarmed, for on every previous occasion he had answered her immediately, whereas now he stood there and answered nothing. She asked him again, but he remained silent and gave no reply.

My wife nearly fell to the ground from anguish. She tasted the taste of death, God forbid, for she thought: Who knows what has happened with the child, God forbid? Finally, the nurse from the Tipat Chalav clinic could no longer bear it and cried aloud, “Dr. Rabinowitz, how is the child?” He collected himself somewhat and answered, “The same condition.” My wife returned home and resolved that under no circumstances would she ever again go merely to inquire after the child. She would go only to see for herself how he was, for in this manner they could readily take her soul, God forbid.

In sum, our patience had become too short to wait for our child to recover in the hospital. It seemed almost certain to us that if we took him into our home he would recover more quickly. If he remained in the hospital, who knew how many more months he would continue in such a state? Yet how could one do such a thing? If, God forbid, we did not succeed, we would bitterly regret having taken him home prematurely, and it would not avail us—[the Hebrew here is textually uncertain: חייו, literally ‘his life,’ possibly a corrupt reading of ח״ו, ‘God forbid’].

We deliberated with people concerning what should be done. No one dared find the courage within himself to advise us to take the child home, for they feared to do such a thing and assume such a responsibility. They advised us only to endeavor to give the child chicken broth, broth from fatty meat, or “flesh-strength.”

It was exceedingly difficult, however, to give him this secretly without the hospital staff knowing. If they discovered it, they would become very angry. The wine we gave him, by contrast, was exceedingly valuable. It is likewise brought in the Gemara that wine is medicinal and restores health. It could readily be given in concealment, and we saw that it produced a change for the better. It was therefore certainly necessary to give it to him.

As for the question of taking him home, however, we could establish no counsel within our souls. We walked about literally in darkness, unable to resolve upon one course or the other. Thus that Thursday, too, passed over us like the other days, and we performed our devotions.

On Friday morning, after prayer, I deliberated concerning the matter with Rabbi Avraham Sternhartz, may his light shine. I told him the entire matter and the child’s condition: how he had remained so terribly weak, without any change, for such a long time; how it was clear to us that at home there would be a greater change for the better; and how others had done this and it had produced a favorable result.

I also told him that I was afraid to have the child lying in a hospital outside the city. The war with Italy in Libya had already begun; aircraft were arriving and there were air-raid alarms. People said that the newspapers reported that Yerushalayim would not be bombed. The child would therefore surely be safer in the Old City.

In sum, I spoke with him and told him that I was almost completely resolved to take the child home. He listened to everything but gave me no explicit answer. He merely nodded his head, indicating that I was correct. He would not, however, state verbally that I should take the child home, for he was afraid to assume such a responsibility upon his soul.

I left him likewise without counsel. Within myself, however, I resolved that we would take the child home. We would wait only several more days, perhaps to see some change for the better, or perhaps to find some means by which our circumstances would ease so that we could restore him to health. We knew that our home contained nothing with which to sustain him. We were in such straitened circumstances even with respect to our own needs; how much more so with a sick and weak child, who required money if we were to preserve his life. From where would we take it? We were therefore compelled to wait until we possessed the means to do so.

I thus resolved within myself and spoke with my wife, may she live, telling her everything. She, too, understood that this was correct. We performed our devotions as customary, with broken hearts and yearning eyes—through pidyonos, prayers, Tehillim, and the lots. With heart and within the heart we pleaded again and again before Hashem, may He be blessed, that He at last spare us, have mercy upon our broken hearts, and heal the child, for our power of endurance had already failed: “What strength do we possess, that we should continue to hope?” and so forth.

We surely pleaded during the performance of all the preparations in honor of the holy Shabbos, for it can have compassion; when I went to the mikvah in honor of Shabbos; and particularly when I went to the Western Wall after midday. With a broken spirit I pleaded abundantly, as I also did after reciting Shir HaShirim.

My wife, may she live, likewise pleaded abundantly while preparing the challah and fulfilling the mitzvah of separating challah, while preparing the needs of Shabbos, and especially while kindling the lamps of the holy Shabbos, when she pleaded with actual tears. Afterward she went to the Western Wall to pray Minchah and Kabbalas Shabbos and pleaded abundantly. My younger son, may his light shine, likewise pleaded continually: “Master of the Universe, spare my brother Naftali ben Tzion and have mercy upon him, that he should soon have a complete recovery.”