Stories of the Rebbe

A letter from the Lubavitcher Rebbe, from 1981.

By the Grace of G-d 3rd Light of Chanukah, 5741 Brooklyn, N.Y.

Mr. ------ Highgate, London N 16

Greeting and Blessing:

This is to acknowledge receipt of your letter and enclosure.

I am reluctant, on principle, to involve a layman, however knowledgeable, even if he possesses semichah [ordination], in a matter that is the subject of debate between rabbis. However, after you received a detailed letter from a rabbi and request a clarification, I have no choice but to address myself to the issues at hand in reply, though necessarily not in depth.

I must begin with a general but crucial point, namely, that the arguments against my supposed stand are based on misinformation or on misconception of what my stand is. Indeed, I find it difficult to understand how this could have happened, since I have repeatedly explained my position. So I will recap it once again.1.I am completely and unequivocally opposed to the surrender of any of the liberated areas currently under negotiation, such as Yehuda [Judea] and Shomron [Samaria], the Golan Heights, etc. for the simple reason and only reason, that surrendering any part of them would contravene a clear psak din [ruling] in Shulchan Aruch [Code of Jewish Law] (Orach Chayim, sec. 329, par. 6, 7). I have repeatedly emphasized that this psak din has nothing to do with the sanctity of Eretz Yisroel or with “days of Moshiach”, the geula [Redemption] and similar considerations but solely with the rule of pikuach nefesh [saving a life]. This is further emphasized by the fact that this psak din has its source in the Talmud (Eiruvin 45a), where the Gemara cites as an illustration of a “border town” under the terms of this psak din – the city of Nehardea in Babylon (present day Iraq) – clearly not in Eretz Yisroel. I have emphasized time and time again that it is a question of, and should be judged purely on the basis of, pikuach nefesh, not geography.2.The said psak din deals with a situation where gentiles (the term is goyim, not enemies) besiege a Jewish border town, ostensibly to obtain “straw and hay” and then leave. But because of the possible danger, not only to the Jews of the town, but also to the other cities, the Shulchan Aruch rules that upon receiving news of the gentiles’ (even only) preparations, the Jews must mobilize immediately and take up arms even on Shabbos – in accordance with the rule that “Pikuach nefesh supercedes Shabbos.”3.Should there be a question whether the risk does in fact create a situation of pikuach nefesh, then, as in the case of illness, where a medical authority is consulted, the authority to make a judgment is vested in the military experts. If military experts decide that there is a danger of pikuach nefesh, there could be no other overriding considerations, since pikuach nefesh overrides everything else. Should the military experts declare that while there is such a risk, yet it should be taken for some other reason, such as political considerations (good will of the gentiles) – this would clearly be contrary to the psak din, for the psak din requires that pikuach nefesh, not political expediency, should be the decisive factor.

Now in regard to the liberated areas, all military experts, Jewish and non-Jewish, agree that in the present situation giving up any part of them would create serious security dangers. No one says that giving up any part of them would enhance the defensibility of the borders. But some military experts are prepared to take a chance in order not to antagonize Washington and/or to improve the “international image,” etc. To follow this line would not only go against the clear psak din, but would also ignore costly lessons of the past.

One glaring case in point is “the Yom Kippur War.” Days and hours before the attack, there were urgent sessions of the government discussing the situation with the military. Military intelligence pointed to unmistakable evidence that an Egyptian attack is imminent, and the military experts advised a preemptive strike that would save many lives and prevent an invasion. However, the politicians, with the acquiescence of some military experts, rejected this action on the ground that such a step, or even a general mobilization, before the Egyptians actually crossed the border, would mean being branded as the aggressor and would jeopardize relations with the USA. This decision was contrary to the said psak din of the Shulchan Aruch, as pointed out above. The tragic results of that decision bore out the validity of the Shulchan Aruch’s position (as if it is necessary), for many lives were needlessly sacrificed and the situation came close to total disaster, but for G-d’s mercies. Suffice it to mention that the then Prime Minister later admitted that all her life she would be haunted by that tragic decision.1.I know, of course, that there are rabbis who are of the opinion that in the present situation, as they see it, it would be permissible from the viewpoint of the Shulchan Aruch to return areas from Eretz Yisroel. But it is also known on what information they based this view. One argument is that the present situation is not identical with the hypothetical case of Nehardea cited in the Talmud, because Eretz Yisroel is not in the state of “being besieged by gentiles.” A second argument is that the present surrendering some areas would not endanger lives.

That these arguments are based on misinformation is patently clear. The Arab neighbors are prepared militarily; what is more, they do demand these areas as theirs to keep and openly declare that if not surrendered voluntarily, they will take them by force and eventually everything else. A rabbi who says that the said psak din of the Shulchan Aruch does not apply in the present situation is completely misinformed on what the situation actually is.1.A further example of how facts can be publicly distorted is in connection with the surrender of the oil wells in Sinai. Some warned at the time that it would be a terrible mistake to give them up, since oil, in this day and age, is an indispensable vital weapon, for without it planes and tanks are put out of action as surely as if they had been knocked out. Nevertheless, there were Rabbis who defended the surrender of the oil wells – again having received and accepted the “information” that the country has ample oil reserves that would last for months. When it was suggested to them to verify this information with anyone who has some idea about the physical limitations of storing oil to build up reserves, especially in a small country with limited storage space – the suggestion was ignored. Sure enough, before long the government found it necessary to demand from the USA urgent oil deliveries, because the reserves would last only a few days. Moreover, prominent members of the government publicly admitted that it was a serious mistake to have surrendered the oil wells.

But it also noted that since the surrender of the oil wells in Sinai – according to the government’s figures - some two and a half billion dollars was paid by it to Egypt for oil from the very same wells that had been surrendered. Not to mention the fact of having to buy oil also in the spot market, all at exorbitant prices.1.Parenthetically, it is known who supplied the rabbis with this “information.” When one of the rabbis was asked, after it had become all too obvious that their psak din was based on false information, why he does not come out and openly reverse his position, the answer was that if he admitted publicly that he had been misled by a prominent Jew, with beard and peos [sidelocks], who is active in Jewish affairs, it would create a chilul Hashem [desecration]. Queried further whether this consideration halachically overrides correcting a psak din affecting the pikuach nesfesh of many Jews, there was no further response.2.I was taken to task (and this also in full public view) for placing so much emphasis on the security of Eretz Yisroel, the argument being that what has protected Jewish people during the long golus [Exile] has been the study of Torah and the practice of mitzvoth; hence, Torah-observant Jews should not make the inviolability of Eretz Yisroel as the overriding cause. I countered that they missed the point, for my position has nothing to do with Eretz Yisroel as such, but with the pikuach nefesh of the Jews living there – which would apply to any part of the world. I have not “yet” received an answer to this point, either.3.I was similarly criticized for accusing the government of Eretz Yisroel of reluctance to find and apprehend the murderous attack in Hebron on that Friday night. I do not know what this has to do with the issue of returning liberated areas! At any rate, the facts are as follows. Before coming out to charge the government publicly with not trying to apprehend the murderers, I tried to do what I could behind the scenes.

It is known that there were two schools of thought in the government on this issue. One held that it would be expedient not to press the hunt for the killers on the ground that to find and put them on trial, etc., would exacerbate tensions; therefore it would be better to put the matter at rest by procrastination. The other held, that the government should take all possible action to apprehend the killers and punish them swiftly, not only because “the blood of our brethren cries out to us from the earth,” but also, and just as importantly, for pikuach nefesh reasons, to prevent further similar attacks. For, anyone who knows the mentality of those Arab circles from which the terrorists came knows that failure to punish them would be interpreted as a sign of weakness and be an encouragement to repeat such attacks.

This debate went on for weeks. When I saw that inaction was the government’s policy and that it would be a serious blow to pikuach nefesh, I made my public statement. Fortunately it had an impact and finally the hint began I earnest, resulting in the speedy apprehension of the leader of the gang.

