[vc_row][vc_column][vc_tta_accordion active_section=”-1″ collapsible_all=”true”][vc_tta_section title=”He’ll Be Back” tab_id=”1624966232619-d34fa254-bfdc”][vc_column_text]It was during the early years of the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita’s leadership. Rabbi Yoel Kahn, known for his prodigious memory and his reviews of the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita’s talks, would give a weekly class in Chassidus in a yeshiva in Brooklyn. The yeshiva was not a Chassidic one, but there was a group of students who were very eager to learn these teachings and they organized a class.
Once one of the most brilliant students of the yeshiva approached Rabbi Kahn and asked him if he could arrange a meeting with the King Moshiach Shlita. He was not a participant in the class, but he had a personal problem that he wished to discuss with Moshiach.
Rabbi Kahn arranged the meeting, and at the appointed time the yeshiva student entered Moshiach’s room. He spent about an hour with Moshiach, and when he came out he appeared shaken and refused to tell Rabbi Kahn what he had discussed with Moshiach. All he said was, “I will never step foot in here again!”
Rabbi Kahn could not believe the young man’s reaction. “Did Moshiach say things that made no sense to you?” he asked.
“No,” he said. “What Moshiach told me was quite logical. But I will never be back!”
Fifteen years passed. One day Rabbi Kahn was walking down the street and suddenly heard someone calling his name. Rabbi Kahn turned and tried to place the person but could not recognize him. “You don’t remember me? Fifteen years ago you arranged a meeting for me with Moshiach…”
Rabbi Kahn was shocked. It was difficult to see in the man before him any trace of the former yeshiva student. He looked completely different…
The two stood on the sidewalk of a busy street while the man brought Rabbi Kahn up to date on the events in his life. At that meeting, Moshiach had told him that due to his personality, he should study Chassidut several hours a day. Moshiach explained to him that these teachings would help him internalize the concept that Torah study is only for the purpose of fulfilling G-d’s will, not to become a famous and important person.
Moshiach explained with an analogy: A child who hasn’t seen his father in a long time and suddenly sees his father coming will run towards him screaming “Daddy!” and hug him tightly. This should be our approach to studying Torah. Through this we are “hugging” our Father in heaven.
Without Chassidus, we don’t study Torah with the proper attitude, and in a moment of weakness, we are liable to lose our spiritual stature and to fall to the lowest depths, to the point that we cease to be an observant Jew.
“The words of Moshiach penetrated my soul,” the man admitted, “but I wasn’t prepared to set aside a few hours a day to study Chassidus. I felt that it would hinder me from achieving my goals in Talmud study, and I couldn’t give that up. My friends might surpass me! That’s why I decided so strongly that I would never go back to Moshiach. I wanted to push away any obligation to carry out Moshiach’s advice.
“Several months later, I offered an original interpretation for a complicated topic in Gemara. I was used to being showered with praise and admiration from my friends for my brilliant insights, but this time they reacted coldly, and one friend even mocked my explanation.
“As time went on, this experience repeated itself and I realized that my friends were no longer impressed by my intellect. I lost all desire to study, I left yeshiva and slowly left the path of Jewish life. I married a Jewish woman but we observed no Judaism in our home. We had children and never even taught them that they were Jewish.
At a certain point I began to regret the path my life had taken. I decided to return to the path of Torah, I could not find the strength within myself to carry it out. I remembered Moshiach’s words at our meeting and decided to follow them, if somewhat belatedly. I found some books of Chassidus and tried to study on my own. However, the concepts were strange to me and I could not understand them on my own.
“One day I saw an advertisement in the newspaper of a Chassidic gathering with Moshiach on the occasion of the 19th of Kislev, known as the New Year for Chassidus, and I decided to attend.
“I entered just as Moshiach was saying the following words: ‘G-d arranges events so that every Jew will eventually return to Him–particularly a Jew who had studied Torah in the past, even with incorrect intentions. G-d will arrange that he will be inspired and return to G-d.
“I was stunned that Moshiach said these words just as I walked in. That got me. However, I still wasn’t sure if Moshiach was referring to me specifically. How could he notice me among thousands of people? How could he remember me after so many years had passed?
“Several months later, after the holiday of Pesach, I was present when Moshiach was giving out Kos Shel Bracha [wine for blessing]. When my turn came, Moshiach looked straight at me and asked, ‘How are you?’ That’s when I knew Moshiach indeed remembered me.”
