[vc_row][vc_column][vc_tta_accordion active_section=”-1″ collapsible_all=”true”][vc_tta_section title=”The Rebbe’s Messenger” tab_id=”1624966232619-d34fa254-bfdc”][vc_column_text]Yehudah Hajaj did not consider himself part of the Chabad community in the town of Mazkeret Batya in Israel. But his warm feelings for Judaism and respect for tradition were reason enough for Rabbi Aryeh Greenberg, the local Chabad emissary, to visit his home and extend a personal invitation to an upcoming Chabad event.
This was about 20 years ago. Yehudah gratefully accepted the invitation and attended the event. One speech that especially touched his heart was given by Rabbi Hertzel Boruchov of Rechovot, who described to the attendees how he had become close to Judaism in merit of the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita. He spoke about a current project of his, running the “Igrot Kodesh Center,” which allowed people to write to the King Moshiach Shlita and receive a response by randomly opening one of the 40 volumes of Igrot Kodesh, Moshiach’s published letters.
Yehudah was very impressed by the talk, and at the end, Yehudah approached the microphone and asked if he could say a few words. It was clear that he was undergoing a deeply emotional experience.
“I am not religious,” Yehudah introduced himself simply, “but I wish to share with you my personal miracle story with Moshiach.
“This happened in 1992, several weeks after Moshiach had suffered a stroke,” Yehudah recalled. “At the time I was working as a truck driver, and I used to wake up very early in the morning. A few days before Pesach I had a dream. I felt like I had woken up and could not fall back asleep. I sat on my bed, took out a cigarette and began to smoke. All in my dream. But it was extremely vivid, and I can remember the slightest details.
“Suddenly, Moshiach appeared before my eyes. I knew Moshiach only through various articles in newspapers and from the work of Moshiach’s representatives. I had never met him in person. I remember that in my dream, I pinched myself to make sure that I was not dreaming…
Moshiach did not give me much time to remain lost in thought. He turned to me directly and asked, ‘Do all the people around you have what they need for the upcoming holiday?’
“I was confused. After several long seconds, I answered that I had never looked into it.
“‘Please check,’ Moshiach instructed me. ‘Make sure there is no one around you left without their needs for the holiday.’ He said this and then vanished.
“I woke up bathed in sweat. The vision had been so real and I felt certain that the dream was meaningful. I wracked my brains and remembered that there was someone who lived nearby whose financial situation was not very stable at the time. By nature he was very shy and introverted and found it difficult to share his troubles with others. Still, we were well aware of his difficult circumstances.
“I waited until a reasonable hour, drew my courage and went to his house. I knew that I had to overcome my own discomfort and offer him help. This was the directive I had received from above… Hesitantly I knocked on the door, and my friend’s wife opened. Her eyes were red and puffy.
“In response to my question she told me that her husband was not home. Somehow I blurted out the purpose of my visit: ‘Do you have everything you need for the holidays, or maybe I can help you?’
“The woman’s response was completely unexpected. She burst into uncontrollable tears. My discomfort grew seven-fold. This was not a pleasant situation to be in. ‘What are you talking about?’ she finally managed to choke out between sobs. ‘Needs for the holiday? Yesterday the police came to arrest my husband because of his unpaid debts. I am left alone…’
“I had 500 shekel in my pocket which I had just withdrawn from the bank the day before to buy our own holiday needs. I handed them to her.
“’This is not from me,’ I mumbled. ‘Someone sent me to give this to you.’ I figured that she would be more comfortable taking from an anonymous donor than from me. In any case, it was not a falsehood. I had indeed been sent… The woman thanked me profusely, and asked me to give her thanks to the anonymous donor as well.
“I returned home all shaken up. My dream had not been meaningless after all. Moshiach knew very well why he had come to me and said what he said.
“The next day, on the eve of Pesach, my friend was released from jail. I met him after I returned home from work. He waited for me to get down from my truck, and asked me to walk home with him. He wanted to show me the table in his house, set with all the holiday delicacies. ‘This is all thanks to you,’ he said with tears in his eyes.