Parenthetically, the sad epilogue of this chapter, which is in itself a reflection of the state of affairs in Eretz Yisroel, is that although many weeks have passed since the murderer was caught, he has not as yet been put on trial and there is still no word as to when this will come to pass. No further commentaries are necessary. It should be noted, however, that the policy of playing down terrorist attacks and avoiding counteraction wherever possible is, unfortunately one that goes back many years, evidently for the reasons indicated above, as is also borne out by the enclosed newspaper clipping.1.A further criticism leveled against me is that my pronouncements on the issues are more political than rabbinic. This, too, baffles me, for inasmuch as the matter has to do with pikuach nefesh, it is surely the duty of every Jew, be he rabbi or layman, to do all that is permitted by the Shulchan Aruch to help forestall or, at any rate, minimize, the danger. In a case of pikuach nefesh, every possible effort must be made, even if there is a sofek [doubt] and many doubts whether the effort will succeed.2.As for the matter regarding the reception given to the person involved in this controversy on his arrival in New York, as if I, or my emissaries, instigated the demonstration against him, etc. Needless to say that this charge is totally not true. Even in an oral discussion I am careful not to identify by name anyone who takes an opposite view and limit myself to issues and not personalities. Especially when the person is known to me personally and I have high regard for him, and from my side, still regard as a friend.

In conclusion, I must also say that in general I find myself in an uncomfortable position in any situation where I find it necessary to disagree with an Orthodox rabbi publicly in such a matter of halachah. For when a layman sees that there are rabbis who, having been misled by misinformants, yet still do not retract their ruling even after the misinformation has been brought to light, it must necessarily affect his confidence in the credibility of rabbinic authority in general. Especially this, obviously, runs counter to the basic policy and work of Lubavitch in disseminating Torah-true Yiddishkeit, with emphasis on the honor of the Torah and the honor of the true bearers of the Torah – the rabbis who dedicate all their lives to the study of Torah and who live accordingly and exemplify Torah-true Yiddishkeit in the fullest measure.

Wishing you a bright and inspiring Chanukah,

With esteem and blessing,

[signature]

P.S. The following has been delayed, as I was waiting for the enclosed newspaper clippings before replying to the criticism against the group of rabbis who are alleged to have brought the controversy into the limelight of the English press. Actually, the complaint should have been addressed to the group of rabbis and, in any case, it has no relevance to my stand. However, in view of the general confusion regarding these issues, as already noted above, I will clarify this point also.

The fact is that the subject matter had at first been publicized in the same English press, giving expression to the opposite view and, in a much sharper form, by a group of prominent Jews, as can be seen from the enclosed clippings, as early as June 15, and there was also a sequel to it. The declaration by the group of rabbis (which received less generous coverage) appeared on or around the 2nd of July. I do not have this particular clipping at hand, but no doubt critics have it and can verify it.

One point which I hesitated embodying in my letter, but decided to add in the P.S., is this:

Rabbis who, differing from my view, declared their Torah and halachah view on the question of returning liberated areas in Eretz Yisroel also based it on the principle of pikuach nefesh, but in reverse to mine. Their opinion is based on the belief that returning liberated areas would advance the cause of peace with the Arabs and thus save lives. If this opinion is valid, it inexorably follows from it that the thrust of the argument as it is applied to the Golan, Yehudah, and Shomron applies also to the Old City of Jerusalem and in fact more forcefully, since the clamor for the return of Old Jerusalem is more genuinely unanimous and stronger by all the Arabs, including Egypt, Saudi Arabia and the whole Islamic world (while not all of them are so “enthusiastic” about creating a new and independent Palestinian State on the West Bank).

Rabbi Avraham Rottenberg is a Gerrer Chasid who currently lives in Bnei Brak. Quite poor, he was often faced with economic difficulties that most other Israelis would try to assuage – at best temporarily – through a loan. But not Rottenberg: “No loans – they’re not for me” was his habitual refrain.

Once, an acquaintance of his, a man of means who was aware of Rottenberg’s situation, offered him an interest-free loan. It was refused.

The friend urged him. “If it is the procedures that make you hesitant, you needn’t worry; I’ll take care of everything. I’ll even arrange the three guarantors to sign for you.”

Again the answer was “No.”

The man persisted, and from the goodness of his heart continued, “I’m in no hurry to get the money back. You can take all the time you want.”

“Thank you, but no thank you,” responded Rottenberg, gently. “It is not that I am concerned about my ability to pay back the money. It is simply that this is a guiding principle in my life.”

In order to understand whence came this principle and how it came to be so firmly implanted in Rabbi Avraham Rottenberg, we must go all the way back to the 1950s.

Private Exchange

Rottenberg was a young married man then, whom circumstances had brought to residence in Crown Heights, NY, the Brooklyn neighborhood of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Although a Chasid of Gur, not Chabad, Rabbi Rottenberg, like many others, was curious about the Lubavitcher Rebbe, who seemed so different in style than the other Chasidic rebbes. Therefore he often attended the Rebbe’s public gatherings (farbrengens) and other events at 770 Eastern Parkway, world Lubavitcher headquarters.

Captivated by the Rebbe’s wisdom and charisma, and the Rebbe’s obvious holiness, Rottenberg began to turn to the great leader for advice, through correspondence, a pattern he maintained for nearly 40 years, until the Rebbe’s final illness. Over that time, Rabbi Rottenberg received nearly 100 letters from the Rebbe – the envy of many Lubavitcher Chasidim.

At one of the farbrengens, during a break between the Rebbe’s successive discourses (sichos), the listeners as usual were raising their voices in song and lifting their small cups of wine or vodka to make a toast. At that moment Rabbi Rottenberg noticed one of the Chabad Chasidim approaching the Rebbe with a personal request. Seated near the front, he overheard their exchange of words. The man was requesting a blessing for a friend whose financial situation was dire.

Surprisingly the Rebbe was not quick with his blessing. Instead, he asked the petitioner, “For what does this man need money?”

The Chasid was confused by the unexpected response. Stammering, he repeated the question, “For what does he need . . . .?”

The Rebbe paused in thought. After a few moments he stated, “For what he needs, he has. The problem is that he has become used to borrowing money and not returning it.”

The Rebbe paused a few more moments, then added, “When he accepts upon himself the obligation to return all that he owes, and firmly resolves to not take on anymore loans, then – and only then – will he be able to receive from the Al-mighty, directly.”

Rabbi Rottenberg found himself deeply affected by this exchange, even though the words had not been directed to him personally, or even to the public, but rather to a specific individual in a unique situation. He felt privileged to have heard the Rebbe confirm one of his own principles: whoever believes that the Al-mighty concerns Himself with all of our needs removes from himself the need to ever have to borrow money.

It was then, seated at the farbrengen, that Rabbi Rottenberg vowed silently to himself: whatever would happen, he would never take a loan. It was up to him to trust absolutely that G-d would provide for him whatever he needed.

Firm Commitment

Decades later, in 5740/1980, Rabbi Rottenberg faced a test of his own. He was blessed to make a wedding for one of his children, and the burden of all the expenses, direct and indirect, was more — so much more! — than he could bear. Although a loan seemed the only logical solution, he clung with all his might to his resolve not to do so.

Nevertheless, it seemed he would have to give in. On the morning of the wedding, he was without a dollar even for the caterer, let alone the band, the photographer, or the owner of the wedding hall. He even lacked the cash for a taxi to take his family to the hall.

Despite all this, Rabbi Rottenberg remained stubborn in his refusal to consider a loan. But how was he supposed to get his family to the wedding hall?

Although already dressed for the wedding, he decided to duck into a nearby synagogue to pray again for Divine aid. While he was praying, a man entered whose appearance stamped him as a Chabad Chasid. This turned out to be Rabbi Moshe Yeraslovsky (of blessed memory; father of the current head of the Chabad Rabbinical court in Israel).

Rabbi Yeraslovsky glanced around at those present in the room, until his eyes settled upon Rabbi Rottenberg. Approaching him he said, “Based upon the way you are dressed, I suspect this is a day of celebration for you.”

“That’s correct,” answered Rabbi Rottenberg. “Today is my son’s wedding, may it be a good and auspicious time.”

“Ah,” said Rabbi Moshe Yeraslovsky, “and how much money are you short?”

“Why are you asking?” wondered Rabbi Rottenberg, not understanding at all where Rabbi Moshe Yeraslovsky was heading. And why did he phrase it “How much” as if he knew for sure about his lack, rather than “Do you have enough”?

Rabbi Moshe Yeraslovsky smiled. “Let me explain. I just got back to Israel this morning from Brooklyn, visiting the Lubavitcher Rebbe and the community.

“Last night I merited a private audience with the Rebbe, face-to-face, just the two of us. As we were finishing, the Rebbe opened his desk drawer and took out a thick wad of dollars. He then handed it over to me, saying, ‘You are leaving now to Eretz Yisrael. Sometimes one meets there a Jew who is making a wedding and needs cash desperately. You can give this money to him.’

“From the time I landed this morning, I’ve been seeking to fulfill my mission. You are the first one to ‘plead guilty’ to making a wedding. Therefore I am positive that you are the one for whom the Rebbe intended this gift, according to his words.”