During that meeting on the street, Rabbi Kahn agreed to meet regularly with the man to study Chassidus. With time he strengthened his Judaism and returned completely to the path of Torah, this time with a firm inner commitment.[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”Father, Forgive Me” tab_id=”1624972909846-a032848d-c7d7″][vc_column_text]Rabbi Yossel Tevel, who died 10 years ago at the age of 54, was known as a giant in human kindness. One of his pet projects was to visit prisons in the New York area, bringing cheer and solace to Jewish prisoners.
In the 1970s, when Rabbi Yossel first began this work, there was one prison in New York state that he just could not get into. The Jewish chaplain of the prison, Rabbi Metzger, seemed to have a grudge against him and put obstacle after obstacle in his path. Rabbi Metzger belonged to the Reform movement and fought Chabad’s work tooth and nail. He told Rabbi Yossel directly, “I won’t let you into my prison.”
Rabbi Yossel did not despair but asked time and again for permission to visit Jewish prisoners. After extensive efforts, the rabbi softened up a bit and before Pesach he agreed to give matzos out to the inmates on condition that Rabbi Yossel not come to the prison but send the matzos with UPS. Instead, Rabbi Yossel himself knocked on the rabbi’s door. When the rabbi asked who was at the door, he answered, “UPS.”
The rabbi opened the door and was shocked to see Rabbi Yossel standing there. At first he was angry but Rabbi Yossel said with a smile, “I wanted to show you that the bogeyman isn’t so scary after all.” Rabbi Yossel engaged Rabbi Metzger in a conversation and his hostility dissipated.
A few weeks later, Rabbi Yossel called Rabbi Metzger to ask whether he could come and cheer up the prisoners on the holiday of Lag B’Omer. To his surprise, the rabbi agreed, for the first time, to have Lubavitchers visit the prison, as long as not too many of them would come. Rabbi Yossel was in seventh heaven that he was finally able to break the barrier.
On Lag B’Omer, Rabbi Yossel went with a group of Rabbinical students to the prison. With a big tape recorder and lots of joy, they got the inmates involved in the dancing. Rabbi Metzger stood off to the side and watched.
Rabbi Yossel went over to him and said, “I would like to suggest that you put on tefillin.”
“Your chutzpah has no limit!” the stunned rabbi retorted.
Rabbi Yossel noticed that this was said with a hint of a smile and decided the time was ripe. He pushed up the rabbi’s sleeve and began putting the tefillin on him.
The rabbi was taken aback and said: “You want to teach me how to put on tefillin but I know better than you!” He took the tefillin from him and wound the straps like a veteran. He said Shma Yisroel and suddenly began to cry uncontrollably. Twenty minutes went by before he finished saying Shma.
When he took off the tefillin, he looked upwards and cried: “Tatte, zayt mir moichel (Father, forgive me).”
He asked Rabbi Yossel to sit down and told him his story:
His grandfather, the dearest thing to him in life, had been a respected rabbi in Germany. When the Nazis came to power, he watched as they degraded his grandfather in the most humiliating and brutal fashion. The cursed Nazis laughed as the rabbi with the long white beard was mocked in the streets. At that time, he swore vengeance against G-d.
After the war he immigrated to the United States, where he joined the Reform movement, became a rabbi, and did all he could for spite. He officiated at intermarriages, arranged parties on Yom Kippur, etc. all to take revenge on G-d.
“When I heard that Chabad Chassidim wanted to visit the prison, I began to tremble with an inner fear. I knew that where Chabad is going to come, anything opposing G-dliness will simply melt. Therefore I had no choice but to fight you. But your charm and persistence managed to win me over,” he concluded. “I decided to return to G-d and I beg of Him to forgive me.”
Two weeks later, Rabbi Yossel got a phone call.
“Rabbi Tewel, this is Rabbi Metzger’s son. I am sorry to inform you that my father passed away. I’d like to tell you that during his final two weeks he spoke about nothing but you and the tefillin you put on him. We realize that you were very important to him and we would like you to attend his funeral and to say a few words.”
Rabbi Yossel went to the funeral with some rabbinical students, and in front of all the friends of the rabbi, he told how Rabbi Metzger’s Jewish spark had finally awoken after years of dormancy.[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”A Soldier in Hashem’s Army” tab_id=”1624972935157-cf491d64-b73a”][vc_column_text]Daniel Rober’s path to Torah Judaism was tortuous but fascinating. During his childhood in Nebraska, Daniel was raised with a unique blend of Judaism and American patriotism.
Daniel turned 18 at the height of the Vietnam war and was drafted into the U.S. army. He was sent to a language school in El Paso, Texas, where he studied Vietnamese for nine months, to train for assignment as a code breaker.
