Boruch
G. was a regular chassidisher Lubavitcher bochur. He went through the system,
learning diligently in Yeshiva, and internalizing the teachings and ideals of
chassidus. When he came of age, he married a girl of equal caliber, and,
predictably, they both resolved to dedicate their lives to shlichus.
Fortunately,
just over a year after their marriage, the young couple found a city that would
become their “post”. The city, in Middle America, was not especially large, nor
did it boast a sizeable Jewish population. There were no known wealthy
philanthropists residing there, nor was there much of a foundation on which to
build.
But
it had its’ Jewish community, who were in urgent need of the services that a
Chabad House could provide.
Their
work was cut out for them. They had their shlichus.
Before
long, however, they encountered an unexpected obstacle. The small Jewish
community was already being serviced by a Conservative and a Reconstructionist
Temple, as well as a Synagogue that was the remnant of what had once been an
Orthodox Synagogue. The leaders of each of these communities were very wary of
the newcomer, who they feared, perhaps justifiably, would be an unwelcome competition
to them. Their best defense, they decided, would be a concerted and timely
offence.
Subsequently,
shortly after the G. family settled into their new home, they were shocked to
see some very negative publicity about Lubavitch in the local press. While
stopping short of open warfare, the article went to great lengths to portray
Lubavitch as outdated and queer, their customs as antiquated, and the religious
services they offered as medieval. Boruch’s first visits to local community
members turned out to be an uphill battle, being met with indifference or open
hostility.
Sadly,
the G’s realized that the minds of the populace had already been poisoned
against them without their even being given a chance and their initial
enthusiasm was quickly being replaced by frustration and disillusionment. At
every opportunity, there would be negative publicity about Chabad in general
and the new shluchim in particular. Any strange or bizarre story involving
Lubavitchers managed to find its’ way to the sleepy little city’s newspapers.
To
be honest, they even considered throwing in the towel and starting anew
somewhere else – they, after all, were plainly not wanted here. But theirmashpi’im,
and any older shluchim that they consulted with, strongly negated this idea,
and deep down they knew as well that this was not the approach that the Rebbe
had taught.
So,
the G’s held an urgent staff meeting, attended by Boruch, his wife, and their
baby daughter, at which they resolved to renew and redouble their efforts, and
work tirelessly to undo the damage that had preceded them here, and create a
new image of Lubavitch that would command respect, admiration and love. Indeed,
no sooner was the meeting adjourned, and the young family went on the offensive
to secure their place in the inhospitable neighborhood.
Slowly
but surely their efforts bore fruit, and people began to see the G’s for who
they were, and to start viewing the negativity with skepticism and suspicion.
Gradually, their circle of acquaintances became a widening circle of loyal
friends, admirers, and (perhaps most importantly) staunch supporters. To be
sure, not everyone was rejoicing in the turnaround. Their original adversaries
were chagrined that their plans were thwarted, and they continued to seek every
opportunity to undermine the young couple.
But
the shluchim refused to be provoked, retaining their positivity and
friendliness to all. And this approach was clearly paying off. The distrust and
rejection that they had encountered when they had first arrived, had become
replaced with deep respect and love. They remembered their early troubles, and
thanked Hashem every day for the wondrous metamorphosis.
The
turning point came some five and one half years after they had embarked on
their shlichus. After much planning and arranging – and a large dosage of help
from Above – they managed to organize their first major public event. It was to
be a massive public menorah lighting in a high class city park, that would be
attended by the mayor, various politicians and dignitaries, and practically all
of the ‘who’s who’ of the Jewish community. Their first event on such a scale –
or even close to it -, it was expected to catapult them into new heights and
status.
The
standard legal challenges and red tape were overcome, and the Chabad house for
weeks was the scene of nervous energy and frenzied activity in anticipation of
the momentous event.
Finally
the big day arrived. With a beating heart, Boruch thought about anything that
could possibly go wrong, and davened fervently to Hashem that there should be
no last minute glitches.
But
he needn’t have worried.
As
people began to arrive, they realized that it was turning into a success beyond
anything they could have hoped for. Everyone, but everyone, of any importance
was there, and the mood was celebratory. Boruch spent a few minutes shaking
hands with the more important guests. Suddenly he had another pleasant
surprise. Not only were the press and radio stations recording the event, but
there were two television crews filming relentlessly.
The
highlights of the event would be viewed by millions of people on national TV!