Check out our new blog: Daily Tanya

By Eli & Malka Touger

Credit: https://www.chabad.org/therebbe/default_cdo/jewish/The-Rebbe.htm

Rabbi Zalman Serebryanski, a senior chassid from Russia and dean of the Lubavitch Rabbinical College in Melbourne, Australia, once brought a girl to Rabbi Chaim Gutnick. "Please, help this girl convert," he asked.

Rabbi Gutnick listened to the girl's story. She lived in Balaclava, and from her youth had felt a strong attraction to Judaism. Whenever she heard stories of the Holocaust, she was deeply touched. She had been reading and studying about Judaism for a long time, and now wanted to convert.

Rabbi Gutnick was moved by her sincerity. Nevertheless, he did not want to perform the conversion. The girl was still living at home with her non-Jewish parents. Would she be able to practice Judaism in her parents' home? Would her interest continue as she matured into adulthood? Since he could not answer these questions, he decided to let time take its course. If the girl was still interested when she was older, she could convert then.

Rabbi Gutnick's refusal plunged the girl into deep depression, to the extent that she had to be confined to a hospital. The elder Reb Zalman, stirred by the depth of her feelings, continued to visit her from time to time.

After several weeks, he called Rabbi Gutnick, telling him of the girl's condition and asking him whether perhaps he would change his mind because of the strength of her feelings.

Rabbi Gutnick answered that the reasons which had dissuaded him from performing the conversion were still valid. Nevertheless, he promised to write to the Lubavitcher Rebbe describing the situation. If the Rebbe advised him to facilitate her conversion, he would happily comply.

Reb Zalman told the girl that the Rebbe was being consulted, and her condition improved immediately.

Rabbi Gutnick did not receive an immediate reply to his letter. But at a later date, at the end of a reply to another issue, the Rebbe added: "What's happening with the Jewish girl from Balaclava?"

Rabbi Gutnick was surprised. The girl and Reb Zalman had both made it clear that her family was Anglican!He and Reb Zalman went to confront the girl's mother. At first, she continued to insist that she was Anglican, but as the sincerity of the two rabbis impressed her, she broke down and told her story. She had been raised in an Orthodox Jewish home in England. As a young girl, she had rebelled against her parents and abandoned Jewish life entirely, marrying a gentile and moving to Australia. She had not given Judaism a thought since. She loved her daughter, however, and would not oppose her if she wished to live a Jewish life.

Once the girl's Jewishness was established, Rabbis Serebryanski and Gutnick helped her feel at home in Melbourne's Lubavitch community. She continued to make progress in her Jewish commitment, and today is a teacher in a Lubavitch school.

But Rabbi Gutnick still had a question: How did the Rebbe know she was Jewish? At his next yechidut (audience with the Rebbe) he mustered the chutzpah to ask.

One Motzei Shabbos (Saturday night), the eve of the Fast of Esther, the night before Purim 5713 (1953). the Lubavitcher Rebbe had just finished praying Maariv in 770. He went out to the street with his chasidim to recite the Kiddush Levanah ("Sanctification of the New Moon") prayer. However, the chances of being able to accomplish this appeared to be very slim, because the sky was covered with thick clouds, and the moon must be entirely visible for this prayer to be said.

The Rebbe turned towards the assembled crowd and related a story from the time of the Tzemach Tzedek (the Rebbe's ancestor and namesake).

"Once, in [the village of] Lubavitch [in White Russia], the last possible night for Kiddush Levanah arrived, (for after that it would be a full moon,) yet the moon was not visible. The worried chasidim wrote a note of request about this and submitted it to the Tzemach Tzedek.

"The Tzemach Tzedek came out to the courtyard with a handkerchief in his hand, and began to tell a story to the chasidim that gathered around:

"'The chasidim of the great tzadik Rabbi Meir of Premishlan once submitted a letter to their Rebbe when the moon was not visible for Kiddush Levanah. Reb Meir'el (as he was affectionately known) came out holding a handkerchief and said: "'When the Jewish people were in the desert after the Exodus from Egypt, surrounded by the Clouds of Glory, how could they see the moon through the clouds in order to perform Kidush Levanah?

"'He explained: Moshe Rabeinu would go out, followed by the entire nation, wave his handkerchief back and forth, and the clouds would part….

"'Reb Meir'el demonstrated with his handkerchief what Moshe Rabeinu would do, and to everyone's great astonishment, the clouds immediately parted and the whole moon became visible!'

"The Tzemach Tzedek related this story to his Chassidim, and also demonstrated with his handkerchief how Reb Meir'el had done it. The miracle happened again, the clouds parted and the moon became visible!"

When the Rebbe concluded the story, he turned to the chasidim around him and said: "If there are Jews here that can do similar things, perhaps we will be able to do Kiddush Levanah tonight."

One of the chasidim, Rabbi Y. G., couldn't restrain himself and exclaimed: "The Rebbe!"

The Rebbe responded to him with a smile, "My job is only to tell the story."

The Rebbe then said, "I'll be back soon", and he left to make Havdalah for his mother, Rebbetzin Chanah, who lived one street away.

In honor of Yud-Tet Kislev and in connection with Chanuka, this time, we present a story of the first Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Shnuer Zalman Liadi, the “Alter Rebbe”.

Thanks to Yerachmiel Tilles of Ascent of Safed. --------------------------------------- The bitter conflict between Napoleon and Russia had been raging for months. Civilian travel within Russia was treacherous for all, but especially for Jews, for whom such journeys were fraught with danger even in the most tranquil of times. But what can one do if his livelihood depends on traveling from region to region, from city to city? The merchant [whom we shall call] Menashe, with a family to feed, had little choice but to accept the risks of his trade - war or no war.

He undertook these business trips each year soon after the High Holidays, making his way from his shtetl to the distant, unwelcoming regions of Russia beyond. The success of these ventures often depended upon personal connections and sheer guile. Indeed, despite the edicts of the Czar, Menashe had, at times, even sneaked into cities where Jews were denied entry.

This year, he knew, his journey would be especially perilous. Before taking to the road, he fortified himself by receiving a blessing for success from his rebbe, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi.

On the day of his departure, he bade farewell to his wife with more anxiety than usual.

Every few days, by mail or word of mouth, Menashe's wife received notice from her husband, informing her of his whereabouts and activities. She was delighted when a letter arrived from Petersburg, dated the second day of Chanukah, informing her that his business dealings had gone well and with God's help, he'd be returning home soon.

The she heard nothing more.

Days passed, then weeks, and still not a word. Her small children stared out the window, awaiting the gifts their father always brought when he returned from his far-away travels. But there was no sign of Menashe. No posts, no regards, no reports of chance encounters. Months passed. It was as though he had disappeared into thin air.

Had these been normal times, a few Jewish community activists would have traveled to Petersburg to make inquiries, but with the country at war, such a venture would be useless. Officials in Petersburg, a Czarist capital city, had more pressing issues to contend with than missing Jews. As for Menashe's wife, she sent urgent letters to every agency that might prove helpful, but received replies from none. Not knowing where to turn next, she sought the advice of the Rebbe.

"I am a veritable agunah" [an abandoned but still legally married woman, since it is unknown whether her husband is currently alive or not], she told the rebbe. "As for my children, they're suffering as though they are orphans."

The rebbe consoled the woman and assured her that, with God's help, her husband would return home safely.

Spring passed, then summer and autumn too, and soon the winter winds were already announcing their presence. The war continued to rage, the Russian forces losing one battle after the next. These were days of great travail for the entire population and, as usual, especially for Jews.

Still, a man must earn a living. The previous year, it was Menashe who had traveled through the embattled region; this year, Tzvi-Hirsch [as we shall call him] would face the same challenge. Like Menashe, Tzvi Hirsch was a devoted chasid of the first Chabad-Lubavitcher Rebbe, and therefore sought the tzadik's blessing before commencing his trip.

As Tzvi Hirsch prepared to leave the room after receiving the desired blessing, he heard the rebbe calling to him.

"Tzvi Hirsch, you said you'd be gone for several months, yes? That you expect to be away during Chanukah?"

"Yes, I'll still be on the road," Tzvi Hirsch replied.

As in years past, he'd planned his itinerary so he could celebrate Chanukah in a town inhabited by Jews and, if possible, with other chasidim. But why was the rebbe asking about this now?