Towards the end of his stay in Texas, he came across an article in a local newspaper about two young rabbinical students who had recently arrived in town. Daniel had always been curious to know more about his Judaism. At the first opportunity, he made his way to their address.
His meeting with the two students, Levi Bukiet and Yossi Gutnick, was the first time that Daniel had seen Jews of that type. They told him that they had come to Texas as emissaries of the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita to teach Judaism to the local residents. He discovered that these two students were among thousands like them, studying and observing the ancient laws of Judaism.
The Jewish spark in Daniel’s heart was ignited. Later, during a two week furlough that he received before being deployed to Vietnam, Daniel accepted an invitation from his Chassidic friends to visit Crown Heights, the neighborhood of the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita. Daniel was deeply impressed by the King Moshiach Shlita’s personality as well as the intense Jewish life in the community. He felt fortunate to be part of the Jewish people and began to fulfill practical mitzvot.
After his vacation ended, Daniel and his unit were deployed to the far east. During their training as code breakers, Daniel and his colleagues had been exposed to much sensitive information and there was fear that they might be captured. Therefore they were not sent to Vietnam but to Taiwan, where they would be safer. From there they intercepted enemy radio communication, particularly from the warplanes that flew overhead.
There were very few Jews in Taiwan, and hardly any who were Torah observant. Daniel did not have anyone with whom to share his religious experiences. Nevertheless, he did not compromise on his beliefs. On the contrary, he strengthened his observance of Mitzvos.
One day he heard on base that a religious Jew, Rabbi Mendel Shemtov, had arrived in Taiwan on a business trip. Daniel arranged to meet him at the first opportunity. It was an emotional meeting on both sides, although they had never met before. Rabbi Shemtov was amazed that there was a religious Jewish soldier in Taiwan. As a gift, Rabbi Shemtov gave Daniel an electric pot so he would be able to prepare his own kosher meals. On another visit Rabbi Shemtov brought a large supply of frozen kosher chicken and meat for Daniel.
Naturally, the army kitchen was completely traif. To Daniel’s good fortune, though, the kitchen manager was an elderly Chinese gentleman who had lived in Shanghai during the Second World War, in a neighborhood populated by a large group of Jewish refugees. Due to this exposure he understood Daniel’s needs quite well and was able to supply him with separate dishes and ingredients as needed.
Daniel kept the meat from Rabbi Shemtov in a small freezer in his room. He would cook a piece for Shabbat or Yom Tov, for a festive meal.
One night Daniel woke up to the sound of banging on the door of his room. Drugs had been found on base and a room-to-room search had been ordered. A soldier with a search dog entered his room and Daniel began to quake inside. He had no drugs in his possession, but bringing outside food onto the base and cooking in the room were both absolutely forbidden. Daniel had no doubt that the dog would discover the meat and then he would be court-martialed. The dog approached the closet where Daniel kept his freezer, and his heart skipped a beat. To his relief, the dog walked right past it, as if he smelled nothing at all.
After nine months of service, Daniel was called in for a chat with the commander of the division. He asked Daniel to explain the strings that he wore hanging from the sides of his garment (Tzitzis), the kippah on his head, and his insistence on not working on Shabbas. It seemed that the commander had never before been exposed to religious Jews.
In a few brief sentences Daniel explained to the commander what it meant to be a Jew. In the end, the commander offered Daniel an opportunity to complete his service and be released early from the army. Daniel jumped at the opportunity. Since the time he had discovered authentic Judaism, he had lost his taste for army life, which prevented him from living his life as he wished.
A release date of September 16 was scheduled for him. Daniel checked the calendar and found out that the date fell on Rosh Hashanah. He went back to his commander and explained that he would not be able to participate in the release procedures on that day. The commander was dumbfounded at the request, but in the end he agreed to move Daniel’s release date up 12 days.
After his release from the army, it was a short path for Daniel to fully embrace the lifestyle of a Chabad Chossid. Within a year he became a student in the Hadar Hatorah yeshivah in Brooklyn, and then joined the Ohr Temimim yeshivah in Kfar Chabad. Daniel married and started a family in Israel. Today his name can be found in many Jewish homes and synagogues, inscribed on the artful leather covers that he produces for classic Jewish works and prayer books.[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”Gathered One By One” tab_id=”1624972975402-010d5bac-516e”][vc_column_text]About 20 years ago, a Chabad yeshivah student, Aharon Lipskar, and a friend were driving in Florida on a mission for the Aleph Institute, which helps Jewish people in prison. As they drove through a rural area near Jacksonville, they were running low on gas and needed to find a place to fill up.
