There is a Jew in Brooklyn who cannot sleep

The following story was related by Rabbi Chaim Tzvi Shwartz, a Munkatzer chosid, who settled in Brazil on the advice of the Rebbe.

One day, Rabbi Shwartz received a call from the parents of one of the children in the school that he ran, requesting a meeting. While this was a fairly common request, in this particular instance the anxiety in the voices on the phone indicated that this was no simple matter. He invited them to meet in his home that evening.

"This does not concern our son," began the father, "who is doing wonderfully in your school; rather, it is about our eldest daughter, who grew up here before you came. As you know, we are not very observant, but it is important to us that our children should retain their identity as Jews. This is why we send our son to your school, despite the fact that your school is considerably more 'religious' than ourselves.

"To get to the point, our daughter has informed us that she has fallen in love with a non-Jew and that they intend to marry. We have tried everything to dissuade her, but our arguments, appeals, threats and tears have all been to no avail. She now refuses to discuss the matter with us at all and has moved out of our home. Rabbi! You are our only hope! Perhaps you can reach her, perhaps you can impress upon her the gravity of the betrayal of her people, her parents and her own identity in what she intends to do!"

"Would she agree to meet with me?" asked Rabbi Shwartz.

"If she knew that we had spoken to you, she'd surely refuse", they replied.

"Then I'll go and speak to her on my own."

He took the address from her parents, and rang her bell that very evening. She was visibly annoyed to learn of the purpose of his visit, but too well-mannered not to invite him in. They spoke for several hours. She listened politely and promised to consider everything he said, but he came away with the feeling that little or nothing had been achieved.

For several days Rabbi Shwartz pondered the matter, trying to think of what might possibly be done to prevent the loss of a Jewish soul r”l. Then he remembered an avenue that he hadn’t yet pursued; - the Rebbe. He called the Rebbe's secretary, Rabbi Chodakov, related to him the entire affair, and asked for the Rebbe's advice as to what might be done. A few minutes later the phone rang. "The Rebbe says to tell the young woman," said Rabbi Chodakov, "that there is a Jew in Brooklyn who cannot sleep at night because she intends to marry a non-Jew."

The unexpected reply confused Rabbi Shwartz, and he didn’t immediately grasp what Rabbi Chodakov was saying. "Who is this Jew?" he blurted out.

Suddenly, he heard the Rebbe's voice on the other extension saying: "His name is Mendel Schneerson."

He slowly returned the receiver to its cradle, more confused than ever. ‘Could I possibly do what the Rebbe is suggesting?’ he wondered, ‘Why, she'll slam the door in my face!’ After agonizing all night, however, he decided to carry out the Rebbe's instructions to the letter. After all, the fate of a Jewish soul was at stake, and what could he lose, other than his pride?

Early the next morning, he was once again at her door. "Listen," she said as soon as she spotted him, "whom I marry is my own affair, and no one else's. I respect rabbis and men of faith, so I heard you out last time, when I should have shown you the door. But now, please go away and stop bothering me."

"There is one more thing I need to say to you," he said urgently.

"Then say it, and go."

"There is a Jew in Brooklyn who cannot sleep at night because you intend to marry a non-Jew."

"That's what you came to tell me?!" she said, incredulous, and proceeded to the close the door.

Midway she stopped. "Who is this Jew?" she asked, suddenly.

"A great Jewish leader, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, known as the Lubavitcher Rebbe," he replied. "The Rebbe is greatly concerned about the material and spiritual well-being of every Jew, and agonizes over every soul that is lost to its people."

"What does he look like? Do you have a picture of him?"

Although shocked by her unexpected question, he answered her: "I should have a picture somewhere. I'll go and get it for you."

Surprisingly, she didn't object, and nodded in assent. He rushed home and nearly turned the house upside down in search of a photograph of the Rebbe. Finally, he discovered one in a desk drawer, and hurried back to the young woman's apartment with it.

She took one look at the Rebbe's likeness and her face turned pale. "Yes, it's him," she whispered in amazement.

Noticing his astonishment, she explained: "All week long this man has been appearing in my dreams and imploring me not to abandon my people. I told myself that I was conjuring up an image of a Jewish sage and putting those words in his mouth as a reaction to what you and my parents have been saying to me. But no, it was not my imagination. I have never met this man in my life, seen a picture of him, or even heard of him. But this is he -this is the man I have been seeing in my dreams!"