"I want to remind you," the rebbe continued, "an essential requirement of the mitzvah of lighting the menorah is pirsumei nisa, the public proclamation of the Chanukah miracle. That is why the Talmud instructs us to put our menorah outside the front door [1] opposite the mezuzah or next to a window facing a public area so its light will be visible to the world."

"Yes, of course," Tzvi Hirsch said. "I always place my menorah near the window in my house."

"Good," said the rebbe. "But remember, the performance of pirsumei nisa isn't limited to one's own home. One must ensure the menorah is visible in whatever location one finds oneself. May you have a safe, successful trip."

Tzvi Hirsch was a considerably more successful merchant than Menashe, for whom every ruble was a struggle. Tzvi Hirsch's formidable connections allowed him to walk through doors closed to other Jews and to sojourn in royal cities like Petersburg, from which Jews were officially barred. But this was wartime, and all the thoroughfares were controlled by hostile military personnel. Meanwhile, a heavy snow had blanketed the roads, rendering the main arteries impassable.

On the eve of the first night of Chanukah, Tzvi Hirsch found himself stranded in a forsaken, isolated village, where he doubted even one Jew could be found. Given the weather conditions, he had no choice but to resign himself to spending the coming days at the local inn.

Alone in his room, Reb Tzvi Hirsch welcomed the holiday of Chanukah, reciting the traditional liturgy that recalls the miracles of the past and expresses the hope that they will recur in our own day. At the end of prayers, he removed a menorah from his bag, and prepared to place it on a chair across from the mezuzah affixed to a doorpost, forgetting for a moment he'd find no mezuzah in this gentile inn. Casting about for an appropriate spot, he suddenly remembered the rebbe's exhortation to light the Chanukah menorah in public view.

And so, Tzvi Hirsch dutifully set up his menorah near the window of his shabby room. Who would see the modest flames of these wicks'? The storm had intensified during the past few hours; no one in his right mind would dare extend a finger into the howling wind, let alone hazard a walk outside.

Nevertheless, Tzvi Hirsh set aside his puzzlement and kindled the menorah with all the zeal he could muster. A surge of homesickness overwhelmed him as he thought about the joyful Chanukah celebrations at the court of his rebbe. Fighting pangs of loneliness, he pulled a chair up next to the menorah, and began singing a chasidic melody.

The second night of Chanukah was no different. Tzvi Hirsch lit the two wicks in front of the window as an unrelenting gale lashed against the pane. Once more, he sat across from his menorah and immersed himself in Chassidic song and prayer. So absorbed was he in his devotions that he failed to notice the door open, or the man who'd quietly entered his room.

The unobserved visitor was immaculately dressed in a military officer's outfit, his jacket bedecked with medals. He stared silently at the Jew swaying slowly in his chair, oblivious to his surroundings.

When Tzvi Hirsch finally opened his eyes, he lurched from his seat, and quickly removed his cap in reflexive obeisance. But the officer merely smiled, and readily accepted Tzvi Hirsch's invitation to have a seat.

"Allow me to explain my presence here," the officer said. "I came to this province on military leave. I'm staying in a room nearby. Last night I noticed a peculiar light coming from your room. A mere flicker, hardly enough to yield warmth or even light. I thought, How strange! And when tonight, I saw two such glimmers from this room, I asked myself, What is going on in there? I knocked on the door and receiving no reply, let myself in. And what do I see? A Jew busying himself with a small lamp. And so I ask myself, What is a Jew doing in this remote part of the country? And what is he doing with this little lamp of his?"

"I will explain," said Tzvi Hirsch, speaking in fluent, sophisticated Russian. He recounted the history of the holiday, the Maccabees' valiant battle for freedom, the ritual lighting of the candelabrum, one additional light each night, progressing to eight, in commemoration of the discovery of a small flask of pure oil that miraculously burned in the destroyed Temple for eight days.

"So, the Jew is innocent after all!"

"What Jew?" asked Tzvi Hirsch. "Innocent of what?"

"He did tell us the truth."

"Sir, what Jew? The truth about what?"

The officer leaned back in his chair. "I am a military judge in the military court in Petersburg," he said. "Last year -around this time, in fact - we were presented with a Jew arrested as a spy. His name was Menashe, as I recall. The evidence pointing to his guilt was substantial. For one thing, he was found in Petersburg, where Jews are not permitted entry. For another, he was carrying false papers. And then there was this business of the lights. He was kindling his lamp near a window, one night one candle, two on the nest night and so on. We concluded this was a signal to the enemy, a code communicating the number of battalions arriving in the city.

"The Jew admitted that he was in the city illegally, but insisted that he was there only to conduct some business and certainly not to spy. What about the lamp, the lights in the window? He said this was a ritual belonging to the Jewish holiday of Chanukah.

"He didn't convince the court, although that may have been because, to tell the truth, we weren't inclined to believe his account. The man was sentenced to a ten-year prison term."

"What happens now?" Tzvi Hirsch asked, astonished.

"Well," said the officer, "I see now we should have listened more judiciously to what the Jew had to say. As soon as I return from my furlough, I'll see to it that he is given his freedom."

When Tzvi Hirsch returned to his town, he was greeted by the news that Menashe was already in his own home, reunited with his family. Not even Menashe knew what had prompted his sudden release, although he and his family were exuberantly grateful when they found out.

by Rabbi Sholom DovBer Avtzon

In honor of the Chassunah of our daughter and son-on-law this past Sunday, I am sharing a Yechidus that a chosson had with the Rebbe prior to his Chassunah, in 5728 (1968).[1]  This story I heard from Rabbi Sholom Ber Schapiro, who was then also a chosson and had a yechidus that night, immediately before that chosson, and heard it directly from him. My thanks to Rabbi Schapiro for sharing it with me,

In those years, a yechidus before one’s Chassunah was for just a few minutes. Together to their pa”n (pidyon nefesh – request for brochos), the Chosson would give the Rebbe an invitation and the Rebbe would quite often ask him a few questions about the preparations to the chassunah.

That night one of the chassanim’s yechidus continued for considerably longer, which was a surprise to everyone. So when he came out of the Rebbe’s room, I (Rabbi Sholom Ber Schapiro) went over and said, if it wasn’t personal, would you please share with me what the Rebbe said to you during your Yechidus.

The chosson replied, although the Rebbe told it to me, which demonstrates that it is pertinent to me, perhaps more than to others, however, I do feel that it should be shared with others, so I will relate it to you.

As you all know, quite often the Rebbe asks chassanim a few questions about the preparations for the Chassunah.

I (the other chosson) replied, That I was learning the halachos that are pertinent to a marriage, as well as the fact that we found an apartment, and some other points.

The Rebbe then asked me “What else?”

I replied, we purchased some furniture, for the dining room, living room and bedroom.

The Rebbe then inquired, “And what else?’

I replied, “We have pots, pans, dishes and cutlery.

Once again the Rebbe inquired, “And what else?”

I replied, “Towels and linen”.

But each answer I gave, seemingly didn’t answer his question. I said that the walls were being painted, shades for the windows were put up, a new lock on the door.

And the Rebbe continued repeating this question, “And what else?”

Finally, I had nothing more to add, and I remained silent.

The Rebbe then said, “You mentioned that you acquired numerous things; however, you didn’t mention that you bought and placed Mezuzos on the frame of the door. I will tell you why one should have a mezuzah on the door of their apartment.[2]

“The Hebrew word mezuzah, is comprised of three consonants; it begins with a mem, the word zoo and the word zeh.

“The numerical equivalent of the letter Mem, is forty.  The Mem in the word Mezuzah, represents the Torah, which was given to us after Moshe Raibeinu went up the mountain for mem (forty) days. [That is a reference to Torah Shebeksav (the written Torah)], and mem also symbolizes the Torah she’baal peh (oral Torah) as the talmud begins and ends with a mem.

“The consonant Zoo represents the words of the possuk ahm zoo yutzartuh (this nation You created), a reference to the Jewish people.

“The final consonant of Zeh is connected to the words of the possuk, Zeh Keili vi’anverihu(this is my G-d and I will glorify Him).

So in essence the mezuzah represents the three loves that a Jew has, Ahavas Hatorah (love for the Torah), Ahavas Hashem (love for Hashem) and Ahavas Yisroel (love for every Jew).

That is teaching us that a chosson and kallah should prepare their home to be a home of  – TORAH (mem), YIDDEN (zoo) – meaning hachnasas orchim and then HASHEM (zeh) will reside within their home and be a partner with them.”

The Rebbe then blessed me that my house should embody this concept. Amen

May this brocho be fulfilled in all of our homes!

