Higher Connections

The role of chaplain was definitely one of the easier jobs Rabbi Itche Meir Lipsycz had faced. The Federal Penitentiary in Montgomery, Alabama was run by an easygoing warden who readily permitted all projects the rabbi planned for his congregants. Alas, not all good things in this world last forever, and after a media exposé on the leniencies of the prison, the warden and chaplain were replaced.

Things seemed to be looking down. Rabbi Lipsycz was warned by several people that the prospective warden was a rabid anti-Semite. But Rabbi Lipsycz shrugged off the warnings with a remark about trusting in G-d.

A week before Rosh HaShana the replacement was made, and Rabbi Lipsycz drove to Montgomery to be introduced to the new warden and chaplain. Without blinking an eye, he informed them of his plans for the entire holiday season, knowing full well that it was too early for them to attack. His assumption was proven to be correct, and Rosh HaShana, Yom Kippur, and Sukkos went by without a glitch. A few weeks before Chanuka, however, the problems started.

The rabbi entered the office and sat in the chair. "Every year we take the prisoners to my offices in Birmingham," he started.

"Yes, I know," the warden interrupted, "but I regret to inform you that this year will be slightly different. This year you must be accompanied by armed guards."

"That is no problem!" Rabbi Lipsycz exclaimed congenially. "All that means is an extra van."

The warden looked disturbed. Rabbi Lipsycz got up to leave. "As usual, it is my pleasure dealing with you."

He hoped that line didn’t sound too fake. The warden grunted, and slammed the door behind him.

The day before the projected party, the telephone rang. Rabbi Lipsycz interrupted his work and reached across the cluttered desk towards the phone. "Is this the Chabad House?" asked a female voice.

"Yes, may I help you?"

"My name is Lucy Von Hague. I saw your advertisement in the yellow pages, and I was wondering what you are."

"We are a religious Jewish organization helping Jews of all affiliations celebrate their religion."

"Really? I’m Jewish myself. What programs do you run?"

"We have adult classes, holiday programs, aid for poor and prisoners... In fact, tomorrow we have a Chanuka party for Jewish prisoners here in Birmingham at 5:00 p.m."

"Would it be okay if I come with a friend?"

"Of course! We are looking forward to meeting you in person."

The day progressed rather quickly. In the Chabad House, nighttime is just as active as during the day, and when the warden called at 11:00 p.m., he was surprised to hear Rabbi Lipsycz on the other end, wide awake.

"Rabbi, there will be no Chanuka party tomorrow. We have decided against it – for security reasons. I’m sure you’ll understand."

"Absolutely not! Why is this year any different?"

"We have decided on increased measures based on certain problems which I may not discuss at the moment. The subject is closed. Good night." Rabbi Lipsycz was left with the receiver buzzing in his ear.

"What chutzpa!" he muttered. He leaned back in the easy chair, totally frustrated, when a thought struck him. "That woman! I have to call her now. If she’s a businesswoman, I won’t be able to reach her tomorrow and she’ll come here for nothing!" Immediately, he called the number she had left him.

Apologizing for the lateness of the call, he explained the situation. She swiftly interrupted. "Rabbi, do you think this was an act of anti-Semitism?"

Surprised by the urgent tone of her voice, he faltered. "...Actually, I have good reason to think so... But I can’t really point to it exactly."

"In that case, leave it to me. I’ll take care of it. I shall see you tomorrow then?"

"Wha - uh, yes... Good night!"

Strange, he mused. What does she have up her sleeve?

At 7:30 the following morning, the phone rang once again. "Hello, Rabbi Lipsycz. My name is Dr. Riggs from Washington, and I am the head chaplain of the federal prison system. I hear you are having a problem?"

"Yes, in fact I am!" Briefly, he outlined the points to Dr. Riggs, who listened intently. "May we make a conference call with the warden?"

"Of course. I will be pleased to deal with the problem right away," replied Dr. Riggs.

Rabbi Lipsycz put down the phone and glanced at his watch. "I have to run to the office for a moment. I might as well do that now." After informing his wife, he walked briskly out of the house. Minutes later, the phone rang. "Hello, this is Dr. Riggs for Rabbi Lipsycz...

"What do you mean he left the house? We agreed to have a conference call!"

Leah Lipsycz grasped the situation immediately. "Well, he assumed you would call back with a time to meet, not right away! If you’d like, I can call him to come back right now."

"No, that’s not necessary. Just ask him to be home at 11:00 a.m."

Leah hung up, then picked up the phone to call her husband, unaware that Dr. Riggs and the warden were still connected. As she put the phone to her ear, she heard their voices once again. Afraid to breathe or hang up the phone, she heard their conversation clearly.

Dr. Riggs: "Listen, I don’t understand the situation very well, but I must warn you; do not mess around with this rabbi! He has friends in the Oval Office!"

