Special Delivery

The Rebbetzin sent this telegram to the Notiks on the day of their marriage. Rabbi Notik pointed out that even though he received wishes of Mazal Tov from the Rebbetzin in person, she still went out of her way and sent it formally, in writing, the day of their celebration - as was customary in those days.

Around the time of the wedding, the Rebbetzin returned to Rabbi Notik the wedding invitation return envelope, in which the Rebbetzin included a monetary gift for the couple. She said they should spend it on something for the house. With the money Rabbi Notik bought an air-conditioner. When he told the Rebbeztin what he had spent it on, she was pleased. She felt that it was money well spent.

There was a lady who lived in Crown Heights above the old Albany Bakery and she realized that every morning at the same time a car would pull up to the bakery with the Rebbetzin in and her driver. The driver would park, come out of the car into the bakery and buy bread and pastries probably for the Rebbe. The lady lived above the bakery and when she had guests over at her apartment she would close the blinds or divert them away from the windows in order not to disturb the Rebbetzin. One day a lady came over who had been married for eight years without having been blessed with children. So the lady of the house said “I usually don't do this but this is an exceptional case” she told her to go outside and stand on the sidewalk where the Rebbetzin's car would arrive shortly. The Rebbetzin's car pulled up and the Rebbetzin opened the window slightly and gave a glance at the young lady who had positioned herself next to the Rebbetzin's window. Nine months later the lady gave birth to a beautiful baby.

She, too, can bless

The Rebbetzin, Chaya Mushka enjoyed flowers all her life. When it came to be her and the Rebbe's 50th wedding anniversary Nishei Chabad sent a big bouquet of flowers to the Rebbetzin and included with the flowers a card addressed to her with requests for blessing for women who were married but weren't able to have children yet and were asking for brorchos for children. They brought the flowers to the Rebbetzin and took out the card to take to the Rebbe. The Rebbe looked at the card and when he saw that it was addressed to the Rebbetzin he said “this is addressed to my wife please take it to her” The man, Mr. Halberstam said that these were requests for blessings. So the Rebbe said, “she too can bless”. Then the Rebbe said further that Chassidus explains that there are two kinds of light, memale kol almin and soviv kol almin, a light that fills the worlds and a light that “surrounds” the worlds. When the Rebbe blesses his blessing are a level of memale and a person has to do something in this world like a good deed in order to get those blessing to manifest in this world. When the Rebbetzin blesses her blessings are on a level of sovev and when she blesses a person does not even have to do anything and the blessings materialize in the world.

A reflection

The three Chassidim were traveling together, pursuing an urgent matter of askonus haklal. One of them was the celebrated chossid R’ Itche der masmid, who was renown for his refinement.

During there travels, they had to meet in a hotel. In this hotel, one wall of the lobby was adorned with a large and beautiful floor to ceiling mirror. In the middle of their meeting, R’ Itche suddenly jumped up, and ran towards the mirror. Then, as he was about to reach it, he – just as abruptly – turned around, and returned abashedly to his place.

When his colleagues asked him for an explanation, R’ Itche, who had never had reason or inclination to observe his own reflection, and thus had no way of knowing what he looked like, clarified as follows: “Ich hob gezehn a Yid mit a hadras ponim, bin ich gleich tzugegangen geben em sholom: [I saw a dignified-looking Jew, so I immediately went to greet him].

Rebbe Picture

A bochur (who is today a zeideh many times over . .) was once in yechidus. At the end of his yechidus, the Rebbe remarked to him: “Az du zest az dein nefesh habehamis tzuvildevit zich, nem arois a bild fun Rebbin un kuk oif dem” [if you notice your NHB getting out of hand, take out a picture of the Rebbe and look at it].

Hidurim

R’ Hillel Paritcher was extreme in his hiddurim in the fulfillment of mitzvos. He once explained that his sole objective with all of his hiddurim is “az ess zol zich opleigen a vort chassidus” (that he should truly grasp the ideas of Chassidus).

A Jew in Dakar

Rabbi Yosef Wineberg served as a Chabad-Lubavitch emissary for the sixth Chabad Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, of righteous memory, and the Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson. Rabbi Wineberg undertook missions to South Africa, Brazil, and other countries, reaching out to Jews and inspiring identity and observance.

In the early 1950s, Rabbi Wineberg went for a private audience with the Rebbe prior to traveling to South Africa. At the audience, the Rebbe asked him: "Do you stop in any other countries on your way to South Africa?"

Rabbi Wineberg told him that the plane made occasional stops for refueling, but these were for brief intervals. To this the Rebbe replied: "Do you not stay in any place for a day or two?" Rabbi Wineberg answered him that this was not the plan. Toward the end of the audience, the Rebbe again asked Rabbi Wineberg if he was planning to stop in any other countries on the way.

Rabbi Wineberg had been working with the Rebbe long enough to appreciate that this was not ordinary curiosity. When he came home, he told his wife that although he was scheduled to arrive in South Africa on Wednesday, she should not be disappointed if a telegram does not arrive before Shabbat, for from the Rebbe's words, it appeared that he would be delayed for a day or two and would not necessarily have the opportunity of communicating before Shabbat began.

As Rabbi Wineberg prepared to board the plane, he noticed that one of his acquaintances, Rabbi Lenger (of Ganeles-Lenger wines) was also planning to board the flight. They both appreciated the advantage of having each other as company on the long journey.

One of the refueling stops for the journey to South Africa was Dakar, a small country on the West African coast. As they were preparing to deplane there, the crew announced that the stay would be prolonged slightly because they were experiencing certain technical difficulties.

