Getting
On The Train
By Rabbi Levi Yitzchok Ginsberg
As
the great and holy day of Gimmel Tammuz is almost upon us, I would like to share
two stories that relate to these final moments before the Rebbe Melech
HaMoshiach’s hisgalus. You may have heard them before, but they are
definitely worthy of repetition.
The
first story I heard from two sources, the late mashpia, Reb Mendel
Futerfas, and Reb Refael ("Folye") Kahan, the author of Shmuos V’Sippurim:
As
is known, the Rebbe Rayatz’s imprisonment began on the 15th of Sivan 5627
(1927) and continued until 3 Tammuz of that year. Gimmel Tammuz was later
established (by the Chassidim, not by the Rebbe) as a day of thanksgiving and of
making good resolutions. The chronology of events was as follows:
On
Gimmel Tammuz, the Rebbe Rayatz set out for Kastroma. On Yud-Beis Tammuz, he was
officially notified that he could return home. The next day, Yud-Gimmel Tammuz,
he was actually released. The Rebbe arrived back in Petersburg (Leningrad) on
the 15th of the month and recited the HaGomel blessing.
Several
days later, however, it became clear that it was too dangerous for the Rebbe to
remain in Petersburg. The local branch of the G.P.O. in Leningrad had not yet
reconciled itself with the Rebbe’s release, the Yevsektziya was after blood,
and the newspapers were filled with articles denouncing the
"counterrevolutionary Schneersohn."
At
that point the Rebbe left for Malachovka, a small town near Moscow, to
recuperate from his ordeal. He left explicit instructions that his whereabouts
were to be kept secret. No one, with the exception of a few individuals, was to
follow him to Malachovka. Every minute the Rebbe spent in Russia meant he was
still in danger from the authorities.
In
the meantime there was much international pressure being brought on the Russian
government to allow the Rebbe to leave the country. Eventually all these efforts
bore fruit, and the Rebbe received permission to leave the Soviet Union. When he
declared that he would not leave without all his writings and books, he was
given permission to take them.
Shortly
before Sukkos it was learned that the Rebbe would be leaving right after Simchas
Torah, on Isru Chag. The Chassidim were both joyous and devastated: joyous over
the Rebbe’s release, but crushed by the thought of being
"abandoned." It was a particularly terrible time in the Soviet Union,
and the persecution against the Jews was unrelenting. The Chassidim had drawn
strength and encouragement from the Rebbe’s presence; how would they be able
to go on without him? Given the natural order of the universe, the chances of
ever seeing the Rebbe again were nil. In those days the Iron Curtain was
hermetically sealed, and there was no communication with the outside world.
The
upcoming holiday would thus be the last opportunity to be together with the
Rebbe. Accordingly, great numbers of people flocked to Leningrad for Sukkos and
Simchas Torah.
The
Rebbe Rayatz’s sichos kodesh of that Simchas Torah can be found in Seifer
HaSichos 5688. There is one sicha addressed to Anash, one to
the talmidim of the yeshiva, one for the yeshiva
administration, etc. Nonetheless, they all share a common theme. And despite the
fact that the phrase only appears once or twice in the printed version,
according to those who were actually present, the Rebbe kept repeating one
particular sentence over and over: "M’darf zich zehn, m’muz
zich zehn, un m’vet zich zehn – We need to see each other, we
must see each other, and we will see each other."
The
Chassidim were overjoyed by this explicit pronouncement. According to the
natural order it might be impossible, but the Rebbe had promised that they would
see each other again! Their hearts were set at ease and their fears were
allayed. In sheer gratitude they spilled out onto the streets of Leningrad,
singing and dancing.
However,
some of the most prominent Chassidim of that generation were present that day,
and they were not very pleased by what was happening. (Reb Mendel always refused
to identify them, and would only say "fun di gor, gor groiseh
– from the very, very biggest.") They worried what would happen if,
"to the fleshly eye," the Rebbe’s words were not immediately
fulfilled. What if all this unbridled enthusiasm lead to a terrible letdown or
spiritual crisis?