They found a gas station, and the owner, a big and burly guy, filled up their tank and then asked them to wait a minute. The two Chassidim were a bit nervous but they agreed to wait. He returned shortly and asked them to accompany him to a back room. “I don’t know why we agreed,” says Aharon Lipskar, but the two went along with him and saw an old man sitting there who asked them in Yiddish, “Where are you from?”
“We’re Chassidim of the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita,” they answered, and the man burst into tears. It took some time for him to recover and to tell them his story.
His story began before the Holocaust, when he was a newlywed young man from a Chassidic home. Just as he began his new life, his entire family, including parents, brothers, sisters and wife, were murdered by the Nazis. Out of his family, which had numbered 100 people, he was the sole survivor. He was completely broken and slowly dropped Judaism. He arrived in the U.S. and lived in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, but could not fathom how people could live normal lives. In particular, he could not understand how religious Jews could continue keeping Torah and mitzvos after the war.
He decided to get as far away from Judaism as he could go. He vowed to erase any trace of Judaism from his life. The memories were too painful, and he harbored too much anger and resentment towards G-d for allowing the slaughter to happen. He was also terrified of once again being rounded up and persecuted as a Jew. The only way to stay safe was to assiduously avoid any contact with Jews or Jewishness.
He moved to Florida to a city which had a large Jewish population and a Reform synagogue. However, that wasn’t far enough from Judaism for him. He moved to a town with nothing Jewish in it at all, married a gentile woman, and had three gentile sons, one of whom had filled their tank. Years passed, and one night when he couldn’t sleep he turned on the TV and began flipping channels. Suddenly, he saw on the screen an impressive-looking Jew with a white beard and a black hat speaking in Yiddish, a language that he understood well…
There was a caption at the bottom of the screen that read: Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, the Lubavitcher Rebbe (The King Moshiach Shlita), Lubavitch World HQ, Brooklyn, New York. He was still glued to the screen when the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita said the following words: “The Prophet Isaiah says: ‘And you shall be gathered one by one, O children of Israel.’ The Rebbe asked: What does this come to teach us? Clearly, when the Redemption comes, all Jews will be united! What message does the prophet want to convey?
“Sometimes, there is a Jew with a special G-dly soul, a Jew who stood with all Israel at the Giving of the Torah on Mt. Sinai, and he thinks to himself that he’s ‘running away,’ cut off, no connection whatsoever to the Chosen People from which he came. He feels emotionally and intellectually detached from the Jewish People. Comes the prophet and says that even such a Jew subconsciously feels a deep longing and a connection to the source of his Jewish essence, and regarding him the prophet is speaking when he says: ‘G-d Himself in all His Glory will literally hold each one by the hand in his place’ – no matter where he is…
The next day, he called in his wife and children and told them: “There’s something you should know – I’m a Jew.” His sons were shocked. Until that day he had never disclosed his past to any of them. He told them that this is not their problem, just his. “I’m the only Jew around here, as they are all non-Jews, and when the time comes to take me, they’ll be coming for me, not for them…’
At first, they didn’t know what he was talking about since they had never seen a Jew before. “Now,” he concluded, “when you came here, my son came to me and said, ‘Dad, they came to take you.’ And when you came in and I asked you where you were from and you said Lubavitch, I couldn’t help but cry.”
They sat together and sang Belzer niggunim which the man remembered from his childhood, and they returned and put tefillin on with him. They kept up a connection with him via letters, etc., until he passed away. Apparently this was a soul that had already been gathered by Moshiach.[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”The Shwarma Brought Results” tab_id=”1624973015981-03fd273a-0f25″][vc_column_text]A new customer entered David Dery’s kosher middle eastern restaurant. His appearance was nothing out of the ordinary: he was dressed somewhat carelessly, with ripped jeans and a mound of curly hair. He seated himself at a table and perused the menu.
David approached him and said, “Shalom. My name is David. What can we serve you today?”
“Pleasure to meet you. My name is James. I’d like to order the shwarma.”
David did a double take. Shwarma was a popular dish among his Israeli customers, but he had never met an Israeli named James. “Have you tasted shwarma before?” he couldn’t resist asking.
“What do you mean? I’ve been eating shwarma all my life! I’m Israeli!”
“And… your name is James?” asked David.
James laughed. “My real name is Chaim. When I came to America I decided to change it to something more common.”
David was a loyal Chabad Chossid, and he used the opportunity to share with James some words of Torah from the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita. James turned out to be an eager student who enjoyed the depth and wisdom in the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita’s teachings.