They deplaned at 10 PM. As Rabbi Wineberg was sitting in the lobby, he noticed a young man looking at him intently. When Rabbi Wineberg took off his hat and revealed a skull-cap, kippah, the man approached him and introduced himself as Mr. Pinto, a Sephardic Jew from Egypt. He had been in Dakar for six months and hadn't seen a Jewish face. He missed the Jewish involvement which he had experienced at home, and he was worried about the effect living in such a Jewish wasteland would have on his children.

Rabbi Wineberg explained to him that he could maintain a stronger sense of Jewish identity by intensifying his Jewish observance. "Do you have tefillin here?" Rabbi Wineberg asked him, of the small black leather boxes containing scrolls of biblical passages that are wrapped on the arm and head of adult men during weekday morning prayers.

"Yes," Mr. Pinto answered. He did have tefillin, but unfortunately, he had fallen out of the habit of putting them on each day.

"When your children see you putting on tefillin daily," Rabbi Wineberg told him, "the concept of being Jewish will mean much more to them. They will have a tangible example of what being Jewish means."

Mr. Pinto promised to put on tefillin daily. He and Rabbi Wineberg talked for a few more minutes, and then Rabbi Wineberg was called back to his plane. Rabbi Wineberg felt that perhaps his conversation with Mr. Pinto was the reason for the delay and with that he would have fulfilled whatever intent the Rebbe had in mind when speaking about a stop on the way to South Africa.

Apparently, this was not the case. After a few hours of flying, the crew announced that they were experiencing engine trouble and would have to return to Dakar. After they deplaned, the passengers were informed that one of the plane's engines had burnt out and it would be two or three days before it could be replaced.

Rabbi Wineberg's companion, Mr. Lenger, was worried. It was already past midnight Wednesday morning. If the delay was more than two days, it would be questionable whether they would arrive before Shabbat. Rabbi Wineberg calmed him; the Rebbe had spoken to him about a delay for a day or two, no longer.

After being placed in a local hotel and resting for several hours, Rabbi Wineberg set out to look for Jews. That was not an easy task in Dakar, for there were few in the country. Many of the people had not even heard what a Jew was.

He was able, however, to locate a store whose owner was reputed to be Jewish. Rabbi Wineberg entered the store and asked for the owner. He was introduced to a young man named Clement. Was he the owner of the store?

No, he was the owner's nephew.

Was he Jewish?

Yes, he was.

Clement talked freely with Rabbi Wineberg. He came from Lebanon. He felt the financial opportunities open for him in Dakar were worth undertaking the difficulties of leaving home and a familiar environment. He and his uncle know of four other Jewish families.

Rabbi Wineberg spoke to him about Jewish involvement and practice. Clement acknowledged that he had been lax in this area.

"Do you have tefillin here?" Rabbi Wineberg asked.

Clement admitted that he had left his in Lebanon.

"Would you put on tefillin if I sent them to you?"

Clement promised that he would.

They talked for a while longer, and Rabbi Wineberg sensed a genuine warmth on Clement's part. "Today is also a day," he told him. "Come with me and put on tefillin now."

Clement agreed and went with Rabbi Wineberg to his hotel room. As they were returning to the store, they met Mr. Pinto, who expressed his surprise at seeing Rabbi Wineberg still in the city.

Rabbi Wineberg explained about the engine trouble his plane had experienced and then introduced Clement. "You had complained of being in Dakar for six months without meeting another Jew," he told Mr. Pinto. "I've been here less than a day, and I have been able to find one."

Rabbi Wineberg spent the majority of the next day with Clement, developing a relationship with him. Clement took him sightseeing and they talked freely. One subject bothered Rabbi Wineberg and as the connection between them grew, he felt free to broach the issue. "What about marriage?" he asked Clement. "What chance is there of you finding a Jewish girl here in Dakar?"

Clement had to admit that there was almost no opportunity. "Promise me that you will never marry out of the faith," Rabbi Wineberg told Clement. Clement made the promise, telling Rabbi Wineberg that the time they had spent together had made an indelible impression upon him.

Rabbi Wineberg's plane was fixed in time for him to arrive in South Africa before Shabbat. At his first opportunity, he wrote a letter to the Rebbe describing his experiences in Dakar. The Rebbe sent tefillin and prayer books for the community there.

Throughout the months that followed, Rabbi Wineberg maintained a connection with Clement and Mr. Pinto, sending them cards for the High Holidays and letters from time to time. Before Passover, the Rebbe instructed his personal secretary, Rabbi Hodakov, to send matzah, the special thin bread eaten on the holiday, to Dakar.

When the matzah arrived, Clement and Mr. Pinto decided to make a communal Passover feast, known as the Seder. At the Seder, they spoke emotionally of the Rebbe's commitment to Jews throughout the world, how sitting in New York, he senses the longing within the heart of a Jew in Africa to maintain contact with his Jewish roots. After Passover, they wrote the Rebbe a moving letter thanking him and describing the Seder.

The following summer, Rabbi Wineberg had an audience with the Rebbe before leaving on a mission to Brazil and South Africa. "You will be stopping in Dakar," the Rebbe said with a smile. "Why not spend a few days there even if the plane is in order? This time, you can notify the people before you come."

Rabbi Wineberg notified his friends in Dakar, and they arranged a get-together of the entire community.

