During the summer bein ha’zmanim of 5781, R’ Simcha Ausch brought his family to the beach at Yam Hamelach, the Dead Sea. The sight was breathtaking — the desert mountains surrounding the pristine, serene waters. As is the case with bein ha’zmanim, R’ Simcha started chatting with another Yid who’d also brought his family there. When R’ Simcha mentioned that he lived in Komemius, his new friend became suddenly intrigued. “Could you please enlighten me with a story about you famed Rav, R’ Binyamin Mendelsohn? The shemitah year is almost upon us, and I’d like to hear an episode about the Rav who founded Keren Hashmitah (a supportive organization helping farmers keep shmitah).”
R’ Simcha was happy to do so, telling over a personal anecdote:
“About forty years ago, in 5740, my son Ahra’lah, who at the time was a young child, came down with severe dehydration, coupled with a high-grade fever. He wasn’t eating or drinking anything. It was a Friday morning when his situation had gotten serious enough for us to seek medical attention. At the time, there was no doctor in Komemius, so I took him to a local nurse, who examined him and instructed us to head immediately to the ER. ‘If you don’t have your son brought to the local hospital in Rechovot,’ she scared us, ‘by Motzaei Shabbos, you’ll be bringing him to Har Hamenuchos (the cemetery outside Yerushalayim)!’
“Getting to Rechovot from Komemius wasn’t so simple. I ran out to the street, hoping that maybe there’d be a taxi, while my wife headed home with the baby to pack whatever we might need in case we would be detained over Shabbos. Who knows how long we’d be there?! But there were no cars in sight on the roads of Komemius, not even a tractor—only a few horses moseying along the dirt roads.
“I ran out of the moshav to the main road, and Baruch Hashem, I spotted a taxi. I banged on the window and excitedly told the driver that I needed to take my child to the local hospital. ‘I’ll pay you anything,’ I added, ‘just get us there — and fast!’
“The driver, though, didn’t feel any sense of urgency. ‘I’m already taken,’ he said. ‘I was called by R’ Binyamin to bring him to a meeting in Tel Aviv. Wait here, and we’ll see what R’ Binyamin says. If he needs to go to Tel Aviv, then sorry. If not, I’m all yours, and I’ll rush your baby to Kaplan Hospital.’
“Well, and as the saying goes: The Israeli car services don’t fly too quick, they fly too low. The taxi zipped around the block to R’ Binyamin, while I ran to the Rav’s house to be there when the Rav heard the situation. He must have sensed something was amiss when he saw me running toward him. With my heart racing, I explained to the Rav how my dear Ahra’lah had been running a high- grade fever from Wednesday, how the nurse had told us to go to the ER, and how this taxi was the only one in sight. ‘Could the Rav wait for another cab while I take this one to Rechovot?’ I asked him.
“The Rav calmly replied: ‘Es is gurnisht — It’s nothing. There’s nothing to be concerned of. Go home, l’chaim ul’shalom!’
“I figured that R’ Binyamin didn’t understand the severity. I tried explaining to the Rav again how it was potentially pikuach nefesh! How could he be so sure it was nothing and just send me home? But the Rav, in a calming voice, simply replied, ‘I’m the Rav here, and I pasken that there’s nothing to be concerned about. ‘R’ Binyamin then instructed the driver to hit the petal to the metal, and off they went to Tel Aviv. I stood there in shock; the Rav had ‘taken’ the only cab I needed to take my Ahra’lah to the hospital.
“Bemused, I made my way back to the house to figure out what to do. As I crossed the threshold, my wife was waiting for me at the door with a big smile across her face. She was holding our Ahra’lah in her arms as he sipped from a bottle — something he hadn’t done in three days.
“We were very thankful to Hashem for the miraculous salvation that we witnessed. Instead of preparing for a Shabbos in the hospital, we were able to spend our Shabbos in Komemius as normal.”