“It was one of the happiest days of my life,” confided Yehudah to the crowd. “The most wonderful feeling I had ever felt flooded my heart. An inner voice whispered to me that I had to let the couple know who had really sent me to help them. I told them about my dream, which caused their home to be filled with holiday joy.”[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”The Secret Weapon” tab_id=”1624966232628-da408ac8-677e”][vc_column_text]It was the holiday of Sukkot, 1973. During the Yom Kippur war, a few teachers from the Taanach area in Israel decided they wanted to take a break from the atmosphere of war in the north and celebrate Simchat Torah with their parents in Jerusalem. The group consisted of three couples, the men – members of the local Kollel – their wives – teachers in the Chabad school in Taanach – and two babies, about half a year old. The group hired an Arab taxi driver to take them to Jerusalem.
Achmad, the driver, arrived and picked up the couples and their belongings. The most precious item each of them had was their set of Four Species, on which they would make a blessing each day of Sukkot. The route to Jerusalem followed the Jenin highway, through Shechem (Nablus) and continued via Rammalah and El-Bira to eastern Jerusalem. In those years, it was perfectly safe for Jews to drive through the West Bank.
The road to Jerusalem consists of many twists and turns. The driver knew the road like the back of his hand, and usually made quick time to Jerusalem. Suddenly, on one of the turns between Jenin and Sh’chem, on a very narrow road with an abyss on the right side, the driver began to slow down. There was a huge traffic jam and the driver got out to see what was going on.
The driver came back and reported that the jam had begun a week earlier, on the second day of the war, the day after Yom Kippur. An Israeli tank was being rushed to the Golan Heights, where it was needed for reinforcement on the Syrian border. The tank had slipped and fallen in to a ditch. Soldiers had tried to lift it out but were unsuccessful. The soldiers put in tremendous effort to get it out and every day a more sophisticated machine was brought, but nothing helped. The tank remained stuck at a dangerous angle.
Many drivers turned around, deciding to give up on their travel plans. Achmad suggested the same thing, because the tank had been stuck for a few days already and no progress had been made. There was no point in just sitting there.
The couples hadn’t prepared anything for the holiday of Shmini Atzeres, and they wanted to celebrate Simchat Torah with their parents. They had no choice but to wait for a miracle that would extricate the tank and enable them to travel onwards.
Another hour went by and Achmad came back with another report. The heaviest equipment had been brought in, but the results were the same. Nothing. They simply could not raise the tank. The passengers got out to stretch their legs. Despite the chaos around them, the scene was pastoral with a magnificent view of the Shomron. Hundreds of Arabs stood in groups and discussed the war against the Yahud. And in the midst of it all were three Chassidic couples, with the men wearing their Chassidic garb which did nothing to conceal their Jewishness and their affiliation with Chabad.
The Chassidim decided to follow Achmad and see what was going on. They walked to where the tank had fallen and saw the soldiers trying to do the impossible, remove the tank that had fallen deep into the abyss on a dangerous angle. The tank could easily turn over and crush those standing near it.
The Chassidim went back to the taxi, took their set of Four Species and went back to where the soldiers were. There were many more soldiers than they had seen at first. Many of them had been there from before Sukkot and had not yet recited the blessing on the Four Species even once.
The soldiers caught sight of the Lubavitchers with their Four Species and were very moved by the sight.
“How did you come just now?” they wondered.
“The Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita sent us to you,” they said.
“How did the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita know to send you here, to this forsaken place where we’ve been for days?” The Four Species were passed from hand to hand as the soldiers took their turn to recite the blessing. When the last of the soldiers finished with the Four Species, they all made one last effort to extricate the tank. Did I say another effort? A final effort? It entailed no effort because the tank slipped out of the place where it was stuck for a week, as though someone had smeared grease underneath it.
Without further ado, the tank was raised up. When the soldiers ascertained that the tank was in good condition they put it on the trailer and it was immediately sent to the Golan front.