There was only one unpleasant element of the trip; Rabbi Wineberg saw that Clement was still single. "Do you remember your promise?" Rabbi Wineberg reminded him. Clement answered affirmatively. He explained that he had traveled to France to look for a Jewish girl to marry, but had not met anyone. "But," he assured Rabbi Wineberg, "there is no reason to worry. I will never marry out of the faith."

Several months afterwards, Rabbi Wineberg received a wedding invitation in the mail from Clement (and a second invitation to forward to the Rebbe). Clement had gone back to Lebanon to look for a wife. He had found a Jewish girl whom he would be marrying and then they would return to Dakar. "When I received that letter," Rabbi Wineberg explained, "I felt that my mission in Dakar had been completed."

L’chayim for those that believe themselves to be present here

Once, during a farbrengen, the Rebbe was giving brochos to the Jews in Russia. The Rebbe said “L’chayim far di vos zennen nisht do” [L’chayim on behalf of those who are unable to be here (physically), i.e. the Jews trapped behind the iron curtain]. The Rebbe then paused, and continued with an additional brocho – “L’chayim far di vos meinen az zei zennen doh, ober zei zennen nisht doh” [L’chayim for those that believe themselves to be present here, but are in fact not here at all].

Greeting the mirror

The three Chassidim were traveling together, pursuing an urgent matter of askonus haklal. One of them was the celebrated chossid R’ Itche der masmid, who was renown for his refinement.

During there travels, they had to meet in a hotel. In this hotel, one wall of the lobby was adorned with a large and beautiful floor to ceiling mirror. In the middle of their meeting, R’ Itche suddenly jumped up, and ran towards the mirror. Then, as he was about to reach it, he – just as abruptly – turned around, and returned abashedly to his place.

When his colleagues asked him for an explanation, R’ Itche, who had never had reason or inclination to observe his own reflection, and thus had no way of knowing what he looked like, clarified as follows: “Ich hob gezehn a Yid mit a hadras ponim, bin ich gleich tzugegangen geben em sholom: [I saw a dignified-looking Jew, so I immediately went to greet him].

Stealing from Hashem

A certain Rov had studied in his youth in Litvishe Yeshivos, and later transferred to Chassidishe yeshivos. In his early education, there was not much emphasis placed on the importance of making brochos before eating, thus it came about that he was occasionally lax in this area. After he came to appreciate its’ importance, he resolved to correct this, and when he was subsequently in yechidus by the Rebbe, he asked the Rebbe for a tikkun.

He expected the Rebbe to give him some tikkun or other, and the matter would be ended, he was therefore surprised to see the Rebbe react with shock. The Rebbe began to tremble visibly, and the Rebbe asked him loudly: “How can one put food in one’s mouth without a brocho?! Chazal tell us that one who enjoys the world without a brocho is like stealing from Hashem, how, then, can one have the nerve to steal from Hashem?!”

Open our eyes

In 5751 the Rebbe said, and repeatedly, that everything that needed to be done has already been done, and all that remains is to be mekabel pnei Moshiach Tzidkeinu. The Rebbe said that Moshiach is already here, and his impact on the world is already being felt, and that all that we have to do is to open up our eyes.

The Rebbe said that if 10 of us or 3 of us would put our minds to it stubbornly and single-mindedly, we would bring about the coming of Moshiach.

Sfekos in Emuna

A young man, we’ll call him Morris Cohen (not his real name) studied at Yeshiva University, and received his Rabinic ordination (a.k.a semicha) there. As an official Rabbi, he received an offer to lead a community in the small town of B, in the mid USA. Morris moved to B, and began performing his new duties with enthusiasm, meeting with much success. However, as time passed, he found his enthusiasm waning. And not only his enthusiasm towards his job; in fact, he was beginning to find himself uninspired about his Yiddishkeit altogether. By and by, he started entertaining doubts about some of the fundamental concepts of Emunah, and he was very troubled about them.

Morris didn’t know where to turn. He definitely did not see himself as a worthy Rabbi, and he was beginning to question whether or not he was a properly believing Jew. He was afraid to discuss his issues with any of his mentors or teachers from YU, because he feared that if they knew what was going on in his mind, they would immediately (perhaps justifiably) revoke his semicha. He was embarrassed to confide in any of his family members, and he felt that any of his colleagues would either not understand him, or were worse off than him.

Contemplating his dilemma, he finally realized that the only one to whom he could turn for help is the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Encouraged by the very idea, he immediate telephoned the mazkirus (the Rebbe’s secretariat). He did not tell them his name (and, although I’m sure not many of you remember this, but there was a time when there was no such a thing as caller ID), introducing himself merely as a Jew from B who would like to speak to the Rebbe.

The Rebbe’s secretary consulted with his calendar, and informed Morris that he would have an appointment on a Tuesday night, at 1:00 a.m., in 3 months. Morris was shocked. He didn’t believe that he could survive another 3 months! He tried to impress upon the mazkir the urgency of the matter, explaining that he was in a dire circumstance, and needed help with sfeikos in emunah etc. Taken aback, the secretary asked him to wait a moment.

A moment later, the mazkir was back on the phone, with the following message: The Rebbe said to tell you that in your city, in B, there is a Rabbi Morris Cohen. You should go and speak to him, and we will be able to provide you with help for all of your problems!

Morris was flabbergasted! Firstly, that the Rebbe even knew that he existed! And moreover, the confidence that the Rebbe had in his ability to provide guidance to a wayward Jew! That was enough to give him the jolt he needed and set him back on track.

