Once, when Rav Eizekel of Komarna was traveling, he reached a small village near Kleinwerdayn. He was greatly surprised at the cold welcome he received, so he asked one of the villagers where everyone was. The latter explained that a tragedy had happened, and the whole village was gathered at so and so’s house. There the father lay in bed, in the throes of imminent death, and in the next room cried his eight-day-old son whose bris mila was supposed to take place that day. Sighing sadly, the man continued, “The villagers are all waiting for the father to leave this world so that when they perform the bris they will name the poor orphan after his father.”
Hearing this sad tale, the Komarner immediately told his coachman to hurry to the house. Sure enough, there he found the villagers mourning the coming death and delaying the bris. “Hurry up”, said the Tzaddik, “get ready for the bris – no delay!” So saying, he wrapped himself in his Tallis and sat himself down as sandak, himself performing the bris.
Afterward, he sent one of the villagers with some money and instructions, “Go purchase some bread, herring and wine for the seudas mitzva.” Soon the villagers were seated at the table, unable to refuse the Tzaddik, and they celebrated the bris, while next door the father lay on his deathbed.
Before bensching (the Grace After Meals), their astonishment grew. “And now,” announced the Tzaddik, “please sing Yom LeYabosha (a traditional song at a bris) and let’s dance.” Unable to turn down the honorable Tzaddik, the astonished villagers did as they were told. Suddenly, the father himself stopped making death-rattle noises, and his eyes miraculously opened. “I am cold,” he cried out. “Bring me some clothes.” Soon he was dressed and dancing, celebrating at the bris of his son. The man was healthy all the days of his life.
(Ner Yehoshua).