The jubilant Chassidim returned to the taxi. Even Achmad was satisfied. They got to Jerusalem on time with a wonderful story of the mitzvah of the Four Species, the Jewish people’s secret weapon![/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”A Time to Bless” tab_id=”1624972362054-6695a372-c2ec”][vc_column_text]Eliyahu Turgeman arrived home and called out to his wife, “Did you hear? The court ruled in the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita’s favor!”
The court case in question took place some 35 years ago, when a relative of the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita began to stealthily remove priceless volumes from the Chabad Chassidic Library. When the theft was discovered, the relative claimed that the books were rightfully his, as a descendant of the previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Joseph I. Schneerson.
The matter was taken to court, and after a protracted battle the judge ruled decisively in favor of the Chabad Lubavitch movement. In the judge’s ruling, she made clear that the previous Rebbe had purchased the books not as a private individual but on behalf of the movement. As such, they were not inherited by his descendants but remained as the property of the Chabad Chassidim.
Three days after the favorable ruling was issued, in January 1987, the King Moshiach Shlita announced that it was an opportune moment in heaven, when G-d would grant people their requests and prayers. Moshiach said that if possible, people could send letters to him, or just place them at the gravesite of any righteous person.
The Turgeman family, who lived in Netanya, took Moshiach’s suggestion greatly to heart, as did many other Jews. The whole family, even the youngest children, sat down and composed letters expressing their deepest needs and desires.
At the end of that day a stack of letters had piled up on their dining room table – both the family’s own letters as well as letters of neighbors and friends who asked to join them.
Late that night, after all the visitors had left, Eliyahu and his wife sat down to write their own letter. For many years they lived in a small 3-room apartment in a public housing unit in Netanya. At first the apartment had been suitable for their needs, but as the family grew it had become increasingly cramped. Now their family numbered nine souls, and it was essential for them to move to larger quarters.
The Turgeman family had repeatedly turned to the Israeli Ministry of Housing and Construction, asking for help to find a more suitable dwelling, but their requests were denied for one reason or another. This time they decided to send their request to the chief “housing official” of them all – the Almighty Himself. They requested a blessing to be able to move to a new, spacious apartment, suitable for their growing family.
Several weeks later, the phone rang in their modest home. Eliyahu lifted the receiver and spoke to a woman who introduced herself as Sarah. “I am an official in the Housing Ministry in Jerusalem. I am now reviewing your case, and have decided to approve your application to move to a larger apartment.”
Eliyahu pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He had not sent in an application to the Housing Ministry in a while, since he had faced so many disappointments in his dealings with them. This call seemed less realistic to him than winning a lottery.
“I don’t believe this,” he mumbled into the receiver. “Are you really serious?
“Please understand,” Eliyahu explained, “I have applied so many times for a bigger apartment and was denied. I’m just finding it hard to digest that suddenly you are calling to tell me that my request was approved.”
To ensure that it was all for real, Eliyahu asked the official for her full name as well as the address and phone number of her office. “When can I come to your office to pick up the approval?” he asked.
“That’s not how it works,” answered Sarah. “First you find a suitable apartment, which is vacant and meets your family’s needs, and let me know. I will send an appraiser to look over the apartment, and based on his estimate we will approve the funding to help pay your rent.”
For endless days, Eliyahu and his wife combed the town of Netanya, looking for a suitable apartment. After exhaustive searching, they finally found a vacant apartment that would suit their needs. They called the number that Sarah gave him, the appraiser was sent and the rental was concluded to everyone’s satisfaction.
Several days later Eliyahu called Sarah to thank her for all her help. Instead of Sarah, another woman answered. “Sarah was promoted to a higher position and doesn’t work here anymore. Who is calling?”
Eliyahu asked the new official to please pass on his deepest thanks to Sarah for everything she had done for them. “With pleasure,” she responded. “I am familiar with your case. It was the last one Sarah worked on before she was promoted.”
Later, Eliyahu met a friend, who had been responsible for gathering everyone’s letters and bringing them to the gravesite of a righteous person. He told the friend of his request for a bigger apartment, and of the angel, Sarah, who had stepped in and helped them so much.