Subsequently, Morris did meet with the Rebbe a number of times. He went on to accomplish great things, and he attributed them all to the Rebbe.

Vos iz mit ahavas Yisroel?

Rabbi Shmuel Dovid Raichik had a close friend, by the name of R’ Shlomo, who had learned with him in Otvotzk. When the friend decided to move to Los Angeles, he contacted Rabbo Raichik to ask him to intervene on his behalf to help him get settled. R’ Shmuel Dovid promised he would do what he could. Unfortunately, however, Rabbi Raichik’s effort did not bear the anticipated results, and R’ Shlomo put the blame on him. Having been close friends for so many years, he felt hurt and betrayed, and harbored ill feelings towards Rabbi Raichik, who he felt had let him down.

Many years passed, with the relations between them broken down because of R’ Shlomo’s bitterness. One day, Rabbi Raichik was in New York, and he was called into the mazkirus and informed that the Rebbe had inquired about R’ Shlomo. Helplessly, R’ Shmuel Dovid replied that there had been no contact between them for years because of R’ Shlomo’s “broigez” against him. Without delay came the Rebbe’s response: “Vos iz mit ahavas Yisroel”!

[It goes without saying that, after that answer, Rabbi Raichik spared no effort, and the relationship was eventually repaired].

Lighting up souls

A group of college students were once in yechidus by the Rebbe, during which the Rebbe spoke to them, after which they had the opportunity to ask questions. One of them asked the Rebbe: “Rabbi, what do you do for a living?”

The Rebbe responded: “You know that every house gets heat and light through electricity. Where does the electricity come from? Near Niagara Falls there are generating stations, which take the tremendous energy from the currents, and transform it into electricity. This is then brought via electric cables to every city. In every city there is an electric company, from where the electricity is sent to the various neighborhoods. Then there are smaller wires that bring the electric force into each individual home.

However, even after the electric power enters a home, the home may still be enveloped in darkness. It is necessary for someone to flick a switch, in order to channel that electricity into actual light.

“The same is true”, the Rebbe continued, “with every soul. There is an “electric generator” in heaven, the root of all souls, that generates tremendous G-dly force. This is then contracted and brought down, until it is directed into every Jewish soul. Every Yiddishe neshomo is in possession of this tremendous force that can serve as a source of warmth and illumination in his life. However there is a need for the person to do something – to flick a switch – to actually take advantage of this potential. My job”, the Rebbe concluded, “is to guide people and assist them in flicking their switch”!

Learning at home

A couple from Brazil were once in yechidus by the Rebbe. The wife was saying that she wanted to move away from Brazil, because she didn’t see good opportunities for chinuch for her son (children?) there. The Rebbe, in response, shared with them the following episode from his own youth:

‘When I was a child (5 or 6?), my father was unhappy with the absence of an environment of learning in Yeketrinislav, and felt that it was time to send me away to one of the bigger out of town Yeshivos. My mother, however, wouldn’t hear of it. ‘My son (and the Rebbe said his name) to send away?!’ And she prevailed; - I remained learning in my home town all of the ensuing years.

‘And you see’ the Rebbe concluded with a smile, ‘I didn’t turn out so bad’ (or he said ‘I turned out OK’).

Driver's License

A bochur once wrote to the Rebbe, informing the Rebbe of his intention to get a driver’s license. The bochur explained to the Rebbe (in his letter), that his purpose in getting (needing) the license was in order to be able to be more effectively involved in mivtzoim.

The Rebbe’s response was quick to arrive: “Vos shlepst du mir arein in dain nefesh habehamis” [Why are you dragging me into your nefesh habehamis]!

Igros and the mikva

There is a certain Lubavitcher Chossid that works in the food business in Europe. Once, he got a small order from a frum family in a nearby city for some products. Being that the order was small, he told the customer that he won’t be making a special trip just to deliver the order. However, something came up and he was planning on making a big delivery 20 minutes away so he decided to go a little out of his way and provide the kosher food. Upon arrival at that house, the lady that ordered the food started complaining to him that her two daughters were married for some time already and neither had any kids. After thinking for a couple of minutes, he told the lady about how, even now, we are able to get brochos and answers from the Rebbe and introduced her to the concept of putting letters into Igros. After explaining and getting the lady to agree to do whatever the answer would be, she wrote a letter and looked up an answer online (being that no Igros were around). The letter that they “browsed” to said that the mikva that they were using wasn’t kosher – to make sure to go to a kosher mikva. (They were using the mikva in their city that had some shailos, the modern-Orthodox rav in the city ruled that it was kosher). He didn’t hear from the family for some time. The next time that he got an order from this lady, one of the daughters had twins and the other one had given birth as well. All due to the letter from the Rebbe

A Dollar

A woman from Sydney Australia who was learning more about Yiddishkeit and becoming more observant found her curiosity piqued when a "Rebbe dollar" was auctioned off in a Chabad fundraiser for seven thousand dollars. When the significance of the dollar was explained to her it aroused in her a desire to receive somehow or other her own Rebbe dollar, and this desire grew greater and greater as she tried to devise ways to realize it.

Her husband had study sessions with Robert Krimniser (sp?), an Australian business man who visited the Rebbe numerous times and merited to be by Yechidus on several occasions. She figured that he would be a good resource to turn to, and requested from her husband to tell Robert the next time they studied together how much she wanted a Rebbe dollar and ask whether he could help her get one.

Despite the discomfort her husband acceded to his wife's wishes. When Robert heard the request he said that the couple should come to him for Shabbos.