---

Rabbi Avtzon is a veteran mechanech and the author of numerous books on the Rebbeim and their chassidim. He is available to speak or farbreng in your community and can be contacted at [email protected].

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[1] At that time each Chosson (and Kallah) was able to have a yechidus in the Rebbe’s room.

Author’s note: Rabbi Schapiro explained to me that the chassanim (and most people) fasted the day that they had a yechidus with the Rebbe. Being that he went into the yechidus before this chosson, he was waiting outside to give him something to break his fast on.

In the early mem’s (80’s), the seder became that the Rebbe would periodically grant yechidus kiloilis (one Yechidus for all chasanim and kallahs, another one for all boys and girls (together with their parents) who were becoming bar and bas mitzvah, etc.

[2] Compiler’s Note: I believe that at that time many people followed the halachah as it is mentioned in Shulcha Aruch. That a person who moves into an apartment, is not obligated to put up a mezuzah until he has lived there for thirty says.

Due to the preparations for the 5744 (1984) "Lag b'Omer Children's Parade" and the associated heavy activity in front of 770 Eastern Parkway in the Crown Heights section of Brooklyn, the World Headquarters of Chabad, it was decided that the couples who wished to receive blessings for children[1] from the Lubavitcher Rebbe should not stand outside 770 as usual. Instead, they should wait at 10:00 am at the door of the Rebbe's house, a few streets away at 1304 President Street, where they would have more quiet and privacy.

Knowing that an enormous crowd would gather there, an organizers committee was established to maintain order, to be enforced by the students of the Kollel[2] , of which I - Alter Bukiet -- was a member.

As it was not my nature to push or order people around, I had requested to be in charge of the area immediately outside the Rebbe's car door, to open it as soon as the Rebbe arrives, and to close it as soon as the Rebbe is seated to ensure that the Rebbe's driver can depart without any delay.

I will never forget the scene that day. There were many couples. People from Chabad and those who were not from Chabad were waiting for the Rebbe to leave his house.

The Rebbe came out at 10:00 am. It took twenty minutes for the Rebbe to reach his car. People were crying and screaming for the Rebbe's attention. It was so intense.

The Rebbe got into the car and was seated. I began to close the door, when suddenly someone stuck his head into the car and exclaimed to the Rebbe that he is married already for several years and has no children, then hurriedly stated his name and wife's name to the Rebbe. I happened to notice that this individual was a Satmar Chossid. Meanwhile, the pressure on the door was mounting. I tried with all my might to hold the door open so that he wouldn't get smashed.

The Rebbe blessed him, and then, before the man could withdraw, I hear the Rebbe add something very unusual. He looked directly at the Satmarer and said something like, "The child will need to have someone to play with."

The guy did not get at all what the Rebbe was trying to say. So the Rebbe said to him, Zucht Awmain (Say Amen)!" It finally registered and he responded with a loud shout: " Awmain!" and moved away from the vehicle. I closed the door and the Rebbe's car pulled away. * * *

Years pass. I 'graduated' to be the emissary of the Lubavitcher Rebbe to Lexington Massachusetts, near Boston. Life goes on.

Fifteen years after that Lag b'Omer incident, on the 24th of the Jewish month of Menachem Av 5759 [1999: August 6], on what would have been the 80th birthday of my father [Rabbi Chaim-Meir Bukiet] of blessed memory[3], had he not passed away a year and a half before on the 27th of Tevet, I decided to visit his grave. As it is located in the Montefiore cemetery in Queens NY, where also is located the "Ohel," the resting place of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, it meant that I would have to leave from home soon after midnight in order to arrive around 4:00 - 5:00 AM. That would give me enough time to visit my father's place as well as the Rebbe's, and still be able to get back by 9:00 am to start my regular work day.

At 5 in the morning I was in the Ohel and reading the Maaneh Loshon (the long texts recited by many at the grave of a tzadik, based on the Zohar). As I was standing there, I noticed a Satmar chasid enter with two young boys. I thought it strange that they should be here at such an hour. My bewilderment increased when after they all finished reciting the Maaneh Loshon, the father turned to his sons and told them, "take out themaamar (chasidic in-depth discourse)."

Each son took out a printed copy of the maamar traditionally recited by Chabad boys who reach the age of Bar Mitzvah. The two Satmar boys proceeded to each read the entire maamar. After leaving the Ohel, I saw them again in the reception area, standing near the coffee stand. I couldn't resist the urge to satisfy my curiosity. I approached the father and asked him in Yiddish what brings him here and at such hour?

He responded: "These are the Rebbe's children, they were born as a result of the Rebbe's blessing." He continued that he had been married several years with no children and so decided to try getting a blessing for a son from 'the Lubavitcher.' "The Rebbe blessed me as I requested and then said to me, "The child will need to have someone to play with." I was speechless, so the Rebbe added, "Zucht Awmain!" ('Say Amen'). Three times! Finally I realized what he intended and I responded with a loud 'Amen.' And in the merit of his blessing, my wife gave birth to twins, the boys you see in front of you."

I couldn't believe my ears! I must admit I became emotional. "Tell me, when exactly did this happen? Was it perhaps on Lag b'Omer in 5744? Outside the Rebbe's House?"

"Yes and Yes, on Lag b'Omer in 5744 outside the Rebbe's house on President Street inside the Rebbe's car!" confirmed the Satmarer.

"Wow! Amazing!" I exclaimed. "I am the one who held the door open with all my might that it shouldn't get slammed shut on you. Do you remember me?"

"That's right, of course!" he answered quickly, looking into my eyes to see if he could remember the face from so long ago. "And now you are seeing the happy outcome of the story. These twins were born two years and three months after that Lag b'Omer in the merit of the Rebbe's blessing. They are our only children and today is their Bar Mitzvah. They are the Rebbe's children!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ [1]It is a 200-year-old tradition in Chabad that the most propitious time of the year to request a blessing for children from a Lubavitcher Rebbe is on Lag b'Omer. [1]Post-yeshiva center for advanced Torah study by young married men.

[1]An important and highly respected chasid of the 6th and 7th Lubavitcher Rebbes, and the father and grandfather of many Lubavitcher emissaries around the world today

Rabbi Chanoch Glitzenstein, who ran one of the Chabad divisions, relates:

It was a few days after the ceasefire. To be more precise, it was on Motzaei Shabbos Noach, October 27, 1973. Nine Lubavitchers from Eretz Yisroel were still in New York, having spent the High Holidays and Succoth with the Rebbe.

They were suddenly called into the Rebbe’s room. The Rebbe, seated at his desk, turned to them and said:

“Due to the events that transpired on Yom Kippur, I request that some action take place to encourage the soldiers on the front lines, to raise their spirits, and to infuse them with new hope. Take some bottles of liquor with you from kos shel bracha (considered on the level of the “wine preserved from the Six Days of Creation”) and some silver coins, and go to the Israeli soldiers in their camps and on their bases. Serve them the liquor and drink l’chaim. Give each soldier two coins, one for charity in my name and mission and the other for his personal use or to keep as a charm.”

The Rebbe held up copies of two letters that he had written during the battles to soldiers who asked him for a blessing. “Not one soldier should be overlooked. This operation needs to be done with the knowledge of the general staff of the IDF and with its explicit permission. In each of the units that will spread out to all the army bases, it would be desirable to include someone who spent the High Holidays with the Rebbe and who can explain the significance of the war and the results. Not a word should be publicized before carrying out this mission to its end.” That is what the Rebbe instructed, and he gave his emissaries his blessings.

When the emissaries went home and told the local leaders what the Rebbe had said, the Chassidim got enthusiastically to work. Within a few days, a headquarters was set up and “forces” were enlisted and divided into units. The army command accepted the idea enthusiastically, although for certain time-related reasons there was some delay in carrying out the activities.

In the end, full cooperation was secured. The IDF provided Chabad with vehicles, security, escorts, guidance, and even special flights to distant bases. Chabad prepared tens of thousands of booklets containing the following:

1) The Rebbe’s blessing to the Israeli soldiers; 2) Two letters of the Rebbe, along with commentary on the Bible and the Torah; 3) Some of the Rebbe’s views about the war, and the lessons learned on the holiness of the land and the obligation to protect it in its entirety and to keep it secure.

Tefillin, liquor, cups, pastries, and coins were loaded into boxes and placed into the cars and planes. The operation began.

Coin around the Neck

We first went to the bases located in the Central Region command. Chabad in Jerusalem took responsibility for this section of the front. A hundred of us went, for three days and nights, from base to base, camp to camp, outpost to outpost.