“Very interesting,” said the friend, “your family’s letters were brought to Hebron, to the gravesite of our foremother, Sarah.”[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”Just in Time” tab_id=”1624972398639-1cb46a7b-f735″][vc_column_text]Twelve years after their aliyah from Ukraine to Israel, Roman and Irena Greenberg decided that it was time for them to make a return visit. In preparation for their trip, they arranged visas for all their family members. Roman took a leave of absence from work, and everything seemed to be all set. The Greenberg family, as well as their relatives in Kiev, where they planned to stay during their visit, were all very excited.
In the airport on the day of their flight, they were greeted by friendly security personnel who examined everyone’s passports and visas. The Greenbergs waited patiently to receive their boarding passes and board the plane. Suddenly the security agent turned to Roman and said, “Are you aware that the visas for your children don’t go into effect until tomorrow?”
Roman did not understand what she meant. When he bought the tickets he made sure that all the dates matched up. He asked the agent to hand him back the passports. After a quick glance, he said, “Everything is in order! We are not scheduled to land in Kiev until 9 p.m., and by the time we leave the airport it will already be past 12 midnight – which is when our visas go into effect.”
However, the agent explained to him that it was impossible for him to board the plane with a wrongly-dated visa. “Ukrainian law forbids us to allow passengers to board a plane if they do not have visas effective from the moment of boarding.”
“What can I do now?” asked Roman desperately. It had taken so much effort to plan this trip to every last detail. Now, in one moment, all their plans were in jeopardy.
“Simple: just push off your flight for one day,” suggested the agent.
“But I bought these tickets at a special discount rate! There is no way to exchange them!” Roman protested.
“I’m sorry,” the agent replied in an indifferent tone. “There is nothing I can do for you.”
Roman felt his world was collapsing all around him. His children were so excited for this trip, as were his relatives in Kiev. Would his carelessness in dating the children’s visas cause all those plans to go to naught?
Irena, his wife, was much less agitated. She had begun to study Chassidic teachings and had developed a strong faith which strengthened her during many of life’s challenges. “Roman, let us pray. You’ll see that everything will work out.”
Roman’s disheveled look perfectly matched his inner turmoil. He did not understand how Irena could stay so calm and serene. Irena picked up her cell phone and dialed her personal Rabbi, Rabbi Yaakov Reinitz from Lod. She told him the details and asked him to open a volume of Igrot Kodesh, the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita’s collected published letters, to seek the King Moshiach Shlita’s blessing.
While Irena was on the phone with Rabbi Reinitz, Roman returned to the counter to gather up their belongings. He had already made peace with the fact that they were returning home. Near the counter, he noticed a tall man dressed in a jacket and tie. Next to him was a woman, probably his wife, and one other person. It seemed they were preparing to board the flight that the Greenbergs were about to miss.
Suddenly the man was approached by one of the security agents, who began to speak to him. Roman noticed them glance his way, and it became clear that their tardy visas was the topic of discussion. Without knowing who he was, Roman decided that he would approach the man himself and plead his case. “Please, do me a favor. We’re only talking about a 2-3 hour difference. Think about how disappointed the children will be if we cancel this trip.”
The man looked at Roman and his family thoughtfully and then whispered something to the man at his side. It turned out that this man was none other than the Ukrainian ambassador to Israel. He instructed his assistant to return immediately to the consulate, have the staff prepare the correct visas and bring them back to the airport with the necessary signatures. “Hurry!” he said. “The flight leaves in less than two hours!”
Roman blinked in shock and pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. While they awaited the return of the consul, Rabbi Reinitz got back on the line with Irena and said, “Moshiach blessed you that everything would turn around. I am certain you will board the plane.” Quoting the Igrot Kodesh, he said, “Even if matters don’t appear to be good in a revealed way, the days of this month have the power to transform them to days of joy and holidays, revealed to the eyes of flesh.”
The Greenberg family boarded the plane and enjoyed their long-awaited vacation, just as planned. The singular change that came about as a result of this trip was Roman’s religious awakening. “There is no doubt in my mind that the extraordinary encounter in the airport with the ambassador, who was able to arrange the visas just in the nick of time, was nothing short of a miracle.”[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][/vc_tta_accordion][/vc_column][/vc_row]