After Shabbos he brought the couple into his study, and opening a sefer on the shelf he removed a dollar and gave it to them. Emotionally he told them that this dollar he had received from the Rebbe seventeen years earlier with instructions to "give it to the Jewish woman in Sydney when she will ask for it"!

Bring Moshiach now!

A very prominent Rov and poseik was once by the Rebbe for dollars, and the Rebbe instructed him to pasken that Moshiach should come. The Rov gestured with his hands, and the Rebbe said to him (not the exact words): “Vos macht ir mit di hent, men meint bepoiel mamosh” ( - I am not telling you to get excited, to gesticulate with your hands, to go through any type of motions. I am instructing you in something practical and actual: Bring Moshiach now!

Bob Dylan and the dog

Someone (I think it was Rabbi Feller but I´m not sure) was being mekarev Bob Dylan (I won’t try to explain to any of you who he is . .) and it was around chaf beis shvat, and he told Bob to come bemenachem avel the Rebbe, so Bob came and he calls the shliach to say he is outside, and the shliach came out and saw that in the back of Bob´s van was a huge dog, so he asked what’s with the dog? So Bob says "it's for the Rebbe". So the shliach answers "Bob, the Rebbe has enough dogs"

Veod vehu haikkar

An Israeli guest once visited the Rebbe for the first time, and attended his first farbrengen. After the farbrengen was over, his host noticed that he was very excited. ‘What did you get so impressed by?’, he asked him, ‘I didn’t think that you understood any Yiddish?’

‘I don’t,’ was the visitors reply, ‘but there was one Hebrew phrase that the Rebbe was constantly repeating, from which I gathered what his entire philosophy is, and this was enough to excite me. The Rebbe continuously repeated the phrase “ve’od vehu ha’ikkar”. From this I understood that the Rebbe’s philosophy is that the ikkar, the main thing, is “ve’od” to always increase, to do a little more and a little more!’

No Bank Account

R’ Herschel Ceitlin was a very chassidisher yid. When the Rebbe spoke about the importance of everyone owning their own home (and not just renting), and that those who don’t yet own a house should buy one, R’ Heshel was thrown into a quandary. The money was not the issue; rather, it was something much more technical. In order to buy a house, he would need to get a mortgage, and in order to get a mortgage, he would have to go through the various requisite steps in applying for one, that included having a chequing account in his own name.

So far so good, but Rabbi Ceitlin did not have a chequing account. Not an insurmountable difficulty yet, because anyone can open an account, except for the fact that R’ Heschel had never been in a bank before. As a matter of principle, he could not abide by the idea of entering a place that represented the pursuit of materialism and the avoda zara of money. He feared that such an atmosphere would detract from his chassidishkeit. Now he didn’t know how to carry out the Rebbe’s directives without compromising on his commitment.

(As a true chosid, he wrote the Rebbe about his doubts. I was never told what the Rebbe answered him, but the fact is that eventually he had his own home!)

The Rebbe's shoe

On one of the first occasions that R’ Reuven visited the Rebbe, he was present during a davening. While the Rebbe was davening, R’ Reuven observed that shoe was not on properly; the back of the shoe was bent in and it was undone.

[For many years the Rebbe had suffered great pains in his foot, preventing him from being able to put on that shoe properly. In fact, in the year 5747, when a custom-made car was manufactured for the Rebbe’s use (a gift that the Rebbe subsequently declined), one of the features it was built with was one that would accommodate the Rebbe’s foot ailment].

R’ Reuven assumed that the Rebbe had been in a rush to come to minyan, and did not have ample time to put on his shoe properly. Ever the devoted chosid, he immediately decided to rectify the situation himself. Thus, as the Rebbe davened, R’ Reuven crawled onto the floor by his feet, opened the shoe, pulled it over the Rebbe’s feet, and tied the laces.

However, as soon as the Rebbe completed his davening, he motioned to R’ Reuven that the shoe had in fact been that way intentionally. R’ Reuven didn’t hesitate, and immediately got back onto the floor and crawled over to the Rebbe’s shoe and restored it to its’ earlier state.

The 1

A shliach, we’ll call him Chaim, went out to a city to establish a Chabad House. Slowly but surely he built himself up, organizing all the usual programs and events.

After a while, he had established enough contacts, and experienced enough successes, to decide that he was ready to plan his first “major” event; - a Chanukah party in a rented hall (yes, this is a different story, and it is a truestory). Immediately his staff became involved in the myriad details involved in preparing an event on such a scale. From advertising to inviting, from designing to budgeting, they were up to their ears in work.

Slowly things began to take shape, and the team was filled with cautious optimism. While countless last minute details were being attended to, there was ample reason to anticipate a smashing success.

Finally the big day arrived. The chairs had been rented, the food was delivered, the hall was decorated, and the waiters were ordered. The sound-system was set up, special gifts for the children were acquired, a clown was on the way, and finally, well before zero hour, the family and staff went to get dressed for the celebration (making sure, of course, that none of their clothing was shatnez!)

Chaim came back, early enough, and made some last minute arrangements in the parking lot, to ensure that they could handle parking for extra cars should it become necessary. Then, having done his part, he went inside to prepare to greet the guests.

The program was only called for 8:00, and it was 7:30, so Chaim was finally able to relax slightly while he waited. He conversed calmly with one of his colleagues about some of the details of the evening.

After a while he glanced at his watch. 8:07. They were meant to start 7 minutes ago! Oh well, Jews (especially those who – he hoped – were heading towards becoming affiliated with Lubavitch) weren’t known for their punctuality. But, although not (yet) overly concerned, he relocated to the window, where he would glance towards the parking lot periodically.