James became a regular customer and always ordered the shwarma, which David served up with a smile and some words of Torah. After David had come to know James well, he suggested setting him up with a Torah study partner over the phone. “A yeshiva student will call you for a weekly study session.”
“Why not?” James smiled and handed David his business card. That’s when David realized that James was the CEO of a large financial company in New York City. David handed James’ contact information to a yeshiva student he knew, and the matter slipped from his memory.
After a few months David realized that he had not seen James in a while. He didn’t know if James had decided to frequent a different restaurant, or if he always came during a time David wasn’t there. David asked the yeshiva student if he had ever made a connection with James. He was happy to hear that they had indeed begun to study together, and James had even bought himself a pair of tefillin and had started keeping Shabbos, partially at least.
A long while passed, and one day, when David was standing behind the register in his restaurant, a religious young man approached him and shook his hand warmly. “Do you remember me?” he asked. David strained his memory. “I am James!”
Now David remembered. His glance went from James’ face to the kippah on his head. James laughed. “Yes, yes, I decided to start wearing a kippah. It’s all because of you,” he said in a mock complaining tone.
“This is how it all went down,” James began his tale. “I started to study over the phone with Shneur, the yeshiva student you set me up with. During one of our sessions, we learned a talk of the King Moshiach Shlita in which he said that even those with minimal Jewish knowledge have an obligation to teach those who know less than them. It was hard for me to digest this idea. I asked Shneur if Moshiach was referring to someone like me, who didn’t even keep Torah and Mitzvos. Was I fit to teach another Jew Torah?
“Shneur understood my unspoken plea and convinced me that Moshiach’s words indeed applied to me. During that telephone conversation, I decided that I would invite my Jewish clients and employees to a party every Shabbos and share the Torah thoughts I learned with Shneur.
“I hosted the parties in a huge loft I rented in a luxury apartment building in Manhattan. The lavish parties turned out to be a big hit. The centerpiece of each event was the Dvar Torah, when I would share one of Moshiach’s insights. From week to week the crowd grew, and I had no choice but to make a rotation among all the guests.
Soon it dawned on me that it was inappropriate for me to host these parties and teach Torah while violating Shabbos. So I decided to start keeping Shabbos fully.
“Keeping Shabbos brought other mitzvot in its wake, until I decided to change my life completely and become religious. In the meantime I met a nice Jewish girl, we married and settled in Canada.”
David was very moved. “See the power of good shwarma,” he said with a wink, patting James on the back.
“Wait, my story isn’t over yet,” James continued. “A few weeks ago I was in Manhattan for a business trip. While I was walking down the street, a Jew wearing a kippah jumped out at me. ‘Hey, Rabbi James!’
“Rabbi is what he called me, no less! I had no idea who he was. He grabbed my hand, squeezed it and said, ‘You should know that you changed my life!’
“It turns out that the man, whom I did not recognize, had taken part in those groups that I hosted in my home. The words of Torah that he heard penetrated his heart, until, like me, he decided to return to his roots and embrace a life of Torah and mitzvot. Somehow, without me even realizing it, Moshiach had turned me into his emissary to bring another Jew back home.”[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”No Lost Opportunity” tab_id=”1624973048624-f1f77a38-ae8b”][vc_column_text]It was 9:30 one night in 1943, during the lifetime of the Previous Rebbe. The daily study program in the main Chabad headquarters at 770 Eastern Parkway had just concluded, and Rabbi Hershel Fogelman and several of his fellow students were standing in the hallway, discussing the subject which they had been reviewing. Suddenly, an agitated-looking young man, without a kippah, burst through the main door.
“Where’s the Rabbi?” he called out. “I must speak to the Rabbi!”
Rabbi Fogelman went over to the young man and calmed him, while one of the other students went and brought a kippah.
The stranger’s name was Herbert Goldstein. His brothers had just called him from Boston informing him that one of their relatives was very ill, and asked him to go to the Lubavitcher Rebbe at once to seek a blessing.
Rabbi Fogelman requested him to wait while he asked the Rebbe’s secretary, Rabbi Eliyahu Simpson, if it was possible for the Rebbe to receive the young man.
Rabbi Simpson said he would ask the Rebbe shortly.
By this time, the young man had collected himself and opened up to Rabbi Fogelman. He lived at the Hotel Mayflower in New York, organizing commercial receptions. He and his brothers had seen the Rebbe three years ago. At that time, he had been an alcoholic. The Previous Rebbe had taken his hand in his own and spoken to him reassuringly, encouraging him to control himself and refrain from drinking.
