Washington Rabbi Reports Dream Visitation from Dead Mother of Boy He Buried

Julius T. Loeb, “Washington Rabbi Reports Dream Visitation from Dead Mother of Boy He Buried,” Washington Times (Washington, DC), Feb. 18, 1923. https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn84026749/1923-02-18/ed-1/seq-25/ Continued: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn84026749/1923-02-18/ed-1/seq-27/ 

WASHINGTON RABBI REPORTS DREAM VISITATION FROM DEAD MOTHER OF BOY HE BURIED

By RABBI J. T. LOEB.

    Here is a most remarkable incident, which may baffle the intelligence of the so-called worldly-wise and shake the self-confidence of the practical men and their theories of matter-of-fact. It is an incident, or phenomenen, [sic] which may not be traced back to natural causes, nor be explained away by any ordinary human calculation. The writer of these lines assumes full responsibility for the veracity of what is given below. He will relate the tale without coloring, imagination, or fanciful make-up.

    I will not endeavor in any wise to impose my own personal views upon others with reference to this subject. I will only say for myself that the incident I am to tell about has revolutionized my own mind and thought. If ever a vestige of skepticism had lingered in my inner soul as to the existence of a world of celestial beings (of which so much is spoken and so little is known in a tangible way), this incident has banished it all completely and left no room for doubt or misgiving. And now as to the story:

    On the afternoon of Friday, January 6 of this year, I was called upon in my official capacity to hold a funeral service over the remains of a Jewish sailor boy, eighteen years of age, who died from illness contracted on board the battleship Mississippi, only about seven months after his enlistment.

    At Danzansky’s chapel, where the solemn services were held, I was told that the boy, who was a student in the Central High School, had run away from home a year ago and enlisted in the Navy. He then gave his age as eighteen, so as to be accepted without parent’s consent. He was the only son of his mother, who had died some years prior to his enlistment. His father, Samuel Shear, a tailor had married again a short time after the death of his first wife. The name of the boy was Joseph.

“ANOTHER JOE.”

    That was all the data I got about the deceased on preaching the funeral sermon. I prayed earnestly for his soul’s rest. “Another Joe,” was the remark I made to those round about, who knew that but four weeks previously I had the dread misfortune of losing a son of the same name (Joseph), twenty seven years of age, who died as a result of injuries sustained in the late world war.

    The incident passed and I thought of it no more. I am a busy man and I do not allow myself time to think, except as to immediate duty. And so with the many passing events, it seemed that the sad happening had slipped out of my mind and memory completely. But then the unexpected, and what may be termed, the impossible, occurred.

    One week later, on Friday night, January 12, I had a dream of a very peculiar and disquieting nature. When I awoke out of that dream, about 3 a. m. Saturday, January 13, I could sleep no longer through the rest of the night.

    It made such a profound impression, and weighed so heavily upon my mind, that I felt it betokened something. I was anxious and curious, yet dared not be “silly” enough to give utterance to a recital of a “mere dream.” And I would not by any means let superstition spread in the family circle.

    I said nothing to any one here, throughout the day, Saturday. I was kept busy during the day, conducting the Sabbath services at the synagogue, preaching in the morning and in the afternoon; and the day passed by, and Saturday evening came along, when I sat down to thinking it over.

RELATES DREAM.

    Mamma then began her usual lament about our son Joe, as to how at this time five weeks ago his lifeless form was brought into the house from North Carolina, where he died on the preceding Friday, December 8, 1922.

    A heavy sort of feeling pressed upon me. It was unbearable. I could no longer restrain myself, and involuntarily I made a casual remark: “Oh, that it may mean nothing!”

    “What is it?” Mamma cried out, “do tell it.”

    “Oh, nothing!” I said, “just a lot of nonsense.”

    “What is it?” again she demanded. “If it is a dream, tell it to us; tell it; we must know and interpret it for the best. Let us know; speak.” So everybody in the home then joined in the demand. It was impossible to withhold the matter from the home folks, and I related it, as follows.

    “It appeared as though in my official capacity I was walking at the head of a funeral procession. The cortege stopped at the entrance of a modest structure.

    “The casket was set down on the ground, when a sonorous voice from behind was heard saying: ‘Another one!’ Immediately thereupon an apparition rose out from in front of the coffin, a few paces distant, transforming itself into a woman, a little over five feet high, inclined toward stoutness, round-faced, light hair and complexion, about forty to forty-five years of age. With countenance beaming satisfaction and cheer she bent down and kissed my right hand. And I awoke * * * *”

    Nobody knew what to say. An ominous silence reigned for a few brief moments. Just then I reminded myself of the remark, “Another Joe,” in connection with the funeral rites one week ago. I mentioned it to the folks, and we all commenced to discuss the sad fact of the youth who left home ond [sic] died a tragic death on board a warship.

DREAM INTERPRETED.

    “Why, that’s it!” suddenly remarked my eldest son, Aaron, “it is the boy’s mother. She is thankful.”

    “I wish it were so,” I replied, and at this moment I felt greatly relieved, as if a big load were taken off my mind. It was wonderful. Yet, I was not quite satisfied as to the facts in the case. Is it possible that that woman should correspond to the description? If so, it would be nothing short of a miracle. I could hardly believe it. I passed another sleepless night, being so anxious to find out if perchance the matter proved true. No I could not believe it to be so.

    I thus kept on speculating and conjecturing within myself, impatiently waiting till past 8 o’clock Sunday morning, when I called up Mr. Danzansky, the Jewish undertaker, over the telephone, asking him for the correct address of Mr. Shear, as I had something of great importance to impart to him. Mr. Danzansky himself became anxious to know just what it was about. I told him it was impossible to disclose it through the phone, but made an appointment for 1 o’clock in the afternoon of the same day, when we would go over together to see Mr. Shear.

    The sequel of the story: By half past one o’clock Mr. Danzansky and I appeared at Mr. Shear’s place. Upon my request Mr. Shear was called out into the hall, so we could talk over the matter personally. I asked him if his first wife was not of light complexion and of the stature and general appearance she had assumed in the dream. He said, “Yes; why, did you know her?”

    “And now us to her age? Was she about forty to forty-five?”

    “Yes,” he answered, “she was exactly forty years of age when she died, and had light hair and fair complexion. She was rather stoutly built, and a little over medium height. Yes, why are you asking all of this? You must have known her, then, of course.”

    I said, “I never knew her, but saw her in a dream,” and told my story.

    Mr. Danzansky was astounded. He pressed my hand warmly and thanked me for having called him over to listen to this remarkable story. He felt, like myself, that perchance the mother was thankful for having had her beloved son returned to her with becoming dignity and the required religious rites.

    Now, I repeat, I have never known nor met any of the Shear family before. And I wish to say that this story is no fiction, nor imagination on my part. Though a mere dream in origin, it is nonetheless coupled with stern reality, and borne out by positive facts, and verified by two other living witnesses, as stated.

    To the wise and intelligent in the present “age of reason” I submit this story without further comment of my own. I am anxious and expectant to hear of their opinion, and would feel greatly obligated to any one of them who would satisfactorily explain the mystery of it from the standpoint of rational thought, or scientific research, if explanation is at all possible.