I Will Personally Come And Save You
In honor of Yud-Alef Nissan, we are proud to present a collection of the Rebbe’s miracle stories. About Moshiach it says, "with the rule of his mouth and the breath of his lips" – every word he utters is fulfilled. The stories were told in various times and places by a wide variety of people.


Nissan 5728 (1968). Yekusiel sat with his friends in Tomchei T’mimim Kfar Chabad, feeling despondent. The way it worked was that at the conclusion of three years of study, the T’mimim went to bask in the glory of the Nasi HaDor, the father of the T’mimim, the Rebbe MH"M. Over the years, this had been approved by the appropriate military authorities as the young men are of draft age.

This year though, the military said they would not allow the T’mimim to leave. Throughout the winter months various askanim were in touch with senior military officials in order to convince them of the importance of the matter, but thus far, nothing had changed. It seems as though this time they would not allow the talmidim to travel.

So Yekusiel sat and worried, terribly upset about the situation, with his yearning to go and see the Rebbe intensifying by the minute. In his heart of hearts, Yekusiel believed that their efforts would be crowned with success, and that he would indeed be in 770 before Pesach. "If the Rebbe wants it, it will happen," he thought confidently. When his family asked him whether the approval had come through, he answered that he was sure the Rebbe’s ratzon would be realized.

As he spoke with his family, the phone rang and his friend informed him that all efforts had failed and the final message which was conveyed to the askanei Chabad was they would not be getting the approval needed to leave the country.

An urgent message was sent to the Rebbe, to inform him of the latest developments. The askanim awaited further instructions, which came shortly. The Rebbe indicated they should stop all contact with the military and talk directly with the office of the minister of defense.

The askanei Chabad did so, and the final decision was left up to the minister. At the end of the week he announced that the talmidim could go.

Throughout this period of time, the talmidim did not know what was going on behind the scenes. Some of them had already made peace with the fact that they would have to remain in Kfar Chabad, though others fully believed that a miracle would take place at the last minute. Yekusiel was one of the latter. He could not imagine that the Rebbe’s ratzon would be thwarted.

When the good news arrived, Yekusiel rejoiced, but he wasn’t surprised. "I had no doubt," he told his parents, "that the Rebbe would work things out for us."


Ben Gurion Airport. Planes were landing and taking off, and Yekusiel stood there all excited, looking at the huge plane that would take him, in a few hours, to Beis Chayeinu.

Upon arriving at Kennedy Airport, Yekusiel was sure that at that late hour the Rebbe was home and busy with bedikas chametz. How amazed he was when the Rebbe himself walked out of 770 to greet them! They discovered later that the Rebbe had waited especially for them.

The Rebbe summed up the story to the chassid, R’ Shmuel Levitin thus, "It was maaseh nissim."


October 1973. Nine reservists were in the desert at one of the fortifications near the Suez Canal. They were fully prepared and morale was high.

"Itzik, I’m going over to the kitchen. The flies are driving me crazy!"

I left Itzik and went over to rest in the shade. The flies were just impossible!

A quarter of an hour went by and suddenly there was a cry. Itzik screamed in hysteria that the Egyptians had begun shelling, and then went silent.

The flies had saved my life!

Yom Kippur 5734 (1973). Nobody dreamed that war would break out on this holy day. Itzik was the first korban in our position. The reality of the situation stunned us, but we quickly gathered our wits about us. Despair on our part would only help the enemy.

Tziyon, the commander, organized us into a defensive position and in the minutes between one plane attack and the next, we left the bunker and arranged sandbags. We tried to contact headquarters, but there was no reply. There seemed to be serious problems. We were nine soldiers, actually eight, and our position wasn’t particularly strategic.

Over the radio equipment we heard conversations between officers and soldiers in the field. At first they sounded harried, but measured and to the point. Towards evening though, they sounded choppy and demoralized. Soldiers cried over the airwaves. We realized that the situation wasn’t good at all, and we awaited developments with heavy hearts.

We gathered in the central bunker and received orders from Tziyon. We wrapped Itzik’s body in a blanket and left it outside the opening of the bunker. "Even if we are taken captive," said Tziyon, "we will not abandon Itzik’s body."

Although I wasn’t from a religious family, I fasted, but the fear made me forget my hunger. I dragged ammunition to the edge of the northern trench. In the event of an attack, I was supposed to run over there and fire the machine gun to the north and west. I put half the ammunition there and then returned to the bunker.

Night fell, a fateful night which will remain engraved in my heart forever. We heard that the Egyptians had broken through all of our forces and had penetrated into Sinai. The situation was bleak.

Thoughts raced about in my head: home, Mother, Father, family. What were they doing now? Were they thinking about me? Were they worried about me? Would they ever see me again? Or maybe they would see me, but I wouldn’t see them...

In the afternoon the sounds of explosions came closer and closer. We realized the Egyptians were heading towards us.

We hunkered down in our bunker, but this didn’t stop us from jumping at the sound of the explosions. Tensions ran high when suddenly the scout saw a group of Egyptian armored vehicles, at a distance of a kilometer and a half, coming towards us. We knew it was going to be them or us...

Tziyon gave out final instructions, and we scattered to our posts. He asked us not to open fire until he gave us detailed lines of fire. When we could identify the number of helmets poking out of the turrets, Tziyon came over to me. "You take the three on the right, and shoot at them non-stop. Don’t stop until you’re told. They cannot know we are only nine men."