The home front command and the education officers did all they could to facilitate our arrival at our destinations and carrying out our mission. Vehicles, drivers, escorts, and security were provided. Wherever we went, the commanders already knew about our coming and were ready to greet us.

It went something like this: first we entered the command tent, where we offered tefillin to the commanders. Nobody refused. We gave them the booklets with the Rebbe’s message and blessings; we poured cups of liquor and drank l’chaim, a toast, to the life of the country, to the lives of the soldiers, and to a quick victory over all the enemies of Israel. We gave out the coins, one for charity in the Rebbe’s name and the second for personal use. Then we left.

The commanders gathered the soldiers. One of the group members addressed them and explained the purpose of our mission. We told them that throughout the war the Rebbe never stopped thinking of Israel and the battlefronts and that he prayed continually for them. We read portions from what the Rebbe said at the recent summer farbrengens, during which he hinted to the possibility of war and the need to prepare practically and spiritually.

In response to questions, the Rebbe’s position on current problems – i.e. war, settlements – was clarified. We drank l’chaim with each soldier and explained to them about charity and the coins the Rebbe sent them. The soldiers were particularly excited about keeping one as either a souvenir or talisman. They even asked to drill a hole in it so it could be worn around the neck. While drinking the liquor, the soldiers wanted to know about kos shel bracha and the significance of making a toast.

After inspiring words mixed with Torah thoughts and Chassidic tales, large circles formed. Hundreds of soldiers joined along with the Lubavitchers, who sang and danced. The revelry went on for hours – in certain instances, late into the night.

In the Jordan Valley, we were sixty men who broke up into fourteen units. For three days and three nights we combed through all the camps and positions. Soldiers grabbed up the coins, drank the liquor, and took in the Rebbe’s words. They sang and danced, and participated in evenings with Chabad. They totally enjoyed the experience.

Highest Level

In the booklets that were distributed, the Lubavitcher Rebbe wrote that the soldiers called up to war were on the level of tzaddikim gemurim (completely righteous), for the war began on Yom Kippur, which atones for all sins. In one of the discourses, the Rebbe stressed learning from the soldiers who put naaseh (we will do) before nishma (we will understand) and who staunchly carry out the orders of those appointed over them. The Rebbe repeated what he said earlier, about the special role of the Jews among the nations and of our victory over our enemies and in all wars until the coming of Moshiach.

Over 100,000 copies were distributed during the campaign. Tens of thousands of additional copies were left in camps and with the education officers to give out on other occasions. The amount of liquor consumed for toasts was enormous; it was mixed from bottles of liquor the Rebbe had sent. Tens of thousands were opened during the campaign in order to provide a small cup for every soldier.

Israeli soldiers were called upon to trust in G-d and not to fear. As an added measure, the Rebbe suggested that the soldiers lay tefillin every day, increase in charity, and, as much as possible, do these two mitzvoth together with Torah study, even the smallest amount, from the booklets they were given.

Days later, the signal was given to begin the campaign in the Golan Heights. Groups of Lubavitchers reached all the way to the Hermon and visited all the outposts and strongholds. Chabad songs and the Rebbe’s words echoed in Syria too, along the ceasefire line.

After the Valley and the Golan it was the turn of Sinai, the west bank of the Suez Canal, Sharm-el-Sheikh, and the navy. The Lubavitchers boarded missile boats and all the other naval ships, where they were joyfully received by commanders and soldiers alike.

In the Golan they met Moshe Dayan and offered him liquor. He smiled and said he was pleased with this campaign. “You drink the mashke (liquor),” he said. “I will drink grapefruit juice.”

Wounded Man Recovered

As is the way with Chassidim, there was no lack of miracle stories, performed with the Rebbe’s power.

A few days earlier, a letter arrived from a wounded soldier who was hospitalized in Beer Sheva:

I am severely wounded. The pains in my foot are terrible. Yesterday, Chabad came and visited and brought mashke from the Rebbe’s kos shel bracha, and they gave out coins to keep and for tzedaka (charity). I did not drink immediately. I left the mashke for the next day. This morning, I woke up and put on tefillin, as the Chabadnikim suggested. I gave the coin to tzedaka and drank l’chaim from the Rebbe’s mashke.

What can I tell you? It’s unbelievable. The pain in my foot went away and I have already asked the nurse to try and get me out of bed. I am sure that I will be able to walk on my two feet. Please, write thanks to the Rebbe . . . . he is amazing . . . . he is amazing . . . . he not only cheered me up; he healed my foot.

The council chairman Kfar Chabad, Mr. Davidowitz, said that when he was at 770 for the High Holidays, the Rebbe gave him a bottle of liquor to distribute to Kfar Chabad. On his return home, the chairman heard that one of the young residents had been severely injured by a missile during a tank battle, which left him hospitalized and unconscious.

Immediately Mr. Davidowitz thought, “Perhaps this is what the Rebbe had in mind,” and he went to the hospital. Hearing that the soldier’s watch had stopped in the attack, Mr. Davidowitz told the doctor attendant that it was precisely that day and time when the Rebbe had given him the bottle of liquor. The doctor agreed to place a drop of the liquor into the man’s mouth.

To the amazement of the doctor, the man opened his eyes and regained consciousness.

Feivel Shapiro, a member of the Antwerp Jewish community, lost his mother early on when she sadly passed away after an illness. He was still a young child, only a tender 12 years old shortly before his Bar Mitzvah. She orphaned a home full of children. Under these harshest of circumstances he grew up and as time passed on matured into adulthood becoming a businessman and breadwinner in his own right.

Some twenty five years after his mother's tragic illness and passing, Feivel's business pursuits found him in New York City. During one of those hot NYC summer nights he came to 770 Eastern Parkway, the Lubavitch World Headquarters, to pray the evening service with the Rebbe's minyan.

After Maariv he noticed a commotion of people going in and out of the hallway adjacent to the Rebbe's study and it was obvious there was something going on. Asking around he found out that this was a night of "Yechidus," personal audiences with the Rebbe receiving people who had made appointments to come and hear the sage counsel of the great Jewish leader.

Feivel, a person who perhaps by virtue of his orphaned childhood, was not afraid of anything and a lively kind of fellow, was standing in the foyer outside of the Rebbe's room. He decided he was going to go in and see the Rebbe even though he did not have an appointment. Unassumingly he went over to the person in the front of the line and said, "I need to go in before you, as I urgently need to leave soon." And the person agreed.

The door opened, the person from the previous Yechidus came out, and Feivel walked into the Rebbe's room. The Rebbe's secretary was shocked by his chutzpah and followed him in, intending to shlep out the brazen intruder. The Rebbe looked up and told Feivel to sit down. The door closed. Silence.

Not having intended to be there, he did not bring along the traditional note outlining the requests, questions or concerns one would normally hand the Rebbe. He did even tell the Rebbe his name.

As if on cue, the Rebbe turned to a pile of letters, pulled the top one and began to read from it. It was a letter from Feivel's mother to the Rebbe from just over 25 years earlier! In the letter she wrote that she realized she was going to pass away but stated, "I am not concerned about myself. Rebbe, I am only asking you to arouse Rachamim Rabim, extraordinary mercy, from Hashem, on behalf of my children." She continued with a passionate plea that G-d should protect and bless her kinderlach, her children, soon to be left without a mother in this world.

Feivel was in shock and overwhelmed. He was just a child when his mother passed away. His childhood memories of her were all he really had to keep her with him. And he had never been aware that this letter of hers on behalf of him and his siblings even existed. Twenty five years later, her love and concern were still alive in the Rebbe's room.

But the greatest revelation was yet to come.

He asked the Rebbe if he could perhaps take the letter. The Rebbe gently requested otherwise.

"Before I go out to Kol Nidrei," (at which point he would first stop in the Little Shul and give the Yeshiva students the "children's blessings") he explained, "I read your mother's letter."

The two pleaded with Rabbi Pinchas Teitz to allow them to keep the book. He refused, saying that the Rebbe had instructed him to carry it with him, but had said nothing about giving it to anyone, To this day,” related Rabbi Teitz to a good friend Rabbi Halperin, “whenever I study something from this volume, or even happen to glance upon it, I recall this extraordinary episode and get excited all over again.”

Rabbi Yerachmiel Tiles, Director of the Ascent Institute, Safed, Israel

Surprise Package

Rabbi Pinchas Teitz of Elizabeth, NJ made twenty-two trips to the USSR in the 60s, 70s and 80s. Even in the heyday of the Communist empire and the secret police, he managed to secure permission for his visits. He had good contacts in the government, who trusted him. Nevertheless, he was often able to utilize his visits to smuggle in Jewish paraphernalia, such as tefillin and prayer books, for the benefit of the oppressed Russian Jews.