8:20: Chaim was starting to get frantic. Where is everybody?! Chaim, by now, had moved to outside, and was peering up and down the street in all directions. Where are the hundreds of guests we were expecting?

8:30: Everyone is getting panicky. The adults are saying Tehillim fervently, and hoping against hope that there will still be an eleventh hour breakthrough (after all, the program was supposed to last at least until 10). The children are sampling the food from the vast containers (that appears now to be (for the most part) headed to waste).

8:45: A car pulls into the parking lot, and everyone holds their collective breath. It turns out to be one of the waiters they had ordered. Chaim, devastated, doesn’t have the ability to deal with him.

9:00: The hall is starting to look and feel like a funeral parlor. Chaim, very literally, feels like digging a hole and burying himself. How could things have gone so wrong?! The few staff are alternating between feelings of mourning, and pity for poor Chaim. Someone cracks a joke about them not needing to cook food for the foreseeable future. Nobody smiles.

9:23: Somebody, a stranger, wanders into the building and walks over to Chaim. “Excuse me Rabbi, but I heard there’s supposed to be some Hanuka party here tonight?!” Chaim is too embarrassed to look the guest in the face, and mumbles something about the event having been cancelled, while pointedly steering him towards the door. He sighs in relief when he hears the car drive off.

Somehow they survived the awful evening, cleaned up the hall, and got off to bed. The next day, a very disheartened Chaim wrote a depressing duch to the Rebbe with all the details about the grand Chanuka extravaganza that wasn’t, and how hundreds of expected attendees ended up being one hapless latecomer, who they had no choice but to send away.

The Rebbe responded (according to another version, I heard it was Rabbi Chodakov who made this point to him): “When you make an event, if you’re very successful, you may attract 1000 guests. In the course of the evening, you may manage to personally greet 100 of them. Of those, 10 may display enough interest to continue their connection with you. Of those 10, you may actually succeed in convincing one to change his life, to become a shomer Torah and Mitzvos, which was the ultimate goal of the entire event. Here, the Eibishter sent you that one person directly, the ultimate goal of your program, so that you can get directly to your objective without having to go through 999 nudniks en route, and you actually went and SENT HIM AWAY??!!”

The 12 Psukim

Among the terrible tragedies occurring in Israel are the incidences of intermarriages between Jewish women and Arab husbands rachmonoh litzlan. Besides the obvious spiritual tragedy of such a sinful union, and besides the absurdity of a Jewish woman joining her life with members of a nation bent on our destruction r”l, these unions invariably result in tragic consequences for the wayward woman in a very physical sense as well. Very soon after the “marriage”, the woman will discover that, rather than having become a wife, she has instead become a literal slave, forced to endure the most unspeakable tortures and abuse as part of her daily fare. Tragically, once settled in an Arab village she turns into a virtual prisoner, it being practically impossible to escape (not to mention that any such attempt would be risking her very life, should she be unsuccessful). She is, furthermore, powerless to save her children, once she realizes what she has submitted them to.

Boruch Hashem, numerous organizations are dedicated to addressing this pressing issue, and many daring rescue missions have been carried out, in which numerous of these hapless women were saved from their sorry fate. They were then placed into homes where they are provided with the assistance and support needed to recover from their terrible ordeal, and where they often become closer to the Yiddishkeit from which they had become estranged.

In one specific incident, one of these women was rescued together with her 2 young children. Trying to put her suffering (that she had brought upon herself by her foolishness) behind her, she tried to get on with her life. Unfortunately, her troubles were not over. Her Arab “husband” tracked her down, and stole back the two children.

Now, when the spouse forcibly takes the children, this becomes a legal matter, that makes it possible for the authorities to intervene and bring them back. However, in such situations, they are often faced by a serious obstacle: The mother will almost never venture back into the lions’ den, from which she would never emerge alive; thus, the police and/or soldiers would need to be the ones to identify the kidnapped children. The Arabs, therefore, in such situations, will bring numerous Arab children of the same age into the house (being searched), making it practically impossible for someone other than a parent to make positive identification of the particular child in question. This ploy successfully hindered the efforts of the Israeli authorities in many instances.

In this particular story, the soldiers informed the woman of the difficulty that they expected to encounter. She, however, was not daunted. “When you get into the house”, she said to them, “start screaming the Pesukim Shma Yisroel and Torah Tziva, and you’ll surely discover which are my children”.

The soldiers arrived at the house, where they found 30 young children scattered throughout the rooms (who had been brought there as a diversion, as they had feared). Following the woman’s advice, they began to loudly recite the pesukim. Suddenly, they heard a plaintive voice from the closet crying “IMA”. They opened the closet, and released a 4 year old girl. The girl pointed downwards, and the soldiers, following her directions, searched the basement, where they discovered her 2 year old brother wrapped in a rug.

After the successful conclusion of the rescue, the woman was asked what the rationale behind her plan was. She related the following by way of explanation:

“As I child I attended the mesibos Shabbos group, that was run by the Chabad shliach in the town in which I lived. Every Shabbos we were encouraged to scream the Pesukim, for which we would receive an “artik” (an ice cream bar).

When I was stuck with the Arab, and started having second thoughts about my actions, I resolved to try to impart as much Yiddishkeit as I can to my children. Since the only things Jewish that remained in my mind were the Pesukim that I used to so enthusiastically recite, I would spend every spare moment saying them with my children. It was for this reason that I was confident that if my children would only hear the pesukim they would immediately identify themselves”!