The warden gave a low gasp. "I-I didn’t know..."

Dr. Riggs: "Just be careful, and we’ll take care of this party. Goodbye!"

Leah’s jaw dropped. Questions assaulted her brain like an avalanche. Dutifully, she informed her husband of the news. He chuckled quietly and told her of the previous night’s conversation.

At precisely 11:00 a.m., Dr. Riggs called back. The warden apologized profusely, adding that in the future there would be no such limitations placed on the rabbi’s services without prior notice of a few weeks.

The rest of the year passed quietly. The warden allowed Rabbi Lipsycz to do whatever he liked... until there was a change in presidency. The scheming warden thought that the rabbi’s proteksia had finally disappeared with the Carter administration. He called the rabbi into his office for a meeting. The assistant warden was present, as well.

"Rabbi, you will not be allowed to take your family inside the prison for Rosh HaShana services this year."

"Why not?"

"We are afraid the prisoners may revolt and take your wife and children hostage."

"In that case I will come alone."

"But... this is your holiday! How could you not spend it with your family?!"

"My job is more important. I have the rest of my life to spend holidays with my family, but these prisoners do not."

The warden was thrown off guard. "Ahem... We... uh, we will not let you bring in the holiday food this year either. We will distribute the usual airline meals."

Rabbi Lipsycz exploded. "What?! There are foods we must eat, symbolic foods that are not offered by the airlines, such as apples and honey, pomegranates, tzimmes, chicken soup...!"

The warden replied with undisguised hatred, "Fine! Bring them in. But nothing extra!"

Satisfied, the rabbi walked out.

Rosh HaShana was on Labor Day weekend that year, and due to various delays, Rabbi Lipsycz found himself at the guardhouse just a half-hour before the onset of the holiday. The guard met him apologetically. "Uh, rabbi? The food has to stay outside. I have express orders from the warden not to let it in."

"Where is he?!" Lipsycz demanded, pounding his fist.

"He’s gone for the day. The assistant warden is in charge now, and he’s at the other side of the camp."

"Call him immediately! And pass me the phone, please." The guard saluted and dashed from the room. Rabbi Lipsycz took out his private address book and called Mrs. Von Hague. To his dismay, her husband informed him that she was in California. Rabbi Lipsycz quickly explained the problem, adding that the holiday was to take place in 25 minutes, and, therefore, everything must be dealt with urgently.

"Rabbi, don’t worry, we’ll take care of everything. Stay near the phone, and I’ll call you back ASAP."

Somewhat relieved, Rabbi Lipsycz glanced out the window to see the assistant warden walking leisurely towards the office. Greeting him at the door, the rabbi began his attack. "Is this what you call a compromise? I am holding you responsible for the damage you are causing!"

"But Rabbi, the warden..."

"The warden is not here right now to take the blame; you are! And you will pay for this if I don’t have immediate cooperation!"

The assistant was taken aback by his fiery demeanor. Thinking quickly, he backed off. "I’ll let you in tonight. But tomorrow, you’ll have to deal with him!"

Rabbi Lipsycz smiled. "Tomorrow I shall definitely deal with him! Let’s get to work."

Momentarily, the phone rang. "Rabbi, this is John Von Hague. Everything has been dealt with successfully. A very happy holiday to you!"

The night’s celebration passed without further incident, and an exhausted Rabbi Lipsycz retired to his hotel room in the army base located nearby. At 7:00 a.m. he awoke and began the trek back to the prison, wondering what was in store.

As he neared the barbed wire gates, an anxious guard ran out to greet him. "‘Good morning, Rabbi! The warden would like to speak with you."

"Oh, joy..." he muttered and traced his steps towards the warden’s office. It was a sight to see. The burly warden sat in the corner of his leather chair like a beaten puppy, his head hanging. His eyes were bagged and his face looked haggard. He glanced up, and seeing Rabbi Lipsycz, looked away. His voice trembled as he mumbled, "Do whatever you like."

Rabbi Lipsycz looked at him, a hint of a smile in the corner of his eyes. "I’ll hold to my side of the compromise – all I want is permission to bring in the food."

"Whatever you say."

The rest of Rosh HaShana proceeded joyfully; the warden was seldom seen. It was an overjoyed Rabbi Lipsycz who came home that Monday night, and as he stepped over the threshold, the phone rang.

"Hello, Rabbi, this is Dr. Riggs. How was your holiday?"

"Just fine, thank G-d. Everything turned out alright."

"I’m very glad to hear that." The relief was evident in the man’s voice. "However, can you please do me a favor?"

"What’s that?" Rabbi Lipsycz asked innocently.

"I’m going to give you my personal phone number. Whenever there’s a problem, come directly to me; you don’t have to get the President involved!"