And it had worked! From that moment onward, Herbert had been able to bridle his desire to drink. Every night, he said, he would kiss the hand which the Previous Rebbe had held.
Rabbi Simpson came back and told Herbert he would be able to see the Rebbe shortly.
When Herbert emerged from the Rebbe’s room, he was brimming with excitement: The Rebbe had remembered him! He told him exactly where he had stood during their meeting three years earlier, and where Herbert’s brothers had stood. He had also given him a blessing for the recovery of his relative and spoken to him about the importance of putting on tefillin every day.
Rabbi Fogelman and Herbert parted warmly. Shortly afterward, the Ramash—that’s the way the Chassidim would refer to Moshiach during the lifetime of the Previous Rebbe—and Rabbi Simpson came over to Rabbi Fogelman and asked about Herbert’s story.
There was no hesitation on the part of the Ramash. He did not want Herbert’s inspiration to remain in the clouds, but rather to be connected to actual deeds. He told Rabbi Fogelman to take a pair of tefillin from Rabbi Simpson, go to the Hotel Mayflower the next morning, and put on tefillin with Herbert. Rabbi Fogelman was then to give Herbert the tefillin, though it would be preferable if Herbert paid for them himself.
Rabbi Fogelman did as he was told, and Herbert was happy to see him. “It was smart of the Rebbe to send you while I’m still enthused,” he smiled, as he willingly donned the tefillin.
When Rabbi Fogelman came back to 770, he informed Rabbi Simpson of the episode. He was told to go back and pay Herbert another visit the following morning.
Herbert was glad to see Rabbi Fogelman again: “You’ll never believe what happened this morning,” he told him. “When I woke up, I remembered that as a child my parents had told me to say Modeh Ani upon arising, and so that’s what I did!” He put on the tefillin a second time and paid for them, promising to put them on every day.
Rabbi Fogelman was sent to see Herbert a third time, and the young man reiterated his promise to observe the mitzvah.
“Today,” Rabbi Fogelman explained, “it’s hard to appreciate how big a step it was in those days for a non-observant American to begin putting on tefillin daily. When Moshiach saw that such a thing was possible, he refused to let the opportunity pass.”
(Reprinted from To Know and to Care, published by Sichos in English) [/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”Full Glasses” tab_id=”1624973080052-a2684f68-c5d5″][vc_column_text]Dror Cohen was a relative newcomer to Chassidic life, but that didn’t hold him back from starting a Chassidus class of his own. At the time this story took place, over 30 years ago, Dror lived in the Katamon neighborhood of Jerusalem. There was a Chabad synagogue in the neighborhood, founded by Chassidim who had been driven out of the Old City during Israel’s War of Independence. He chose that synagogue as the location of his class.
The topic of Dror’s class was Tanya, the fundamental work of Chabad Chassidism, written by the Alter Rebbe, Rabbi Schneur Zalmen of Liadi, founder of Chabad. Of all the different streams of Judaism that Dror had explored, Chabad spoke to him the most. He felt that he had to impart some of that inspiration to others.
The synagogue that Dror was using wasn’t very active, as there were not many Chabad Chassidim who lived in the neighborhood. He felt a responsibility to infuse some life into the neglected walls of the synagogue.
Dror hung up signs announcing the class and spread the news via word-of-mouth. However, when he came to the synagogue for the first class, nobody showed up. But Dror was not the type to be easily discouraged. He said to himself, this week I will study alone, and by next week surely more people will come…
But the next week the same story repeated itself, and the week after that. It seemed that nobody was interested in the class that Dror was offering.
In those years, the Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita would often give a talk (sichah) at night after the evening prayers. These talks were broadcast all over the world via telephone hook-up, and, naturally, in Israel as well. Due to the time difference between Israel and New York, it was often in the wee hours of the morning that chassidim in Israel would gather in their synagogues to hear the King Moshiach Shlita’s live address.
Dror also made a point never to miss any of these talks, despite the fact that he had to get up early the next morning to go to work, and despite the fact that Moshiach spoke in Yiddish, a language he did not understand. His fellow chassidim who did know Yiddish filled him in with the meaning of Moshiach’s words.
During one of these live broadcasts, Dror was especially tired. He simply could not keep his eyes open any longer. This was the first time Dror had ever dozed off during a talk of Moshiach.
As he slept, Dror dreamt that he was in Moshiach’s synagogue in New York. Moshiach approached the Aron Kodesh, the ark, and removed three glasses. Suddenly one glass disappeared and only two remained – both filled with some kind of sparkling, bubbly liquid. At that point, Dror woke up.
