Kindness in This World… and the Next

In the Israeli city of El’ad, a young mother’s world was unraveling. Her husband had tragically passed away, leaving her alone to care for their many young children. With no income and no family support, she fought valiantly to hold her home together. But despite her strength and faith, the weight became unbearable.

First went the luxuries. Then the basics. Eventually, she couldn’t even cover the rent. Eviction loomed.

Late one night, broken and desperate, she got into her car and drove — tears blurring her vision — all the way to Jerusalem, to the home of Maran Harav Ovadia Yosef zt”l.

It was around 10:30 or 11:00 p.m., well after the Rav’s regular hours for receiving people. When she knocked, his assistant answered and gently explained that the Rav was no longer seeing visitors for the night. “Please come back tomorrow,” he said.

But she couldn’t wait.

With the future of her children hanging in the balance, she stopped the door with her foot and pleaded, “Just tell the Rav that a widow with children is here. If he tells me to come back tomorrow, I’ll go.”

A few minutes later, the assistant returned: “The Rav said to bring you in.”

When she stepped into the Rav’s study and saw Harav Ovadia, all the composure she had forced herself to maintain for the sake of her children came crashing down. She broke down in tears, pouring out her story — the financial collapse, the fear, the children. Everything.

And Harav Ovadia cried with her.

“I feel so terrible for you,” he said with genuine pain. “Let me give you a blessing.”

She thanked him but added, “Kavod HaRav, I didn’t come just for a berachah. I need real help.”

Without hesitation, he asked, “How much is the rent?”

“Four thousand shekel,” she replied.

He immediately took out an envelope, wrote a check for the full amount, and handed it to her. Then he said something even more extraordinary:

“Come back every month. I will take care of this personally.”

And she did. Month after month, for seven years, she came to the Rav’s home. Each time, she received a check — and a blessing — directly from the Gadol Hador himself.

Until the day the world changed.

Harav Ovadia Yosef passed away.

The Jewish people mourned with tears and heartbreak. A spiritual giant had returned to heaven. But in one quiet apartment in El’ad, the mourning was more personal. The woman cried not only for the loss of a leader — but for the loss of her provider, her unseen guardian.

What would she do now?

Once again, she got into her car and drove to Jerusalem, this time to the Sanhedria cemetery. She stood at the grave of Harav Ovadia and poured out her soul. “Who will help me now?” she cried. “You took care of me all these years. What happens to me and my children now?”

She recited the entire Book of Tehillim, tears soaking the pages. Then she returned home.

That night, she had a dream.

Rav Ovadia appeared to her.

“Biti,” he said gently, “didn’t I tell you not to worry? Everything will be okay.”

“But how?” she asked.

“There will be a brit milah this Thursday at 1:00 p.m. at the Beit Yisrael Hall in Yerushalayim. Go there. Find a man named Shalom Saadon. Tell him I sent you. He will help you.”

She woke up shaking. Was it just the emotion of the day? But when the dream returned again the next night — same time, same words — she knew she couldn’t ignore it.

On Thursday at 1:00 p.m., she walked into the Beit Yisrael Hall. She didn’t know anyone. Quietly, she asked around: “Does anyone here know a man named Shalom Saadon?”

Someone pointed. That might be him.

After the ceremony, she sent word that someone wanted to speak with him. He came out to the hallway. She looked him in the eye and said, “I had a dream. Rav Ovadia told me to come here today. He told me to find you. He said you would help me.”

He fainted on the spot.

They rushed to revive him. Water, concern, confusion. When he came to, he asked her to repeat what she had just said. She told him again, from the beginning.

His voice trembled.

“I don’t know anyone at this brit. I’m not family. I had no reason to be here. But for the last two nights, I had the same dream. Rav Ovadia came to me and told me to be at the Beit Yisrael Hall today — that someone would come to me who needed help.”

He paused. Then added, “If the Rav gave you 4,000 shekel each month, then that’s what you’ll continue to receive. Half from him, and half from me. Come back to me every month. I’ll take care of it.”

A Life That Echoes Beyond

The greatest lives don’t end — they ripple forward.

Like Rachel Imeinu, buried along the road to intercede for her children in exile, the truly righteous continue their mission even after their passing.

Rav Ovadia didn’t help this woman to feel good about himself. He made her burden his own. He took responsibility — not once, but for as long as she needed him.

And even from the Next World, he kept his word.

This powerful and documented story reminds us that Tzaddikim never truly leave us. Their souls remain vibrant, their merit alive, their kindness ongoing.

May we walk in their path — with compassion that continues beyond the moment, and care that outlives us all.