Forgiveness Unlocked A Miracle

Rabbi Yisroel Brog shared the following story:

For eleven heartbreaking years, a couple in Israel prayed for a child. They tried everything — the best doctors, the most fervent tefillot, visits to kivrei tzaddikim — but the blessing of a child never came. Every doctor told them the same thing:

“Without a miracle… there is no hope.”

Still, they refused to stop believing.

Then one day, a friend asked the wife:

“Have you gone to the mekubal in the north? People say incredible things are happening there.”

She tried calling, but couldn’t get through. Determined, she told her husband:

“I can’t wait anymore. I’m going to see him.”

He insisted on accompanying her.

When they arrived, they saw a long line of people waiting anxiously outside the rav’s home. The gabbai asked whether they had an appointment.

“No,” they admitted, “but our situation can’t wait even one more day.”

To their shock, they were told:

“The Rav will see you shortly.”

A few minutes later, they were sitting in front of the mekubal. His face radiated calm and holiness. He listened to their entire story without a single interruption: the years of tears, of disappointment, of shattered dreams.

After they finished, he sat quietly, deep in thought. The silence felt heavy.

Then he asked one chilling question:

“Did your father have an older sister — a widow — who once lived in Johannesburg?”

The husband turned pale. “Yes… I remember visiting her as a child. But she was very sensitive. Once she yelled and threw me out of the house.”

The rav nodded gently.

“She is a broken woman — childless, widowed young. Her heart carries deep pain.

The last time you left her home, she cried out in hurt.

The tears of a broken heart rise straight to Heaven.”

He looked directly at them:

“There is a kpeida — a spiritual grievance — in Shamayim.

If you want children, she must forgive you.

And she must write it clearly — that her heart is clean.”

They left stunned — but determined to act.

The husband called his aunt immediately. With a trembling voice he begged for forgiveness. Her response was sharp:

“I don’t forgive easily. And those who hurt me… pay the price.”

She hung up.

Their hearts sank.

But the wife looked at her husband and said:

“We’re going. Right now. We have to show her we mean it.”

It was just days before Pesach. Flights were expensive. The timing was terrible. But nothing would stop them.

Within four days, they landed in Johannesburg.

They went straight to her home. When she opened the door and saw them standing there — exhausted, emotional, pleading — everything changed.

“You came all this way… just for me?”

They begged forgiveness once more. Finally, her heart softened.

“Yes,” she said. “I forgive you.”

Then she insisted they stay with her for the entire Pesach. It was intense and emotionally draining — but they stayed. They expressed gratitude every moment they could.

As soon as they returned to Israel, they rushed back to the rav.

His face lit up with a smile:

“This year, you will have a child.”

And he was right.

The very next Pesach — the Hebrew year תשנ״ט — they welcomed their miracle:

A baby boy named Yisroel Meir.

Their home, once silent, overflowed with laughter and light.

The mother later reflected:

“Never underestimate the pain of another Jew. A single unresolved hurt can block blessing — and one sincere act of forgiveness can reopen the gates of Heaven.”