3 years ago

What The Rebbe Told The Angel Of Death

My name is Levi Yitzchok Friedman, and I live in the west of America. In Adar 2020, I got Covid. At first, it wasn’t so bad and I just felt like I was sick. But then, I started having trouble breathing. Usually, you don’t realize when you breathe. It’s just a natural thing that your body does. But for me, every breath I took became a struggle. I knew it was time to call Hatzalah • By Baila Brikman, Beis Moshiach Magazine • Full Story

Baila Brikman, Beis Moshiach

It’s no fun getting Covid. It’s even less fun when it makes you so sick that you have to rush to the hospital.

My name is Levi Yitzchok Friedman*, and I live in the west of America. In Adar 2020, I got Covid. At first, it wasn’t so bad and I just felt like I was sick. But then, I started having trouble breathing. Usually, you don’t realize when you breathe. It’s just a natural thing that your body does. But for me, every breath I took became a struggle. I knew it was time to call Hatzalah.

They came to my house right away to check my vitals. They checked my temperature first, and then they checked how fast my heart was beating and how high my blood pressure was. The results didn’t look good, so they rushed me to the hospital.

Everything happened so quickly. As soon as I got to the hospital, the doctors gave me a medicine that would put me to sleep. Then, they hooked me up to a ventilator, which is a machine that helps you breathe.

For 18 long days, I was in what is called a “medically-induced coma”, and I was sound asleep. My family sat at my bedside, but I didn’t know that they were there. I wasn’t really aware of what was happening, and it was a very scary time for everyone. They didn’t know if I would live or not, chas v’shalom.

At one point during those dark days, I suddenly woke up for a few minutes. It was the strangest feeling—I felt like I was outside my body, looking at myself from above. I looked around the hospital room and wondered why I was there. I couldn’t remember anything! I saw wires and tubes all over my body, and then I saw someone coming towards me.

I don’t know how I knew, but I realized that it was the Malach Hamaves, the Angel of Death. He was coming to take my neshama out of this world! I shivered from fear. I thought about my wife and children. How could I die now? They would be left all alone, and I wouldn’t be at any of my children’s weddings!

The Malach Hamoves came closer and stood right near me, on my left. At this point, I felt like I was back in my body. I turned to him and said, “I won’t go with you unless the Lubavitcher Rebbe says that I can go with you!” I don’t know how I had the guts to say that, but that’s what I said!

All of a sudden, time froze and the room became very dark. It was very scary. The room became freezing cold, more cold than I had ever felt. My teeth started chattering. A little light appeared on my right, and I realized that the Rebbe was standing right there! He said three words. The first was a word that referred to the Malach Hamaves. The second words were: “Nisht yetzt—not now.”

I was in shock. The Rebbe had just told the Malach Hamaves that now wasn’t the right time to take back my neshama! I turned to my left to see his reaction, but the Malach Hamaves was already gone. I turned to my right to thank the Rebbe, but he was gone too. I didn’t have so much time to think about the incredible miracle I had just seen, because I slipped back into my coma and became unconscious once again.

Sometime later, I awoke from my coma. This time though, it wasn’t just for a few minutes. It was for good! The doctors told me that it was a miracle, because during the last 18 days, they had almost lost me twice. In Nissan 2020, I was finally able to go home. You can’t imagine what a welcome I got! Everyone was ecstatic! I was alive!

For the next while, my body remained freezing cold from the time that the Malach Hamaves was next to me. No matter how many blankets I piled on top of me, it didn’t help. It took almost two months for my body to start feeling warm again.

In Nissan 2021, exactly one year after I came home from the hospital, I made a seudas hoda’ah to thank Hashem for the miracles I experienced. There, I shared my story publicly for the first time. Even though I’m more of a private person and don’t like making a big deal about things, I knew that I had to share this story to thank Hashem and to inspire other people.

I feel an extra special connection to the Rebbe now, and I started to write to the Rebbe much more often. Every time I have to make an important decision, I write a letter to the Rebbe and fax it into the Ohel. One time, I wrote to the Rebbe about a job offer I got. If I would accept it, I would have to travel for a long time every day, which would take a lot of energy that I didn’t have.

After I sent my letter to the Ohel, I opened up an Igros Kodesh, a book of letters from the Rebbe. On the page that I opened up to, the Rebbe wrote, “Regarding the issue of parnassa that you wrote about, you should look for something easier—not harder.” I understood from this that I shouldn’t accept the job, because it would be too hard for me.

I know that the only reason I’m alive today is because of the Rebbe. Although the past two years have not been easy and I still have a lot of recovering to do, I feel that every day is a gift. I try to use each day fully and do as many mitzvos as I can, because I am so grateful that I am alive to do them.

Let me share with you one more story.

A month or two before I got Covid, I went to shul to daven Shacharis. Usually, there are 2 or 3 people collecting tzedaka, but that day, there were about 7 or 8. I usually keep a bunch of dollar bills in my tallis bag so I could give each collector, so I started giving a dollar to each one that came over to me.

Each one told me their sad story. One needed to pay for his child’s wedding, one had lost all his money and was very poor, and another had a sick child with a lot of medical expenses. When the last tzedaka collector came over to me, he didn’t tell me any story. He just said, “Tzedaka, tzedaka, tzedaka.” It was different than what the other collectors had told me, but I didn’t pay attention to it. I just stuck my hand into my tallis bag to get a dollar, but I realized that I didn’t have any more.

I showed him that I didn’t have any more, and he stared at me hard. Then he moved on, and I didn’t think much of it.

A month and a half later was when I got Covid. As I lay in my hospital bed in a coma, attached to a ventilator, I had a dream:

I was walking through the streets of Yerushalayim when I heard someone yell, “Tzedaka, tzedaka, tzedaka!” I turned around to see who it was, and it was the same person who had been in shul! He was staring at me in the same way, so I reached into my pocket to give him some money… but I didn’t have any pockets! I felt horrible, and then the dream was over.

If that was it, I wouldn’t be telling you this story. But I kept having this dream again and again! On the fourth or fifth time, I couldn’t take it anymore. Standing on the streets of Yerushalayim, I looked up to the sky and said, “Hashem, I will try much harder to give tzedaka and influence others to also give. Please, make these dreams stop!”

That was the last time I had that dream. By telling you this story, I am fulfilling my promise to share the message of giving tzedaka. Gedolah tzedaka she’mekareves es ha’geula—through giving tzedaka, we will greet Moshiach!

*name changed for privacy.

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