Immediately
on schedule, the formal part of the program began. Mr. M, one of the most
prominent members of the Jewish community, introduced the event. Warmly
praising the Rabbi and Rebbetzin, he made subtle references to the early
accusations against them, and to how wrong they proved to be. He then
introduced the (black) Mayor, who spoke with tremendous enthusiasm about the
wonderful work of Chabad, and how crucial the Rabbi was for the community. When
Boruch went over to shake his hand and thank him, the Mayor spontaneously
reached over, and warmly embraced him.
Boruch
was overcome, while vaguely aware of the furious whirring of the cameras. It
registered at the edge of his consciousness that this was a picture that would
undoubtedly take up the front page of all of the local publications! Then the
moment was over, and it was Boruch’s turn to speak, just prior to the actual
lighting of the menorah.
He
was thinking that things couldn’t get any better, as he confidently strode over
to the microphone, while reaching into his pocket for his speech.
But
his hand was groping in vain. There was no speech to be found in his pocket.
For
a split second, his hand froze in his pocket, when, to his horror, it suddenly
dawned on him why there was no speech.
And
the least of his problems was the missing speech!
You
see, Boruch had recently purchased two brand new suits, in a sale at the local
Gap store. Dutifully, he sent them both off to be checked for shatnez (a
service not available yet in his own city). They were returned with the
verdict: one was OK, while the other was 100% shatnez. So he used the good one,
and put the other aside to be returned.
What
Boruch realized in that terrifying moment, while reaching unsuccessfully for
the elusive speech, was that, in his haste and nervousness that morning, he had
inadvertently put on the wrong suit, the non-kosher suit, the shatnez
suit!
After
being alerted to this fact by the missing speech, it took only another split
second for him to verify this fact 100% conclusively. He was, without any
doubt, wearing a suit of pure shatnez. Shatnez d’orayso!
Remember,
Boruch was standing in a large, open public area. There was nowhere to go, and
nowhere to hide. The attention of several hundred people in attendance was all
on him. The reporters and television cameras were recording his every move.
They
were watching and waiting, what is he going to do now.
What
indeed?!
He
remembered, instantly, the halacha (brochos 19B, Yoreh Deiah 303), that one who
discovers that he is wearing shatnez must remove it, even if he is in a public
place (אין עצה ואין חכמה
ואין תבונה נגד ה'). He knew that
there was no loophole to get around this. It was an issur d’orayso r”l.
On
the other hand, how could he even imagine doing such a thing (he was vaguely
conscious of the fact that, were he to take such a step, there would most
definitely be another choice for the front-page picture, - if the censors would
let it by).
Never
mind his embarrassment, never mind that he would probably go to jail, never
mind that all the work that he did all these years would go down the drain in
an instant, what he was contemplating would amount to a chilul Hashem of
unprecedented proportions! And, on national television, no less!
[And
this was not one of those places where he would score points for disrobing in
front of an audience . . ]
He
would, with that one move, confirm the worst of the accusations made against
him. And much worse that the worst accusations.
Yet,
he knew that he is first and foremost a Jew, and his first responsibility is to
the Eibishter.
But,
on the other hand, isn’t it the Eibishter who wants all of these people to have
a positive perspective of Yiddishkeit (so that they would start practicing it)?
Isn’t it for the Eibishter’s sake that he put in all the work, that he was so
keen on making a good impression? Wasn’t it the name of the Eibishter that was
at risk of being desecrated in such a terrible way? Could that be what He
wants?
On
the other hand, he knew that the Eibishter made it quite clear what He wants,
through Torah and Mitzvos. Could he consider disobeying them?
But,
then he thought, what right did he have to worry about his own frumkeit at the
expense of the religious observance of hundreds of people, at the expense of
destroying any chance of any Chabad Rabbi ever establishing himself
in this city forever!
He
reminded himself of the gemoro (Nozir 23B) “Gedolah aveirah l’shmoh”, an
aveirah for a good cause is sometimes virtuous. He further reminded himself of
the story with the melamed of the Rebbe, who, when discovered learning on Tisha
B’Av, said ‘I’ll go to gehinom anyway, let them punish me for this; - for
learning Torah’.
‘I
can say the same’, Boruch mused, ‘I’m ready to go to gehinom, to endure any
punishment imaginable, as long as I don’t have to be responsible for such a
horrible scandal!’
All
of these musings took less than a second, while Boruch stood there, at the
microphone, facing the cameras, a big smile still on his face, but more torn
than he’d ever been in his life.
What
to do?!
He
felt as if he’s aged a hundred years in that moment!
He
could just imagine the headlines, the reactions, if he chose one course of
action, and the resulting desecration of all that he held holy.
But
to deliberately, knowingly, transgress an issur d’oyraysao r”l?!
What,
indeed, does he do?
What should he do?
What
would YOU do? And why?