Although Rabbi Teitz was born, raised, and educated in Lithuania and its yeshivas, it was impossible to be involved in Jewish life in the Soviet Union in those days and not laud the activities of the Chabad Chassidim who had dedicated their lives for the preservation of Torah Judaism there. Thus, many times he merited to bring objects from the Lubavitcher Rebbe to his Chassidim in Russia, and vice versa.

Package Deal

One summer, while he was preparing for another trip, a representative of the Rebbe showed up at his house, bringing him a package of prayer books, Bibles, and several pairs of tefillin. This was no surprise: he was already used to and even expected the arrival of an emissary and the usual package.

But this time the messenger also took out a small-sized volume of Tanya, the seminal work of Chabad teachings, and handed it to the rabbi. He explained that the Rebbe had asked that Rabbi Teitz take it and carry it with him while in Russia, but didn't say whom to give it to.

“I was astonished,” related Rabbi Tetz afterwards. "To cooperate with the Rebbe to deliver basic Jewish necessities to the deprived Jews of Russia was one matter. But to go with a copy of Tanya in my luggage? To Russia? It seemed unnecessarily dangerous. The KGB knows very well what is a Tanya. What plausible explanation could I give if it were detected?”

In the end, he decided to take it. If the Rebbe was making such an unusual request of him, he must have a good reason.

Special Request

On the third day of his stay in Moscow, while passing a dark side street on the way back to his hotel from the Great Synagogue after the evening prayer, two young men suddenly approached him. They seized him by the arms and forced him to go quickly into a nearby parked car.

The Rabbi was taken by surprise and of course frightened. Were they the KGB? Was this a kidnapping?

His fears were soon dissipated, however as his two ‘snatchers’ turned out to be local Chabad Chassidim. They apologized for the rough treatment, explaining that this was the only means by which they could possibly bring him to a safe house without arousing suspicion, and they needed to discuss with him matters of emergency.

Only after they were safely in the house did the two introduce themselves. They said that after investigation they were assured he could be trusted, and that what they wanted of him was the delivery of a message to the Lubavitcher Rebbe for each of them. They had major life decisions to make for which they needed the Rebbe's input, and they couldn't wait for an emissary.

The older-looking one had recently learned out that the KGB was actively pursuing him, so he wanted to know if the Rebbe thought he should flee Moscow and move to another city, or should he remain despite the obvious danger in order to maintain and further his important educational activities in the Jewish underground, which the Rebbe already knew about.

The second, younger-looking one wanted the Rebbe's advice whether to apply for an emigration visa to Israel. Recently, a number of such requests had been approved. On the other hand, he currently held an excellent position as a top engineer, and submission of his request would quickly get him fired. Naturally, official refusal of his request would leave him without any means of support.

Rabbi Teitz was moved by this encounter and the fiery dedication of the two Chassidim. He promised to commit to memory their names, their mothers' names and their questions to the Rebbe, because writing them down and having such a paper in his possession would be much too dangerous.

Hidden Message

The three men then relaxed and engaged in conversation, marveling at the differences between their lives. The rabbi happened to mention that soon before his departure from home, the Rebbe had given him a copy of Tanya to keep with him on the way, but without explaining what should be done with it.

The eyes of the two Chassidim opened wide. “Do you mean to say that you have this Tanya from the Rebbe in your possession? Now? Here?” they exclaimed.

Rabbi Teitz silently withdrew the Tanya from his coat pocket and showed it to them. Eagerly they grabbed it from him and examined it from all sides and angles. Their excitement was palpable: clearly they were overjoyed to be holding a book that less than a week ago had been in the Rebbe's own holy hands.

However, it turned out there was more. While fondling the book, one of them shouted out in amazement and pointed to what their scrutiny had uncovered: a page slightly crimped by a folded top corner, as is sometimes done in place of a bookmark.

They opened to the page (162 in the standard edition; 630 in the bilingual) and read in awe the very first words: …he is extremely pressed for time and finds it utterly impossible to delay.

“That's it! That's my answer from the Rebbe!” cried out the older Chassid, visibly shaking with emotion. “The Rebbe is telling me to hurry and escape from here.”

The younger-looking Chassid quickly picked up the book and examined it even more closely, hoping to find another crimped page. And indeed, there was one!

Again they were overwhelmed. This time (38 in the standard edition; 134 in the bilingual) it only took two words: l'heekaneis l'aretz [to enter the Land].

“That's the answer for me!” he shouted. “I should apply to make aliyah to the Holy Land now.”

The two pleaded with Rabbi Teitz to allow them to keep the book. He refused, saying that the Rebbe had instructed him to carry it with him, but had said nothing about giving it to anyone.

“To this day,” related Rabbi Teitz to a good friend Rabbi Halperin, “whenever I study something from this volume, or even happen to glance upon it, I recall this extraordinary episode and get excited all over again.”

Final Word

Rabbi Teitz warned the editor not to publish the story, in order not to damage the Rabbi's relationships with his valuable contacts in Russia and the government's trust in him. On 17 Av 5744 [Aug. 15, 1984], the editor transcribed the story in its entirety and submitted it to the Lubavitcher Rebbe. He received a reply that very same day:

"I am pleased to receive this, but absolutely do not publicize it in any form at this time."

My name is Yonasan Wiener. I was born and bred in Melbourne, Australia, lived for a time in New York, and now I'm living and teaching in Jerusalem.

Before I relate the story of my meeting with the Lubavitcher Rebbe, I would like to express my gratitude for this opportunity to share it. I've been waiting for over 50 years to relate this story, so this goes to show that people should never give up hope, whatever they might be waiting for.

In the 1960s, my father won a Fulbright Scholarship to do cancer research at Columbia University in New York. So we packed up and temporarily moved to Flushing, New York, where my father's sister lived. While we were in New York, my father decided to visit the Lubavitcher Rebbe, and he took me and my mother along….

This is where my story begins.

Our appointment was for the 24th of July, 1962, for 10 p.m. My father, being extremely punctual, had us arrive 45 minutes early. We had a long wait because the Mayor of Jerusalem, Mordechai Ish-Shalom, pre-empted us and after him, came the Israeli Minister of Religion, Rabbi Yosef Borg.

We finally went in at 1 a.m.

I remember the Rebbe's office like it was yesterday. The walls were wood-paneled, and on the Rebbe's table - about the level of my nose - there was a big clock. It was late, and I was watching that clock.

The Rebbe spoke to my father about his cancer research at Columbia. He took a big interest in what my father was doing and, not only that, he knew exactly what my father was talking about. It was like a conversation between two scientists.

The Rebbe also took a keen interest in my mother's activities - she was the president of the Women's Auxiliary in Melbourne and, while in New York, she attended the conference of the Chabad organization for women and girls. The Rebbe wanted to hear firsthand from my mother about what exactly went on at that conference.

After he finished speaking with both my parents, the Rebbe turned to me. And my father nudged me. "Nu, maybe you have something that you would like to ask the Rebbe?"

I was nine years old, but I was not shy. I said, "Yeah, I have a question for the Rebbe."

The question I asked had to do with the song we sing at the start of the Shabbat evening meal, Shalom Aleichem. This song has four stanzas and in each stanza we refer to malachei shalom, "angels of peace," except for the first stanza, in which we refer to malachei hashereis, "ministering angels."

So I asked the Rebbe, "How come? Why are we not consistent and call them 'angels of peace' each time?"

The Rebbe looked at me intently. And I must say that by this time the Rebbe had been up the whole night seeing many people - some of them very important people - but when he spoke to me, I felt like I was the only person who existed in the world. And that he had all the time in the world for me, as if nothing and nobody else mattered.

The Rebbe said, "If you notice, the first two stanzas seem to be redundant. The first one says, 'Peace unto you, ministering angels,' and the second one says, 'May your coming be in peace, angels of peace.' It seems that both are greetings of welcome, so why do we need to welcome them twice?"

He went on, "I'll tell you the reason. There are two types of angels - weekday angels and Shabbos angels. The 'ministering angels' are the weekday angels of servitude, and we are not welcoming them, but saying good-bye to them. In Hebrew, hello and good-bye are the same word, Shalom, so in the first stanza we are really sending off these weekday angels because Shabbos has begun. After that, we are greeting the Shabbos angels, the 'angels of peace.' So none of this is redundant or superfluous."