The dream was very vivid, and Dror was determined to find out its meaning. He approached a learned Chossid who offered an explanation, but it did not satisfy Dror.
Meanwhile, Dror went back to offering his weekly lectures, despite the fact that nobody took advantage of them. One week, though, a young man studying in a non-Chabad yeshivah entered the synagogue and told Dror that he was interested in learning Tanya. Dror happily informed him that he gave a regular class. The young man began to study with Dror every week.
The following week, Dror spent Shabbat in Kfar Chabad, at the home of the rabbi who had first introduced him to Chabad. On Shabbat afternoon, he went to the central synagogue in Kfar Chabad, and met two young men from Jerusalem who were looking for an introductory class in Tanya. Naturally, Dror invited them to join his class.
The next week, Dror’s weekly Tanya class had four participants: Dror, the first young man, and the two additional students who joined. The tenor of the class shifted as the young men brought up various questions about the Chassidic way of life. Soon it became a class focused on Moshiach’s unique interpretations of Tanya and his guidance and direction for daily life.
After a while, the first young man dropped out of the class. Only two young men remained. But these two young men went on to study in Chabad yeshivos and became full members of the Chabad community. Finally, Dror understood his dream – there were three glasses originally, and now two remained, sparkling and bubbly.[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”Those Mesmerizing Eyes” tab_id=”1624973114828-122a3bfc-2f9d”][vc_column_text]It was in the United States in the 1960s, at the height of the hippie movement. Young people, mostly idealistic and intelligent, rebelled against all institutionalized social conventions and tried to express themselves creatively.
Yeruham was one of the many who joined the rebellion. Yeruham was raised without a trace of religion, and the lack of content and meaning in his life made him kick the routine and go out in search of himself. Yeruham joined a caravan that roamed across the length and breadth of the United States, with no defined direction and purpose.
At some point the group decided to form a commune outdoors in the wilderness. The members of the group invented for themselves various strange religious rites and rituals, most of which were drawn from Christian sources. They did not identify themselves as Christians, but Christianity was the style closest to what they practiced.
The structured lifestyle attracted Yeruham and he abandoned the wandering life to join the commune. By that time Yeruham had met his wife, and she followed him into the bosom of nature. The couple blended well into the cult’s life and took an active part in all of its religious rites.
Among the rules of the sect was a rule that after a predetermined period of residence in the community and participation in all rites, the member undergoes a conversion ritual and is finally admitted to the sect. Yeruham and his wife had completed their initiation and a date was set for the conversion ceremony.
At this point, Yeruham began to hesitate. Although he enjoyed his membership in the group and felt immense self-fulfillment, for some reason he was somewhat deterred by the conversion ceremony. No, it was not the fact that he was Jewish that bothered him. He only vaguely knew about the Jewish religion. Simply put, the ceremony itself seemed scary and a little strange to him. He decided to take some time out for himself during the time remaining until the conversion ceremony. Maybe his feelings would change.
The appointed day arrived. On the day of the ceremony, Yeruham was appointed to set a fire on the altar, along with other tasks related to their worship.
This was not the first time he had been chosen to set fire to the altar. Never before had he ever encountered any difficulties in lighting the fire. But on that day, all his attempts to light a fire came to naught. Running out of options, Yeruham obtained from somewhere a large pile of newspapers, which he hoped to ignite to set fire to the altar.
The newspapers began to burn one after another. Yeruham’s eyes were drawn to one of the newspaper clippings, from which he saw two eyes staring at him. The picture looked to be of a rabbi with a gray beard, with a sublime face. The penetrating look of the man in the picture pierced him to his core.
Yeruham was mesmerized by this man, without understanding why. He had never seen the man in the picture. He continued to hold the newspaper without moving, feeling the man’s eyes on him, as if they were begging him to back away from the terrible step he was about to take.
Yeruham continued to stand frozen to the ground for what seemed like an eternity. At that moment a decision crystallized in his mind. This is it, Yeruham said to himself. I’m out. He could not explain to himself how he had decided that the man in the picture was shouting at him to retreat, but he was completely sure he had received the message.
In one step, Yeruham withdrew from the altar. He distanced himself a little from the cult members, who looked at him in amazement. Deep in the thicket of the forest, Yeruham regained his composure. He sat down and looked at the newspaper he was still holding in his hands. It was a local newspaper of the nearby town of Amherst. The picture was of the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita, and appeared in an ad published by the local Chabad House.
Yeruham had never heard of Chabad before, but he made contact with the local Chabad Rabbi, Yisrael Deren. The rabbi opened a window into Jewish life for Yeruham and his wife, which they had known nothing about before.