Tefillin and the dead arm

There's a Lubavitcher Yungerman, we’ll call him Moshe, who is an immigration lawyer for a multi-faceted law firm. Recently, the insurance litigation department of his firm took a client, an Iraqi gentleman, who was injured in a car accident and completely and permanently lost use of his left arm. The insurance company agreed to settle for half a million dollars. In the course of their dealings, they discovered that he had some immigration issues, so on this past Monday they sent him to Moshe's department to get things ironed out. Moshe landed the case. In the course of his interview he asked the Iraqi for his mother's maiden name, and he said "Zecharya". Moshe reacted with surprise and said "That's a Jewish sounding name!" "I know," said the Iraqi, "My mother was Jewish." "You know that means that you are Jewish!" Moshe informed him. "Yes," he said, "So I've been told."

"You know what?" said Moshe. "I have some Teffilin here. How would you like to do a mitzvah?" Moshe went on to explain to him what a mitzvah is and what Teffilin are. The gentleman agreed to put on Teffilin. As soon as he began, Moshe realized that it would be somewhat of a challenge, as the man could not move his left arm at all. Moshe had to manipulate the arm completely in order to get the Teffilin on, wrapped around correctly, and then removed.

Tuesday morning, this Iraqi showed up at the law office and demanded to speak with Moshe. As soon as he saw him, he expressed with great astonishment, "You would never believe this! When I woke up this morning, I have complete mobility in my left arm - something the doctors pronounced to be impossible! I am sure that it is due to the Teffilin that we put on yesterday!"

Rabbi Shochet and the Priest

Once, Rabbi Schochet was invited to speak by a gathering of priests, where he mentioned the following story:

 

During the time of the Tosfos Yom Tov, there lived a wealthy individual who ostensibly never contributed to charity. After this miser died, the Chevra Kadisha felt that he was unworthy of being interred next to any upright and respectable individual. They buried him in an area of the cemetery called hekdesh, where society's outcasts were buried.

 

A few days after the funeral, there was a tumult in Prague. Two prominent members of the community, the butcher and the baker, who had previously been extremely charitable and generous, suddenly stopped distributing their funds.

 

The poor people of the city, who had always relied on the benevolent pair for their sustenance, were in an uproar. Emotions ran so deep that the matter was finally brought before the Tosfos Yom Tov.

 

The Tosfos Yom Tov asked the butcher and baker why they had so suddenly stopped their acts of charity. In reply, they informed the Tosfos Yom Tov that they were not personally wealthy.

 

"We were only able to give so much charity because the 'miser' who died just a few days ago constantly supplied us with funds for charity. He strictly warned us, however, not to disclose from whence the money had originated, since he wanted the great merit of performing the mitzva anonymously. Now that he is gone, we no longer receive the funds, and are, unfortunately, unable to continue with this worthy work."

 

The Tosfos Yom Tov was so impressed by the modest behavior of this unassuming "miser" that in his own will he requested to be buried next to this humble man.

 

When my father completed his lecture, a participant from the audience, a priest, approached him and asked him to repeat the story. My father, about to return to his hotel, arranged a time to meet with the priest the following day. Thinking that the matter would be forgotten, my father was surprised when the priest actually arrived.

 

My father repeated the story for the priest but was astounded when, after concluding the story a second time, the priest seemed terribly disturbed and begged him to repeat it yet a third time.

 

Finally, the priest divulged the reason for his agitation. "Rabbi Schochet, that charitable man in the story was my ancestor."

 

Skeptically, my father calmed the young man saying that there was no connection between him and the story, which took place over 100 years ago. "Furthermore," he told him, "you are a gentile, while this man was a Jew."

 

The priest looked intently at my father and whispered, "Rabbi, now I have a story to tell you!"

 

He began by describing his background. He had grown up in the state of Tennessee. His father was a major in the U.S. Army during the Second World War. In Europe, his father had met a Jewish girl and fell in love with her. He brought her back home as his war bride, and no one knew of her Jewish background. A short time after their marriage, the couple was blessed with a child, who they devoutly raised in the Catholic Church. The child grew up and attended a seminary where he eventually trained to become a priest. In his early adulthood, the priest's mother died. On her deathbed, she disclosed her secret to her astonished son.

 

After reciting the Shema prayer, she confessed, "I want you to know that you are Jewish." She informed him of his heritage and told him that his great-grandfather was buried next to the well-known sage called the Tosfos Yom Tov. She then recounted, almost verbatim, the story that my father had told in his lecture.

 

At the time, the priest, who was unaware of this information, imagined that his mother was delirious. Although he felt uneasy about his mother's parting words, it was only a temporary, fleeting emotion. As he got on with his life, he soon forgot the entire episode.

 

"Rabbi," cried the priest, in a state of utter emotional turmoil, you have just repeated this story, detail for detail! You have just reminded me of my mother's parting words, and I realize now that the story must be true, or it wouldn't be so well known. Yet, what am I to do? I am a reputable priest with a large congregation of devoted followers."

 

My father offered to assist him in any way. He emphasized to him, however, that according to Jewish law, he was indeed Jewish. He encouraged him to explore his heritage, and he put him in contact with people in his city who could guide him. With that, the newly-found Jew departed. My father then understood why the Rebbe had suggested the topic matter.

