The Talmud (Sanhedrin 37a) teaches that if a person saves a life, it is as if he were responsible for saving an entire universe.

There is an apocryphal story of a child who was drowning in the sea and was saved from the clutches of the current by a passing stranger.

The parents, a well-to-do couple, thanked the rescuer with heartfelt gratitude and offered a magnanimous reward. The hero declined graciously and said to the child, “I am happy that I was able to save your life, now go and spend the rest of it ensuring it was a life worth saving; that will be my reward.”

I was reminded of this by a story I came across this week on Facebook. It was posted on the page of EFRAT, an organization that was established by a modern-day hidden tzadik (righteous person), Dr. Eli Schussheim, in 1977, and which provides women (and couples) with what they describe as “a full safety net of support – emotional, financial, medical, physical, and even vocational – to empower them to give birth with confidence, joy, and dignity.”

In essence, EFRAT provides financial and psychological support to people who are considering termination of pregnancy, not because they want to, but because they feel they cannot cope, either with the additional financial burden or with the added stresses that inevitably arrive with the precious bundle of joy.

To date, they have assisted 86,000 women to fulfil their dream of motherhood and, in so doing, saved myriad worlds.

The Facebook post that someone sent me stated: “I need to tell you this story. My son is serving in Gaza right now. He was mobilized on that dark Shabbat day of October 7. In the first week, he called me and let me know that they were lacking basic equipment. Immediately, as any father would do, I started calling around to see if anyone could help. By chance, I heard from a friend that EFRAT was fundraising for the supplies my son needed.

EFRAT facilitating motherhood 

“EFRAT. The memories started flooding back. I had shivers down my spine because, 20 years ago, my wife wanted to have an abortion. At the time, we were a wreck money-wise. But EFRAT insisted that if we wanted to have the baby, they wouldn’t abandon us. They promised us that they would help look after the baby. And they delivered.

“When the baby was born, they outfitted us with a new stroller, a crib, a full layette – truly everything we needed to bring the baby home. Afterward, for two years, every month we would receive a package full of pacifiers, formula, diapers, and more. Everything with abundance, kindness, and discretion. 

“Here we are today. My baby, my pride and joy, is all grown up, serving in an elite unit, protecting lives. Ensuring new life. Just like EFRAT did.”

When I read this, like many readers, I was greatly moved, but I was also transported back about 35 years.

Back then, in what seems like a different universe altogether, I was a rookie young doctor, full of enthusiasm, energy, and a large dose of naivety, working in a family practice in the UK.

A lady came to consult because she was pregnant and couldn’t face the stresses of another child. She hadn’t told her husband. She was a wreck; not sleeping, not eating, and constantly tearful. She requested that I refer her for a termination.

We talked it through for what seemed like an eternity, and I did what today would be considered to be breaking every rule in the book: I gave my opinion! I suggested that she find the courage to discuss it with her husband, reconsider, sleep on it some more, and then come back to me to discuss it again.

After a week or so, she returned and told me that she and her husband had decided to continue with the pregnancy. I felt I had done the right thing, and the whole episode was never mentioned again, either by me or the mother, on the numerous occasions we met in my clinic over the years.

However, secretly, I watched, from a distance, how this delightful little girl grew up, went to school, graduated, and was a source of joy to her parents and grandmother, all of whom were my patients. Whenever I saw any of the family, I desperately wanted to ask them how “R” was doing, but I didn’t, of course.

I smiled a warm smile to myself when I read in the local newspaper all the good wishes that she received on her 21st birthday, but perhaps one of the highlights of my long career as a family doctor was, when, completely out of the blue, I received an invitation to a wedding.

On the beautifully printed gold-edged invitation, the bride’s name had been underlined, and in tiny handwritten letters below were the words, “Without you, this would never have happened. Thank you.”

Today, that “little girl” is a mother herself, and another entire world has begun.

How wise is the Talmud, and how wonderful is the organization called EFRAT. 

The writer is a rabbi and physician living in Ramat Poleg, Netanya, and is a co-founder of Techelet-Inspiring Judaism.