Dancing while weeping
Following the chazzanim’s departure, I received a letter from them. After thanking me for various things, they wrote: “This is the first time in our lives we have witnessed such a phenomenon like the Rabbi of Yekatrinoslav, who, even as he rejoiced on Yom Tov with such extraordinarily joyous dancing, was weeping with such indescribable tears. Yet the tears impelled him to dance even more energetically!”
A conversation that requires close study
I recall our stay in Wiesbaden [Germany] in 1912. Late one Shabbat afternoon, the local Rabbi, Dr. Kohn,1 came to visit, spending more than two hours with us. The conversation remained one-sided throughout, as Dr. Kohn listened to my husband’s every word with great excitement.
Late in the evening, he turned to my husband and, with typical German formality, said, “Herr Rabbiner Schneerson: It is time to eat dinner and my wife is already waiting for me. But I cannot pull myself away from your talk. It is Torah that requires close study.”
To me he commented that I should see to it that all my husband’s talks be published.
Train meeting with a famous Yiddish writer
On another occasion, on our journey back from abroad, the writer S. Ansky2 joined our train in Warsaw. He sat down in our compartment, and a conversation ensued as we traveled. The conversation was mainly between my husband and the writer, and the topics included many stories about Chasidic Rebbes, Chasidim of previous times, renowned personalities and Jewish spiritual life in general.
Many Jewish passengers, young and old, from the neighboring train-cars, came into our compartment to listen to the conversation. At night they didn’t return to their compartments to sleep but stayed to listen to the conversation with great interest, for it was an exceptionally rich and wide-ranging discussion.
“My home is your home; I am not afraid!”
In 1946, when I was staying in Kraskovo,3 near Moscow, people were afraid to be seen anywhere near me. I was forced to lodge in a different location almost every night, because residency was granted only to those officially registered, and it would have been even more dangerous for me to show my identity card.4 So I had to seek ways to improve my situation.
I found out that an acquaintance, Dr. Landman, was living in Malakhovka, near Kraskovo. I went to see him in the hope that he could find a way to arrange for my residence to be made legal.
He received me in a most friendly manner, immediately telling me how he recalled the Yom Tov and Simchat Torah he had spent in our home. He had been employed at a hospital as a senior surgeon, and he took his vacation for the month of Tishrei.5 In order to feel the spiritual delight of Yom Tov as he imagined it should be, he chose to spend it in the company of Schneerson, the Rabbi of Yekatrinoslav.
“And now,” he told me, “I declare to you: My home is your home; I am not afraid!”
Selling the leaven one hundred percent
It is already after Passover, 5710 (1950). In the month of Av it will be six years since my husband’s passing. I am always reminded of episodes of his life.6
In order for him to carry out all necessary functions of an official Rav, the Jewish residents had to come to my husband [before Passover] to arrange the sale of their chametz. He always insisted on carrying out all his endeavors in absolute, one hundred percent truth, with profundity and nothing at all superficial. The same applied in this case—his desire was for the chametz to be utterly nullified.
A certain category of Jews, influenced by secular culture, viewed the sale of leaven with a critical eye and participated only in order not to affront the Rav’s religious sensibilities.
