November 3, 2015
Beis Moshiach in #994, Tzivos Hashem

By Nechama Bar

“Please, save me! Don’t leave me here!” said the frightened voice on the line.  You could almost hear her fast beating heart.

She stood there, wrapped in her robe, holding a public phone as she fearfully glanced all around to ensure that nobody noticed her.  For years already, she lived in this terrible place, in an Arab village at the ends of Eretz Yisroel.  Oy, how she regretted that foolish move in which she agreed to come here.  But after she arrived, she was no longer able to go back.

Lihi was a regular girl who grew up in an irreligious home.  She went to elementary school and then high school.  She doesn’t know exactly how it happened but one day, an Arab met her and sweetly persuaded her to leave home and join him in his village. 

“It will be better for you there, I promise you.  You will have lots of money, and whatever your heart desires you will get.” She was convinced.

One day, Lihi found herself in Mohammed’s car on her way to the village.  He brought her to his house.  That same day, she was given a covering for her head and face which she had to wear.  At first, it was so strange.  And she was not familiar with Arabic either.

“Perhaps … maybe I made a mistake in agreeing to come here? What about my mother and father and Oren, my little brother? I miss them so much.  They are certainly very worried about me.  And my friends, Hila and Vered, where are you? What are you doing? Maybe studying in peace, chatting, helping out at home?”

This is what she thought now and then, but Mohammed was nice, as he had promised, and he managed to lessen her homesickness.  Then Lihi married him.

Slowly but surely life became hard.  Mohammed stopped pampering her and began demanding things of her that she could hardly do.  Lihi felt like a slave.  She was not allowed to leave the house without permission and of course, she could not speak on the phone.

Eventually, Lihi gave birth to a baby girl.  The girl grew up and attended the Arab preschool.

One day, Lihi felt she could not go on like this anymore.  Then she remembered that there is an organization called Yad L’Achim that rescues Jewish girls from Arab villages.

She miraculously managed to call the organization from a public phone.

“Lihi, don’t worry.  With Hashem’s help we will take you out of there.  Tomorrow night, at midnight, wait at the end of the village.  Write down the number of our license plate so you will recognize our car, and we will take you out.” 

The Yad L’Achim people encouraged her and prepared to rescue her.  They dressed like Arabs and wore keffiyehs. They changed the car’s plates so they would not be identified as Jews and with mesirus nefesh, they entered the Arab village.

Lihi stood there.  She held a bag with some essential items. 

She identified them immediately.  She quickly entered the car and the car zoomed away, to freedom.

They had almost reached the Jewish area when suddenly, they heard the sound of weeping that slowly grew louder.

“Relax, you are out.  That’s that.  We will watch over you and you won’t suffer anymore.”

“No, no!” Lihi managed to utter through her tears.  “My daughter … I have a little girl in the Arab village.  She is Jewish.  I want you to get her out too.”

“You have a daughter back there? Why didn’t you tell us sooner? Why didn’t you wait outside together with her?”

“Because … because I don’t know where she is.  I haven’t seen her in a few months.  A few months ago I told Mohammed that I wanted to go home, to my fellow Jews.  He was afraid I would run away, so that day he took my daughter and hid her.  I have no idea where she is.  Oy, I miss her so much.  You must save her!” And Lihi burst out sobbing once again.

“But how will we know where she is? How will we identify her? Do you have a picture of her? Do you have any idea where she could be?”

“I do not have a picture, but I have an idea where she could be.  I guess they hid her in the preschool.”

Lihi asked hopefully, “Do you know the twelve p’sukim (verses)?”

“Of course,” said Alex, turning around in surprise, wondering how the Rebbe’s twelve p’sukim could be of help.

“Great, then I am sure you will be able to find her.  Go to the preschool, announce the twelve p’sukim and … I am sure that Hashem will help you find her.”

The very next morning, Alex and a friend drove toward the Arab village to rescue the Jewish girl.  They looked like Arabs and spoke Arabic fluently.  Alex went into the preschool while his friend stayed outside.  In the preschool he saw the Arab teacher and little Arab children playing.

Alex motioned to the teacher and said that his friend outside had something very important to tell her.  The friend spoke to her for a few minutes, trying to keep her occupied.  In the meantime, Alex began reciting, “Torah, tziva lanu Moshe … Shma Yisroel … B’chol dor v’dor … Kol Yisroel …”

The children looked at him in surprise.  Who was this man and what was he saying? Suddenly, Alex heard the sound of crying from a corner of the room.  He immediately realized where the sound was coming from; it was coming from the closet.  He opened it and saw a little girl crying.  He knew this was the Jewish child and quickly took her out, brought her to the car, and drove away.

It is hard to describe in words the emotional meeting between Lihi and her daughter. 

Alex was curious to know, “How do you know the twelve p’sukim?”

“When I was a young girl, bachurim used to come to my yishuv and say the twelve p’sukim with us and give out candy.  I went because of the candy but learned the p’sukim.  From the moment my daughter was born, I recited the twelve p’sukim so she would remember she is a Jew.  Now, when she heard the p’sukim, she remembered and cried.  These p’sukim saved my daughter!”

Article originally appeared on Beis Moshiach Magazine (
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