The Rebbe encouraged the telling of miracles. Our boy was hit by the train in Jerusalem and B”H lived. * Written in honor of Kislev, a month of miracles.
Outside the Main Sukka in front of the Jaffa Gate in Jerusalem, the light rail train hit our son at approximately 7pm on Monday the 13th of October, Chol HaMoed Sukkos.
We were leaving the concert area after a Chabad gathering of English speakers living in Israel. This was the first time our family had made a trip to Jerusalem after making Aliya 2 months before. The festivities had ended and everyone made their way to the street. In Brooklyn the children never had such opportunities to run free and the taste of Israel’s freedom had lead them to somewhat take their comfort level to an extreme.
Our 3 year old son, Yisroel, ran out in front of us down the stairs and across both tracks of the light rail trains. He did not see that the train was coming towards his direction. Our 8-year-old daughter was standing next to me and my 7 and 5 year old boys were standing behind me. We saw the train coming down Jaffa toward the Old City and we knew Yisroel was in danger. I knew that soon the train coming from the Old City could be on its way as well. Our daughter tugged at me and said, “I can get him, I can get him, I can save him mommy, let me go.”
All I wanted at that moment was for time to stop. I wanted to run quickly and tackle Yisroel to the ground. All my daughter wanted to do was save her brother, but I couldn’t sacrifice my life or hers. So, in that moment, I had to make the most difficult decision of my life.
It was like the Akeida. My youngest child was essentially on the Mizbeiach, and my instincts as a mother were tested to choose between my life, my children’s life, my children’s life with or without a mother and my baby.
The 2 years leading up to Yisroel coming into the world and the year after were impossible times. The test was unbelievable! Our little Yisroel Tzvi Hirsch was our family savior. He brought blessing and sunshine into our home amongst a lot of pain and he eased each day of painful suffering with his happiness. With great mesiras nefesh I nursed our new son and loved him with as much love a woman in my position could give. The word for love in Hebrew is ahava, and I’ve been told the root of the word means to give. My love and bond with Yisroel was stronger than anything I ever felt in my life as I painfully carried him in my womb, birthed him under difficult circumstances and nursed him while sick, sad and suffering.
Here I was on Jaffa Street on a day which was beaming with new beginnings – a new, happy, healthy life in Eretz Yisroel, and our first time in Jerusalem with the kids. We spent the day dancing to the music and taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the Holy City. We made new friends and made a million memorable moments.
At those final seconds before the train came down Jaffa I tried to have telepathy with Yisroel, “Stay where you are, don’t move, stay where you are don’t move, do not move.” I thought I could will him with my prayers not to move but at 3 meters away Yisroel ran out directly in front of the train and was hit head on by the train and all I could do was watch and scream at the air. I held on to my daughter so that she wouldn’t try to save her little brother and went in deep with G-d.
In a flash the bright lights of the train drowned my baby and in that moment that I had already chosen to save my other children and myself I chose to accept Hashem’s will. What could I do – fight the Creator and Master of the whole universe and everything in it including Yisroel and myself? I said to myself, speaking to Hashem, “He is yours, he is not mine, and if that is what You will, then I thank you for the time we had him, this holy tzaddik.” Please don’t think I wanted to accept this and that I was accepting it b’simcha. NO, I was accepting this with bittul! I was accepting my size and weight in the world. I was accepting my role as a servant to Hashem and a shlucha to our great Rebbe. Like any creative person I needed to find a place of healing and I created a place in my mind that was whole, holy and clean. I painted a picture, a story of truth that I saw his soul go up to Heaven and leave this world. I saw that his soul was needed on high and that Hashem desperately needed him back in the upper realms. I understood that as great as he was to us he was greater on high. I began to mourn him because I saw a 32 meter train going at least 12 miles an hour take down my son.
The second he was hit was the same second I painted my picture. It felt like 20 minutes! In the next second we saw that the train somehow just stopped.
Miraculously, after the train hit him it just stopped, completely.
At least a thousand people were there and hundreds witnessed as police, emergency, pedestrians came running to our aid. The train was packed to capacity and all the passengers on the train were thrown from the quick stop. Everyone got off the train and the already busy and crowded street became even more mobbed. People were screaming and hysterical.
Soon thereafter someone passed me Yisroel, and unsure of his condition, I ran with him away from the crowd and away from the street. I was afraid of the worst and that someone would take him away from me for good and all I wanted was to be with him, alone. To see his sweet face and his stunning long eyelashes. He wasn’t moving or making any noise as I ran for cover away from the chaos. I ran and ran and found some stairs and tried to hide but the mob followed me. I sat down, looked into Yisroel’s face, and checked over his whole body. He was in total shock, but B”H, totally fine.
We were sent to the hospital and there Yisroel acted like his usual adventurous self, pulling everyone’s curtains open and yelling, touching all the computers and running around the place like a wild man, not like a kid who was just hit by a train. We went through all the tests and in the morning we went home, back to normal life, B”H.
A lot of emotions surfaced. I sought out answers and closure by contacting the train company. I sent them part of this article, in a much shorter version. It concluded: “We hope to hear from the driver his account of what happened so we can have some closure on this very traumatic but miraculous event that we witnessed. Thank you so much to the driver for being so alert; may G-d protect you and keep you and yours safe. Thank you also in advance for your timely help with this matter. Obviously we wish this didn’t happen, but we feel so blessed to have our little precious son safe B”H, and we feel a tremendous respect and gratitude to the Israeli people for being so concerned and rushing to our aid. “
We got a call this week that we were invited on Thursday at 1pm to come and meet the team that saved Yisroel. It was a month and a half after the day of the accident. We didn’t think about the date, because after all because we aren’t in America anymore. But when we woke up Thursday morning we realized it was Thanksgiving. What Hashgacha Pratis for us Americans to be celebrating Thanksgiving in Israel, giving praise and thanks to Hashem with our brothers and sisters at the Headquarters of the Jerusalem Light Rail.
We were able to meet Nir Moar, the conductor of the train who saved Yisroel’s life. He insisted it was a miracle. He admitted his heart was in his feet when he saw Yisroel dart in front of the train. He said he saw Yisroel, 3 meters before the train hit him and at that point pulled the emergency break. He was able to stop the train in 3 meters, hit Yisroel, but not run over him, chas v’shalom. He reported immediately to the control room that there had been an accident. Nir then got off the train to see how Yisroel was doing because he did not know his condition, while his colleagues in the control room came to the scene and called for help. He asked me, “Do you remember me?” and I did remember his face that night, despite the bright lights and chaos. That night this hero saved my child and this day we praised Hashem together.
There is no distance between him and us. The Rebbe teaches that every Jew is a diamond. Are they ever! His being called “secular” and our being called “religious” – it’s all nonsense! We were a room full of Jews praising G-d for His open miracle at the Headquarters of the Light Rail.
Hashem split the Sea for our entire nation on that day He took us out of Egypt as one, and He split the Sea for our family on that day our son walked away without a scratch after being hit by the Light Rail Train. Everyone present there at Safra Square, religious, not religious, everyone came together to help. We saw at such a time the sheer beauty of Am Yisroel Chai. What a stunning group of selfless, loving, caring, good people. They ran to help us in our time of need, and they screamed in the Holy Tongue to Hashem, “Neis (miracle)!” and to the driver, “Gibor (Hero).” A true nation of love coming together to praise Hashem and His messengers and life!
The words of the V’Al HaNissim prayer, which we say this month, best express or deep feelings of gratitude for this huge miracle: “And [we thank You] for the miracles, for the redemption, for the mighty deeds, for the saving acts, and for the wonders which You have wrought for our ancestors in those days, at this time.”