In
any event, these "big Chassidim" decided to "offer the remedy
before the affliction" and bring everyone down to earth. They gathered the
Chassidim together and told them that the Rebbe did not necessarily mean that
his words would be fulfilled in the literal sense. Perhaps the Rebbe was only
stating a wish that we be reunited, and was not actually promising. Besides,
they continued, being together with the Rebbe is a spiritual concept, and does
not necessarily imply geographical closeness. A person can be standing right
next to the Rebbe in the physical sense but in reality be as far away from him
"as east is from west." By the same token, a Chassid can be on the
other side of the world, but if he is truly mekushar, the Rebbe is with
him.
(A
classic example of this is the famous story of Reb Mendel, who once mentally
composed a pidyon nefesh to the Rebbe Rayatz during his interrogation by
the G.P.O. Years later, when he finally left the Soviet Union and arrived in
England, he found a letter from the Rebbe with the same date, delivered to his
wife’s address, in which the Rebbe told him that his "pidyon nefesh
had been received…")
(Another
famous story: In the early days of the Rebbe’s nesiyus, when overseas
travel was still a luxury, a Chassid once asked the Rebbe for a bracha
"for those who have not yet merited to come here." In answer, the
Rebbe also gave him a bracha "for those who are already here but
have not arrived [in the physical sense].")
The
arguments put forward by the "big Chassidim," who seemed to be
speaking with such authority, contained certain truths: Hiskashrus does
transcend physical location, and only depends on the person himself. But, of
course, this is not what everyone had in mind when they heard the Rebbe say,
"M’darf zich zehn, m’muz zich zehn, un m’vet zich
zehn."
What
happened next was that the elated mood among the Chassidim instantly evaporated.
Instead of full faith in the Rebbe’s promise that they would be reunited, they
were again saddened and depressed at the prospect of being left behind.
However,
there was a small group of Chassidim (Reb Refael Kahan would always thank G-d he
was one of them) who refused to listen to any such talk. If the Rebbe said we
would see each other again, we can rest assured that we’re going to see each
other again, in the literal sense. They continued dancing through the streets of
Petersburg, turning somersaults, etc.
The
end of the story is that all of the Chassidim who believed they would see the
Rebbe again b’gashmiyus eventually left the Soviet Union and saw the
Rebbe b’gashmiyus. Most of the others, however, were only reunited with
the Rebbe b’ruchniyus…
About
a year and half ago I related this story at a farbrengen in 770. Sitting
next to me was Rabbi Zalman Notik, mashpia of Yeshivas Toras Emes in
Yerushalayim, who had a similar story of his own to tell:
A
few years ago, while on mivtzaim, some boys from his yeshiva met a
group of Jews who had recently emigrated from the Soviet Union. Like many of
their unfortunate brethren they were almost completely ignorant of Yiddishkeit,
through no fault of their own.
The
bachurim were helping the men put on t’fillin when all of a
sudden an old Russian-born Jew approached them, all excited. "You’re from
Lubavitch?" he asked them. "Do I have a story to tell you!
"When
I was a child back in Russia," he began, "I used to attend the
Lubavitchers’ secret farbrengens. I also used to daven with them
and went to their shiurim.
"At
one farbrengen I will always remember, the Chassidim were drinking mashkeh
as if it were going out of style. The main topic of discussion that day was the
desire to be reunited with the Rebbe. We sang ‘Der Eibershter vet geben
gezunt un leben, velen mir derzehn zich mit unzer Rebbin!’ (‘G-d
should give us good health and life, and we will be reunited with our Rebbe.’)
‘Oy Rebbe, Rebbe, Rebbe…’ Our intense yearning to be with the Rebbe
was almost palpable, and was growing from minute to minute.
"In
the middle of the farbrengen, a few of the Chassidim suddenly stood up
and decided to ‘take action.’ Grabbing some chairs, they turned them
upside-down and arranged them in a row to make a ‘train.’ Just picture it
– grown men behaving like kindergarten children, sitting on overturned chairs
and making believe they were going to the Rebbe!
"Most
of the others, myself included, just stood around watching. We laughed at them
and told them they were nuts. What ridiculous, childish nonsense!
"But
what happened next really make you wonder," the old man concluded.
"Within a very short time, all of the Chassidim who rode the ‘train’
received permission to leave the Soviet Union, and actually did go to the Rebbe,
whereas the rest of us, the ‘normal’ ones, were left behind. And as you can
plainly see, most of us did not have the strength to keep Torah and mitzvos
behind the Iron Curtain, and are only now beginning to catch up..."