Another few minutes went by and the barrel began spitting fire. I pressed on the trigger and didn’t let go. I got the three Egyptians right away, including their officer.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Alon, the other machine gunner, was also doing nicely. I continued shooting towards another armored halftrack. I believed we would succeed in stopping them, for we had managed to disable four halftracks.

The Egyptians positioned themselves on sand dunes 200 meters away from us. The desert hills provided good cover for them, and their hits were becoming more and more precise.

"Shmulik!" A heartrending cry could be heard from the south, for Shmulik had been hit. The beloved kibbutznik from the "Goshrim" had fallen.

Morale started to dip. Even Tziyon the acting commander was hit. We were only six. A third of us was gone. "G-d will do something!" I wordlessly cried.

We fought like lions through a long and tiring night until we were only four soldiers left. We decided to give up. It was five in the morning, and before we went out to give ourselves up, I arranged the bodies in a row and attached a note on each of them to identify them.

I knew that the future wasn’t pretty. I couldn’t even cry. I had no tears.

Nadav, Tziyon’s assistant, went out first with raised hands. The others followed him. I stayed behind with the machinegun trained, in the event that the Egyptians wouldn’t honor the surrender. I had only another two minutes of freedom before I would be taken captive.

Suddenly, two people materialized before me. I pinched myself to see if I was hallucinating, but I wasn’t. These were two real people, their shining faces were bearded. They looked at me and then approached me.

Opposite me were the Egyptians. My machinegun was primed, and there were these two men.

What was going on?

One came over to me and said, "Don’t worry. You’ll be taken captive, but you’ll be released alive and well. Tell your friends."

I had never heard such a calming voice before. More than anything else, I was riveted on his eyes. He had a penetrating, burning gaze which conveyed incredible blessings.

"Who are you?" I stammered. "And how do you know we’ll return?"

The man gazed upon me and said, "If I have to, I will personally come and save you."

"And how will you do that?"

The old man did not reply. He took another step forward, put his hand on my head, and closed his eyes.

All this didn’t take more than a minute, but it seemed like eternity. Suddenly the two men were at a distance and then they disappeared on the horizon. I was stunned by what had happened. Even when the Egyptians handcuffed me and stuck their rifles in my back, I couldn’t forget his gaze.

Seven months went by. Seven months of hell. Torture, interrogations, and degradation were our daily fare. Whenever I lay down on the torn mattress and thought of home, I also thought of the old man. I remembered his gaze. I tried to think of whether I had ever seen him before. Perhaps it was my grandfather who came down from Gan Eden… But no. He didn’t remotely resemble my grandfather.

I finally convinced myself that I had hallucinated.


Now we were on the plane, freed. Egyptian trucks took us to Refidim and from there we flew to Ben Gurion Airport, where everybody was waiting for us. For the first time since Yom Kippur, there were tears in my eyes. Why now? I don’t know.

We arrived at the terminal, where there were many prisoners and many bodies. It was extremely noisy. Porters rushed about and people were caught up in their emotions. In the midst of the hustle and bustle, somebody in the corner caught my eye. Three religious Jews stood there and gave out drinks and cookies to whoever wanted them. "L’Chaim!" they called out happily, and they suggested that men put on t’fillin.

I felt I needed to go over to them, and I suddenly caught sight of the Rebbe’s picture on the table. Underneath the picture it said: Rabbi Schneerson, HaRebbe mi’Lubavitch.

I stood there in amazement. I had seen him! Yes! It was the same penetrating gaze, the same piercing yet gentle eyes. The eyes looked at me and seemed to say: I promised you’d return.


Rabbi Yaakov Michaelashvili of Lud relates:

It was 5727 (1967), and the communists ruled with an iron hand over millions of citizens. The persecution of Jews intensified and it became even more difficult to leave the country. All requests for emigration were refused, and there was absolutely no chance that we would be able to leave Georgia.

On Simchas Torah of that year, the old chassid, Rabbi Shmuel Levitin, a"h, cried to the Rebbe and asked for his bracha that all the rabbanim of Georgia be able to participate in the farbrengen that year.

Indeed, that year, the Georgian rabbis were allowed to leave, and arrived in Crown Heights in Elul. At the Rosh HaShana 5728 farbrengen, we – the new immigrants – sat facing the Rebbe and joined in the singing when suddenly the Rebbe turned to R’ Levitin and with a broad smile he said, "Nu, R’ Shmuel, have the Georgians arrived?"


Professor Branover relates:

I grew up in Riga, where I slowly got involved in Yiddishkeit and chassidus. Before presenting a request to leave Russia, I decided to contact the Lubavitcher Rebbe and ask for his bracha. A friend warned me that a conversation like that was likely to earn me years under lock and key in Siberian labor camps. But I stubbornly insisted on calling the Rebbe, feeling an inexplicable inner urgency.

I went to the post office and dialed the Rebbe’s office directly. After identifying myself, I asked to speak to the Rebbe, when suddenly I heard the Rebbe’s voice on the line (in Yiddish) saying, "Very soon, it will all work out."

I was ecstatic, for I had spoken to the Rebbe himself! So I went to the emigration office and after presenting my request I was told, in no uncertain terms, that due to my vast scientific knowledge I wouldn’t be able to leave the Soviet Union for at least 4-10 years!

I didn’t despair. I went home, with stubborn faith.

The miracle happened a lot sooner than I thought it would. Shortly thereafter, I heard knocks at my door. Somebody from the emigration office invited me to come to their offices, where they informed me that my request to emigrate had been approved!

I know this was only in the merit of the Rebbe’s bracha.


The man gazed upon me and said, "If I have to, I will personally come and save you."




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