With that, the Rebbe smiled at me and asked, "Do you understand?" And I nodded.

That happened in 1962 when I was nine years old - so this is going back 52 years. But I feel as if it was yesterday. I feel that the Rebbe is standing in front of my eyes now and speaking to me. That's the kind of strong impression he left on my mind.

In his book of memoirs “All the Rivers Run to the Sea,” Noble Prize Laureate and Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel tells the following episode.

At my first visit to the the Lubavitcher Rebbe's court [at 770 Eastern Parkway, in Brooklyn, NY]... I had informed him at the outset that I was a Chasid of Vishnitz, not Lubavitch, and that I had no intention of switching allegiance.

“The important thing is to be a chasid,” he replied. “It matters little whose.”

One year, writes Wiesel, during Simchas Torah, I visited Lubavitch, as was my custom.

“Welcome,” he said. “It's nice of a chasid of Vishnitz to come and greet us in Lubavitch. But is this how they celebrate Simchas Torah in Vishnitz?”

“Rebbe,” I said faintly, “we are not in Vishnitz, but in Lubavitch.”

“Then do as we do in Lubavitch,” he said.

“And what do you do in Lubavitch?"

"In Lubavitch we say L’chayim.”

“In Vishnitz, too.”

“Very well. Then say L’chayim.”

He handed me a glass filled to the brim with vodka.

“Rebbe,” I said, “in Vishnitz a Chasid does not drink alone.”

“Nor in Lubavitch,” the Rebbe replied.

He emptied his glass in one gulp. I followed suit.

“Is one enough in Vishnitz?” the Rebbe asked.

“In Vishnitz,” I said bravely, “one is but a drop in the sea.”

“In Lubavitch as well.”

He handed me a second glass and refilled his own. He said L’chaim, I replied L’chaim, and we emptied our glasses.

“You deserve a brocha (blessing),” he said, his face beaming with happiness. “Name it.”

I wasn't sure what to say.

“Let me bless you so you can begin again.”

“Yes, Rebbe,” I said. “Give me your brocha.”

And the Rebbe blessed Eli Wiesel to begin his life anew. The man who was still tormented by the horrors of “Night” (the name of his first book), where he saw the most horrific sights the human eye could endure, the individual who refused to marry and have children feeling that it is unfair to bring Jewish children into such a cruel and brutal world, ultimately rebuilt his life from the ashes, creating a family, and becoming a spokesman for hope and conscience the world over.

Though I [Rabbi Aaron L. Raskin] was just a teenager, I’ll never forget the day I was sitting at ULY (United Lubavitch Yeshiva, in Brooklyn) when my English teacher, George Landberg, put down his chalk and interrupted the lecture. He was a fine teacher. Usually he liked to talk to us about literary things like onomatopoeia in poems or characters in fiction. But that day he told us an amazing story that was not fiction, but pure fact. A real miracle of tefillin had occurred to real people…him and his tragically blind son, Daniel.

Daniel Landberg was born in 1973 with normal eyesight. New York State law at that time required the eyes of all newborns to be treated, as a prophylactic measure against infection, with a one percent silver nitrate solution while still in the hospital.An inexperienced nurse’s assistant, on duty in the delivery room that day, picked up a stick of silver nitrate intended for cleaning the area of the umbilical cord, a medication seventy times stronger than the one percent intended for ophthalmologic use and highly corrosive, and tragically used it on Daniel’s eyes. As a result, both the infant’s eyes were burned by the chemical solution, his skin scarred, and his eyelashes gone. Worst of all, he was blinded.

For three weeks, Daniel remained in the hospital, receiving antibiotic treatments and getting tests from one specialist after another in an attempt to cure him. None of the doctors believed Daniel’s sight would return. To make matters worse, each was more callous than the next in their treatment of the frantic parents. Why was this couple even bothering? It was clear their child would forever be blind.

A window of hope opened when Dr. Albert Hornblass took up their case, though not quite in the way the Landbergs expected. Dr. Hornblass was an ophthalmologist who, two years earlier, had returned from Vietnam, was an expert in chemical burns and, importantly, an observant Jew. Hornblass applied himself to Daniel’s case with a prognosis for healing that others had ignored. He wrote to the Center for Disease Control in Washington and obtained their permission to treat Daniel with steroids that had not yet been approved.2

He also took a more personal interest in Daniel’s healing, suggesting more spiritual, Jewish channels of healing. In particular, he shared with the couple how a healing from G-d had occurred for him, personally. His own father had suffered a heart attack, and the prognosis was very, very bad. A religious man, he wrote to the Lubvitcher Rebbe asking for a berachah. He received one, and within a week, his father was cured. Might not the Landbergs do the same?

Meeting the Rebbe

Fortunately, the means to implement the doctor’s suggestion were close at hand. George already had a connection to Lubavitch, having worked at ULY for ten years, and his boss and principal, Rabbi Tenenbaum, had personal access to the Rebbe. Landberg asked Tenenbaum to approach the Rebbe. Tenenbaum agreed and in no time was face-to-face with the Rebbe in private audience, beseeching him on Daniel’s behalf.

The Rebbe gave his blessing

One week later, the Landbergs got a call from Dr. Hornblass in the hospital, "I’m witnessing a miracle," he told them, "I’m watching all the conjunctiva and stain ooze out of Daniel’s eyes. I dare say I’m confident his vision will return!" Indeed, within a short time, Daniel was no longer blind.

The Rebbe didn’t exact any payment or thanks, but Rabbi Tenenbaum pursued Landberg. "You owe us," he asserted. "Now you must lay tefillin every day!"

At first, Landberg was stunned; he didn’t have the mitzvah of tefillin anywhere on his personal spiritual radar, so it was unfamiliar to him.

But he was a good father, and he saw an inkling of what Tenenbaum was after. No matter how skeptical he was, he observed. The road to medically ensure Daniel’s newfound sight was a long and often hard one, but through it all, every day, George Landberg laid tefillin.

Daniel was only six months old when he developed cysts on his cornea, a condition that would require surgery. But Dr. Hornblass had strong feelings against it. The child had so many steroids in his system, anesthesia would be risky. He delayed the surgery. Then one night, little Daniel rubbed his eyes in his sleep and broke the cysts. NO surgery was necessary.

As a preschooler, Daniel, like all small children, touched everything around him, including the floor and his eyes. As a result, the Landbergs were constantly at the eye doctor for treatment of eye infections, some so severe they oozed pus.

When Daniel was ten, a different sort of cyst developed on his eyelid that would affect the shape of his cornea. Surgery was required. When the surgeons went to remove the cyst, they also removed a great deal of scar tissue on the underside of his eyelid, further relieving the pressure on his cornea and improving his vision.

And today

Years passed. Today Daniel is in his forties. His vision isn’t perfect, but it is amazingly good, and the only physical damage remaining is a scar on the cornea of his right eye. He drives a car, coaches high school football, and has a child of his own. What’s more, Daniel lays tefillin every day and is passing his connection to the mitzvahto his young son. He knows, without questions, that health andtefillin go together.

"We do feel it was all miraculous," Rita Landberg, Daniel’s mother, concludes. There was this special berachah. It was miraculous that we found Dr. Hornblass and had a connection to Rabbi Tenenbaum, and that he, in turn, got a private audience with the Rebbe. Tefillin will always be intertwined with Daniel’s wellbeing. There is no doubt his health is directly connected to the mitzvah."

I can attest that what Rita Landberg says is true. The mitzvah of tefillin is directly caught up with her family’s health and wellbeing. I heard at school one day that George Landberg had fallen down the stairs at home and injured himself. Had he put on tefillin that day? No. He’d skipped it! He went right back up the stairs and put it on. Never again did he miss a day.

Thus, it was my English fiction teacher who taught me a Torah fact. When we observe the mitzvahsassiduously, carefully, and without fail, we ourselves bring down enough power to transform darkness, quite literally, into light.

For another story in this email series with Dr Hornglass that occurred several decades later, click here.

The entire story of Daniel’s amazing recovery was documented by Dr. Hornglass in 1976 in the New York State Journal of Medicine; it is archived only at the NYU Health Sciences Library, reference cited as: New York State Journal of Medicine. Hornblass; October, 1976; Issue II;"Sever silver nitrate ocular damage: in newborn nursery"; pp. I,875-8. [Many state statutes requiring treating newborns’ eyes with 1% silver nitrate have been changed in favor of less caustic treatments with fewer chances for error. Silver nitrate as treatment was a law in place for a century prior; cases like Daniel’s over the course of many years influenced this change in medical policy.]

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