Haftarat Parshat Vayera: Coaxing Divine Miracles to Heal our Wounded

As Israel’s hospitals continue to treat thousands wounded in the war, a story from this week’s haftara, of Elisha and the Shunamite woman’s son, offers powerful lessons about healing, miracles, and our responsibilities to the injured.

A desperate Shunamite woman races to find the prophet Elisha, the same prophet who had blessed her with the miracle of motherhood – but now that young son lies lifeless on his bed. When Elisha arrives at her home, he does something unexpected. Instead of merely uttering prayers or blessings from a distance, he takes direct action: he climbs up onto the bed and lies down on the boy, breathing over him until warmth returns to the child’s body. Gradually – miraculously – the boy regains his breath and life returns to him.

Elisha’s choice of healing method, mirroring that of his teacher Eliyahu in I Kings 17, is puzzling. When the son of a widow in Zarepta fell ill, Eliyahu similarly stretched himself over the boy’s body and prayed to God until the child revived. The need for Elisha to press his own face and body against the Shunamite child is not immediately clear from the story in our haftara. To address this, Rav David Kimchi (Radak, II Kings 4:34) offers two interpretations, each with insights that resonate today as we grapple with our own wounded.

One of Radak’s interpretations is theological. He writes that while God’s power and abilities know no limits, it is still the divine preference that even when particular moments in human history call for divine intervention, events should still unfold with as little divergence from the natural order as possible. In this reading, the reason for Elisha’s actions are clear; what Elisha did was nothing other than a prototypical version of resuscitation, using his own breath and body heat to revive the child.

We, too, have witnessed no shortage of medical miracles over this past year, masked as standard medical procedures. Wounded soldiers and civilians, whose lives were hanging in the balance, have been saved by divine grace only visible to the spiritually-inclined eye that looks beyond the talented medics, emergency surgeries, innovative drugs and other procedures. While the best practices of doctors, nurses, and medics do not break with the laws of nature, their work is often miraculous.

The story of Elisha reminds us to not forget to look for miracles and be incredibly grateful to God as well as to those doctors, nurses and medics whose work has allowed so many wounded to survive, heal, recuperate, and return to their prior lives at least partially, if not fully or more robust than before.

At the same time, the same has, unfortunately, not been true for everyone. Of the approximately 12,000 wounded soldiers treated in Israel since Oct. 7 of last year, many still face long roads to recovery. Some are learning to live with prosthetic limbs or vision impairment, while others haven’t yet regained the ability to breathe independently.

Radak’s other interpretation of Elisha’s actions in healing the child contains valuable insights and lessons in how we should treat these patients, those still undergoing long and arduous journeys of healing, including those whose condition remains uncertain. He suggests that Elisha’s physical closeness to the child is in fact a fulfillment of a halakhic principle – that when praying for a person in need, being physically present enhances empathy and focus in one’s prayer.

This approach to the mitzva of Bikur Cholim, visiting the sick, shared by Radak and others (cf. Nachmanides Torat ha-Adam Sha’ar HaMeichush) highlights that close proximity to the ill person empowers one’s prayer on their behalf.

Like Elisha, we must combine faith in miracles with direct, personal action. Our wounded defenders need not only our prayers; they need our presence, support and commitment to walk alongside them on their journey to recovery.

This is a concept that medical professionals recognize today. Studies have demonstrated that having visitors helps patients recover more quickly; and that those patients who lack visitors fare worse than those with visitors.  As those who have been protected by these wounded soldiers’ sacrifices; it’s our obligation to honor them through the mitzva of Bikur Cholim – to actively show up for them and create the conditions for healing. By being there for them, we not only rely on hidden miracles, but help to make them happen.