*
* *
"Der
Rebbe iz a guter – the Rebbe is good," the Rebbe declared in the
famous sicha of Shabbos Parshas Eikev 5713. This means that
the Rebbe relates to each and every individual in a reciprocal manner:
If
a person thinks of the Rebbe as "above the seven celestial firmaments, and
even higher," the Rebbe will interact with him as if he, too, is
"above the seven celestial firmaments" – that is, very far away. At
the same time, if a person wants to be close to the Rebbe down here in the
physical world, the Rebbe will actually be with him on that level.
On
many occasions the Rebbe emphasized the important distinction found in the words
"kasheh alai p’ridas’chem – your leaving is difficult for
Me." The "leaving," as it were, is only initiated by you; from
the Rebbe’s perspective, no estrangement exists. The Rebbe is close to all
Jews, individually and as a whole. The Rebbe "stands over each and every
one and searches his heart, to see if he serves him properly." Every
positive action causes the Rebbe nachas ruach and adds to his physical
well-being. Every opposite deed, G-d forbid, causes the opposite.
The
Rebbe offers his holy hand to all who are willing to take it, affording us his
blessing every step of the way. The Rebbe knows the contents of our hearts, and
guides us wherever we go and in all circumstances. The Rebbe
"understands" when we don’t behave exactly as we’re supposed to,
and even then he does not abandon us. On the contrary, he helps us overcome our
difficulties and improve our conduct.
As
David HaMelech says in T’hillim (139:8), "If I ascend up to
Heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, behold, you are there."
It makes no difference whether our spiritual level is high ("Heaven")
or low ("Sheol"); the Rebbe is always with us and accessible.
The
only thing necessary is that we relate to the Rebbe in the proper manner. We
have to relate to the Rebbe as a vibrant, living king who is chai v’kayam
in the present tense, on the physical plane, and not as someone who only existed
in the past, G-d forbid. For as explained many times, the main function of the
Rebbe Melech HaMoshiach shlita, the "seventh generation," the s’fira
of Malchus (and especially during this one hundredth year – Malchus
she’b’Malchus), is to complete the process of drawing G-dliness down
into the very lowest levels of existence.
Our
relationship with the Rebbe must be sincere and genuine, and not just "as
if" we’re "riding on the train." (Of course, even doing
something "as if" has a profound effect on the universe. As the Rebbe
explained many times, physical reality changes according to the will of the Jew,
the "baal ha’bayis" over the world.) However, this must be
accompanied by the recognition that such is the true reality.
These
principles are not up for discussion or debate. As the saying goes, the simpler
and more profound something is, the better it is because the truer it is.
The
way we relate to the Rebbe is reciprocal. When we relate to the Rebbe as the
"Rebbe shlita" – without resorting to explanations or
justifications but as simple, literal and immutable fact – the Rebbe responds
in kind. For this reason, it cannot be emphasized enough how crucial it is to
refer to the Rebbe as "the Rebbe shlita" both in writing and in
speech. In my opinion, this is just as important (and maybe even more so) than
referring to the Rebbe as Melech HaMoshiach, for it also serves to
accustom the world to gradually accept this as the true reality.
However,
the relationship works in the other direction, too. When the Rebbe wants
something from us and we don‘t live up to his expectations and make all kinds
of excuses ("it will push Jews away"; "it will denigrate
Lubavitch in the eyes of the world," etc.), we see that it causes certain
concealments on the Rebbe’s part.
For
example: By the summer of 5751 the Rebbe had already responded positively and
enthusiastically several times concerning the psak din of the Rabbanim
confirming him as Melech HaMoshiach, the singing of "Yechi,"
petitions for "kabalas ha’malchus," etc. Yet when some people
started "explaining" that all this focus on Moshiach and Geula
would alienate other Jews, it led to a slight "cooling off" period
during which the Rebbe didn’t talk about it quite so openly.
*
* *
The
bottom line: The main way to forge the "vessel" for the Rebbe’s hisgalus
is to state the facts as they exist, and proudly tell the world that there is no
alternative. May we merit that this lead to the ultimate fulfillment of G-d’s
plan for the Jewish people and the entire world, immediately and at once.
"Yechi
Adoneinu Moreinu V’Rabbeinu Melech HaMoshiach L’olam Va’ed!"
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