 

He had no further interaction with the man, and did not hear from him again. Several years ago, when my father was on a visit to Israel. A Jew with a beard and a kipa approached him at the Western Wall and wished him "Shalom Aleichem!" My father, who didn't recognize the individual, was completely taken aback when the man exclaimed, "Don't you recognize me, Rabbi Schochet? I am the former priest whom you met in Buffalo."

Cherries

R’ Hillel was once visiting the Tzemach Tzedek. In honor of the illustrious guest, a bowl of cherries (strawberries?) – a delicacy at the time – was placed on the table.

Both the Rebbe the Tzemach Tzedek and R’ Hillel made a brocho, and partook of the treat. However, while the Tzemach Tzedek ate them whole, R’ Hillel first opened each one and carefully inspected it for worms and bugs. Only after assuring himself of it’s kashrus, did he place it in his mouth.

Some of the Chassidim, who were closely monitoring the visit of the famed chosid with the Rebbe, found the behavior of R’ Hillel an affront to the Tzemach Tzedek. As soon as R’ Hillel emerged from the room, he was accosted: “Hillel”, they demanded, “how could you act differently from the Rebbe in his presence? Are you perhaps more frum than the Rebbe?”

“It is very simple”, R’ Hillel reassured them, “the Rebbe, being a true tzaddik, can be assured that he will not encounter anything objectionable, as the Possuk says “לא יאונה לצדיק כל און”. Therefore he has no need to be overly cautious. I, on the other hand, have no such protection; I, therefore, have to personally verify the appropriateness of anything I take into my mouth”.

Eckvelt

Some 30 years ago, Rabbi Yitzchok Vorst, was just beginning his assignment as a Chabad representative in Amstelveen, Holland. Shortly before Passover, he received a phone call from Lubavitch Headquarters in Brooklyn. Rabbi Hodakov, the Rebbe's personal secretary, informed him that the Rebbe wants him to go to a certain small town and give shmura matza, the special matza hand-made from flour that was guarded against moisture, to the Jew that lived in that town. The young rabbi asked for the name of this Jew, whereupon he was informed that the Rebbe did not mention any names. Rabbi Hodakov assured him, though, that he would be able to locate him once he got to the town.

 

Rabbi Vorst attempted to explain that the town was many hours' drive from Amsterdam that he was busy making preparations for his first communal Seder in Holland and distributing matzos, and besides, he did not believe there were any Jews located in that town anyway. Rabbi Hodakov was adamant. The Rebbe said that he should leave tomorrow for this town. There was no choice.

 

The next morning Rabbi Vorst packed a lunch and spent the day driving to this secluded town. Once there he spent hours searching and inquiring for any Jews in the town, to no avail. He finally decided that the expedition was a total waste of time and went to fill his car with petrol for the return trip. The gas station attendant asked the rabbi what had brought him to town. Upon hearing his story the attendant replied that he believed that a worker at the local butcher shop was indeed Jewish.

 

With nothing to lose, Rabbi Vorst made his way to the shop. When he walked in, the man behind the counter took one look at him and fainted. When he revived he told Rabbi Vorst the following story:

 

His mother and he were the only survivors in his family of the Nazi horrors. They moved to this secluded part of Holland to avoid further persecution. On her deathbed, his mother made him swear never to marry a non-Jewish girl and always be true to his faith. That had been five years prior. For the last several months the local priest had frequented his shop and began proselytizing him. They would enter into long discussions, but for this man, conversion was out of the question.

 

Eventually, though, the priest began to make headway. One of his arguments G-d had abandoned the young man, as proved by the fact that he was the only Jew in the area.

 

Therefore he should convert and become part of a community.

 

After several months of being worn down, the young Jew agreed to be baptized. But, he insisted, first he wanted three days to think it over further.

 

He felt confused and depressed. He was indeed all alone. But how could he abandon his faith? How could he renege on the vow he made to his mother? He cried bitterly. Finally he called out to the Almighty, "I will wait for you, dear G-d, to show me a sign that you are still watching over me. If I do not see anything from you by 6:00 PM on the third day, I will convert!"

 

And so the man cried. For three days he became more morose. He found work impossible.

 

The third day had arrived and still no sign. The man spent the day looking at the clock. At lunch time he took a break and again beseeched the Almighty. There was less than six hours before he would agree to convert. During his 3:00 break the man again turned and prayed.

 

Now there was less than three hours. If he did not see some sign indicating that the G-d of the Jews still cared for him, he would be baptized.

 

As the minute hand passed the 5:00 mark, the man was besides himself. Perhaps the priest was right after all. Maybe it would be better for him to convert. The minutes ticked on. Each one felt like an entire hour. At 5:45, he began closing the store. At 5:55 PM Rabbi Yitzchok Vorst, armed with his matza from the Lubavitcher Rebbe, walked into this man's store.

 

After hearing this story, Rabbi Vorst begged the man to come back with him to Amsterdam and spend Passover. The man agreed. Every step of the way was a new beginning for this man. He had never been exposed to Judaism as his mother wanted to hide him from it. After Passover, he thanked the Rabbi and left.

 

Twenty-five years later, Rabbi Vorst traveled to Jerusalem for the wedding of a relative. He was praying devoutly at the Western Wall, deep in concentration, when he heard his name being called and felt a hearty slap across his back. He turned and saw a large, burly man. The man asked him in Dutch, "Rabbi, don't you recognize me, I am so and so from the town of …. I spent Pesach in your house one year. Now I live in Jerusalem with my family. I owe everything to you." Sometimes, it is possible to make a deal with the Almighty.