The couple’s way home was not easy, but they knew they were on the right path. Today they are completely observant Jews, proud members of the Chabad community.[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”Just One Letter” tab_id=”1624973150405-50a6f74a-0f88″][vc_column_text]Rabbi Shalom Ber Shapiro was a successful elementary school teacher in the Yeshivah of Brooklyn. His classroom was always the most in-demand; he loved his students and they as well as their parents returned his affection.
In 1981, one of the parents, who ran an import and export business out of Taiwan, decided to repay Rabbi Shapiro for the excellent education he had provided his child. He offered Rabbi Shapiro a sales position in Texas, in a city close to the Mexican border. All he would have to do was travel to Texas every two months, sell the goods to local business contacts, and rake in profits relatively easily.
Rabbi Shapiro thought the proposal sounded reasonable. He discussed the matter with his wife and then wrote to the Lubavitcher Rebbe King Moshiach Shlita to request his blessing. After receiving the King Moshiach Shlita’s go-ahead he accepted the position.
Rabbi Shapiro turned out to be as successful in business as in teaching. Once every two months he made his way to the south Texas towns of El Paso, McAllen and Brownsville, sell his merchandise, and then return home with a tidy profit.
Rabbi Shapiro is the son-in-law of Dr. Nissan Mindel of blessed memory, one of Moshiach’s secretaries. In the course of his work Dr. Mindel would frequently enter Moshiach’s office, and Moshiach would ask him about his family. In this manner, Rabbi Shapiro received a number of blessings from Moshiach for this new venture.
On one of these occasions, when Dr. Mindel was in Moshiach’s office, he mentioned that his son-in-law would soon be making another trip to Texas. Moshiach took out three dollars from his desk drawer and told Dr. Mindel to give them to his son-in-law, with blessings for a safe trip. Moshiach also asked Dr. Mindel to convey to his son-in-law an instruction of Moshiach. In every city that he would visit, he should find at least one Jewish child and sign him up for a letter in the Children’s Sefer Torah.
At the time, Moshiach had recently introduced a campaign to get every Jewish child to buy a letter in a Torah scroll written especially for them. This campaign is ongoing to this day. In exchange for a token sum of money, the child receives a certificate indicating in which Torah portion their letter can be found.
Rabbi Shapiro was honored to be given this mission of Moshiach. In El Paso he succeeded in signing up a number of Jewish children for the Sefer Torah, as well as in Brownsville. However, in McAllen he could not find a single Jewish child. None of his business acquaintances knew of anyone in town who was Jewish. He tried his luck with the local telephone directory, looking for Jewish-sounding names. He identified three names that could possibly be Jewish. The first person he called, Rubinstein, said that while he was indeed Jewish, his wife was not, so their children were not Jewish.
After Rubinstein, Rabbi Shapiro made another few calls, but none of those people turned out to have Jewish children, or even to be Jewish themselves.
As a Chossid of Moshiach, Rabbi Shapiro knew that if Moshiach had instructed him to find Jewish children in each city, there must be at least one Jewish child there. Therefore he did not give up. Finally, after hours of inquiries he found out that there was a watch store in some distant part of the city that was owned by two Jewish brothers-in-law. He did not have the phone number of the store. Instead, he drove directly to the address he had been given.
When he entered the store, one of the owners immediately approached him with excitement. The rabbinic appearance of Rabbi Shapiro reminded him of his childhood in Brooklyn, when he used to attend synagogue hand-in-hand with his grandfather. He had been swept up in the waves of Americanism in his teenage years and had distanced himself from Judaism.
His conversation with Rabbi Shapiro struck a chord in his soul. Naturally, he signed up each of his children for a letter in the Sefer Torah as Moshiach had instructed. This was the beginning of a long and fruitful relationship between him and Rabbi Shapiro.
The next time Rabbi Shapiro was in town, he brought with him several Jewish books. The next time he bought for him a tallit and tefillin, as the storeowner had requested. His Jewish awakening was so great that by the next visit of Rabbi Shapiro, the store owner had managed to organize a weekly minyan in his house for Shabbat prayers.
Rabbi Shapiro wrote a full report of his encounter to Moshiach, and received a response: “Many thanks on the good news.”
Today that Jew is a Chossid of Moshiach in the fullest sense, and has moved to Crown Heights, Brooklyn, where he can better practice Judaism. Two of his children, in turn, themselves serve as Moshiach’s emissaries in the far reaches of the world.[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][/vc_tta_accordion][/vc_column][/vc_row]