By Rabbi Yerachmiel Tilles
It was on the day before Rosh Chodesh Tammuz, in the final month of the devout elderly chasid Rabbi Naftali Zvi Goldberg's life. Originally from Reitzpert, Hungary, he lived now in Jerusalem. Feeling that his days in this world were numbered, Rabbi Naftali Zvi called for his grandson, Shlomo Zalman Goldberg, then a young man.
"My dear grandson," he asked, "do you know what the name Tammuz stands for?" The boy stayed silent, and the grandfather continued, "Tammuz is an acronym for Zemanei Teshuvah Memashmeshin U'ba'im - 'the Times of Repentance are Drawing Near.' So we must begin to repent. And since I feel that my end is near, I want to share with you a story that happened many years ago. Until now, I've kept it secret. But before I go to the World of Truth, I want to pass it on to you, so you can share it with future generations."
"For many years," he began, "I dedicated the months of Elul and Tishrei to serving the Creator. During that time, I would leave my home, disconnect from the distractions of the world, and sit at the gravesite of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai in Meron. There, I would immerse myself in Torah study and prayer.
"One year, I was in Meron, wrapped in a tallit and adorned with tefillin, studying Torah with a partner in the large hall between the graves of Rabbi Shimon and his son, Rabbi Elazar. Since we were alone at the time, we locked the doors to avoid unwanted visitors - especially shady characters who sometimes wandered through the area.
"As we sat there deeply engrossed in study, we suddenly heard a sound from above. We looked up, and to our shock, saw two bedouins lowering themselves through the small window in the ceiling. They were armed with swords and wore boots with sharp metal soles. Just seeing them was enough to strike terror into our hearts.
"We froze.
"We well understood the danger threatening our lives. Their appearance and the way they entered left no doubt about their evil intentions. Running was not an option - they would catch us instantly. Screaming wouldn't help either; no one would hear us. In another few moments, they'd be upon us. Our minds raced, searching for a way to escape.
"After thinking for a second, I turned to my friend and said, 'Whatever happens to us is in Hashem's Hands. But at the very least, we must protect our tefillin from becoming defiled by these heathens.'
"In one corner were extinguished coals that we had used to cook our meals. We quickly jumped up, removed our tefillin and hid them among the coals.
"Right after that, we each retreated into a different corner of the room and began saying Vidui (confession) and reciting Shema Yisrael with intense focus. Without realizing it, I let out a heavy sigh, overwhelmed by what we were about to face. It was hard to accept that such a tragedy would strike us specifically here, in this holy place, in the shadow of the great Tzadik and sage, the saintly Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai.
"As I prayed, thoughts swirling in my mind, I suddenly felt as if two strong hands gripped my waist and lifted me up. The next few seconds went by in a blur, but the next thing I knew, I was standing on a hill with my partner there beside me, looking down at the tomb of Rabbi Shimon.
"We stood there silently for several minutes, stunned, looking at each other. We were still shaken by the fear of what had almost happened, unable to grasp yet at the same time in awe of the miracle we had just experienced. We realized that we were saved by the merit of Rabbi Shimon, who performed salvations in his lifetime and no less after his passing.
"After we regained our composure, we hurried to the nearby village, where Rabbi Yochanan the Sandal Maker is buried. We sought out the Arab merchants who lived there that had befriended us when we shopped for food. We told them what had happened.
"The Arabs quickly formed a group and headed to the gravesite, hoping to capture the two bedouins who had dared break into a holy place and tried to harm us. But by the time they arrived, the intruders had vanished without a trace."
Rabbi Naftali Zvi ended his story, leaned forward towards his grandson, and added: "Right after the incident, my friend and I resolved to keep the whole episode a secret. We didn't want our names to be associated with stories of miracles and wonders, nor did we want people to think we had special powers. But now, in my final days, I feel it is my duty to share the story, so that everyone will know the holiness of Rabbi Shimon's resting place."
Less than a week later, on the 6th of Tammuz, Rabbi Naftali Zvi Goldberg passed away in Jerusalem and was buried on the Mount of Olives. His gravestone is inscribed [in Hebrew]:
Here lies the devout and distinguished chasid, diligent in Torah study and prayer, God-fearing, Rabbi Naftali Zvi, son of the renowned chasidic sage, a holy man of God, our teacher Rabbi Ze'ev Wolf, head of the Rabbinical Court of the Reitzpert community in Hungary, and student of the holy Rebbe, Rabbi Yitzchak Isaac of Kaliv. His eternal rest is in Tzfat.
Reprinted from an email of KabbalaOnline.org.
