In honor of the anniversary of the Rebbe and the Rebbetzin, we present an excerpt from an upcoming book on the life of the Rebbetzin.
By Dovid Zaklikowski, Hasidic Archives
Some 700 miles away from Rostov, in Ekaterinoslav (today Dnipro), lived another Schneerson family. Rabbi Levi Yitzchak “Reb Levik” (1878-1944), the city’s rabbi, and Rebbetzin Chana (1880-1964), like the Schneersohns’ in Rostov, displayed self-sacrifice for Jewish life in their city, and beyond.
Young Mendel, born in 1902, watched his parents struggle for the spiritual and material welfare of the Jewish community. Curious by nature, he devoured volumes of scholarly texts on a myriad of subjects. Despite his modest nature, like his distant cousin Rebbetzen Moussia, he was compelled to step in at times.
“Since I was the eldest of the family,” he would later recall, “I was invited from time to time to the offices of the Yevsektsiya for interrogation where they would shout, pressure and curse me.”
In 1922, Rabbi Mendel traveled for the first time to Rostov to meet the Schneersohns, and to introduce himself as a potential match for their middle daughter, Rebbetzen Moussia. In the summer of 1923, Mendel met more extensively with Rebbetzen Moussia in the spa city of Kislovotzk.
On the way home, Mendel stopped in Rostov to spend a week at the court of the Rebbe Rayatz, where they spent several hours together daily. Afterwards, the Rebbe Rayatz wrote to Rebbetzen Moussia, who remained in Kislovotzk, “This week I learned in great detail the ways of Mendel.” Like Moussia, he wrote, Mendel enjoyed the quiet of the North Caucasus mountains.
It was soon clear that Mendel would marry Rebbetzen Moussia. In a letter to her friend, Rebbetzen Moussia wrote, “I will still be a Schneersohn, for my in-laws’ family name is Schneerson. The truth is that this is very gratifying to me.”
It was just after midnight on Wednesday, June 15, 1927 (the 15th of Sivan), and Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak had finished receiving visitors. The Rebbe Rayatz was sitting down to supper with his family when officers of the GPU, the Soviet secret service, barged into the home. It had already been an intense week for the Rebbe Rayatz, as he had collaborated with other rabbinical figures to stop a meeting that would have had detrimental effects on Jewish activities. At the end of the search, the Rebbe Rayatz was arrested. Before driving away, he told his family, “Be well and strong, and may G‑d help us to be reunited soon in good health.” The car then sped off to the notorious Spalerno Prison.
The Rebbe Rayatz was charged under two statutes. One was religious prejudices of the masses in order to incite, and the second charge was for teaching religious beliefs to minors.
The punishment ranged from one year in prison to death via a firing squad. “The famous Lubavitcher Rebbe has been arrested on the accusation that he collected money for the maintenance of his Yeshiva,” the Jewish Telegraph Agency (JTA) reported in June. “The Yeshiva of the Lubavitcher Rebbe enjoyed great prestige in the Jewish world, being one of the most famous Yeshivas. Rabbi Schneersohn holds a position of high regard and esteem.”
A month later, under pressure from Germany, United States, Latvia and others, the Soviet authorities commuted the Rebbe Rayatz’s sentence to exile, and then freed him entirely. “The Soviet government granted the request of leaders of the Jewish population in the Union and abroad,” reported the JTA, “to release [the rabbi] from arrest and exile. It was announced today that the ‘case’ will be dropped.”
Just after Sukkos, in the fall of 1927, the Rebbe Rayatz left the Soviet Union for Latvia, never to return to his country of birth.
Leaving the Soviet Union was difficult for Rebbetzen Moussia. “Despite the difficulties in our homeland, I still did not want to leave,” she wrote her friend. She felt that their escape had a dreamlike quality and did not believe it was happening “until we arrived to the other side of the border.”
She found the Latvian locals to be cold and apathetic. “It is not a nice city, and we are estranged to the people here.” She wrote that they had difficulty finding an apartment and they were all tired, exhausted and, each in their own way, ridden with anxiety.
Rabbi Mendel, uninterested in public leadership positions, left for Berlin a month after his arrival to pursue a university education. Many weeks later, in April of 1928, he received his papers to remain in Berlin and study.
Simultaneously, preparations were underway for the long-awaited wedding.
Rebbetzen Moussia worried about when the wedding would be, and what it would be like. Seven years prior, her sister had wed in a simple ceremony without food or dancing, and there was concern her wedding would follow suit.
In the summer of 1928, an aide of Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak wrote to a colleague in the United States about their difficulty affording even basic necessities. He added that the wedding of Rebbetzen Moussia and Rabbi Mendel had been postponed repeatedly due to lack of funds and that this bothers Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak greatly, but it was difficult for the Rebbe to openly request that others fund the wedding.
As the months passed, Rebbetzen Moussia struggled in Riga. She wrote to her friend, “Life is boring and monotone. Sometimes I feel like returning ‘home.’ I would [even] go there by foot. However, it seems this will not happen anytime soon.”
Once funds were secured, seemingly from supporters in the United States, and a date was finally set for the wedding, Rebbetzen Moussia felt her future was brighter. “I am preparing to travel to Warsaw for the wedding is there on November 27th. I would be so happy if you would be able to come, but it seems to be just a faraway dream. Therefore, I ask of my dearest to remember me, your longtime friend, on this day.”
She wrote of her excitement to join Rabbi Mendel (referring to him as Michoel Louvitch, a Russian nickname for “the son of Levi”) in Berlin, away from life in Riga.
Thousands of invitations were printed, with several versions, including one for those in the Soviet Union who would not be able to attend. It read: “Since for reasons that are beyond our control, it will not be possible for them, or for us, to fulfill our hearts or your pure hearts desires, to celebrate together in joy.… We ask that in one of the synagogues, or study halls, gather … with love and solidarity, in gladness and joy, to join the celebration from faraway.”
The typed invitation was divided into four stanzas. The first letter of each stanza formed the word ahavah, love, in Hebrew.
Two weeks before the wedding, Rebbetzen Moussia travelled with her mother to Warsaw to prepare for the wedding. As the auspicious day approached, Rebbetzen Moussia’s grandmother, Rebbetzin Shterna Sarah, was overjoyed, and wrote, “Thank G-d we are living in a better time, a time for joy… the wedding of my granddaughter.”
The Young Woman
Several months after their marriage, in January 1929, the Rebbetzin and Rabbi Menachem Mendel (then known amongst Chassidim as the Ramash) traveled to Riga, where they remained for close to two months before continuing on to Berlin.
It had taken much effort on the Ramash’s part to convince his future mother-in-law, Rebbetzen Nechama Dina, to allow her daughter to leave the family hub. He had opened the discussion several months before the wedding, and tried to impress how good Berlin would be for the Rebbetzin. He told her that Berlin was not just beautiful, but that the calm atmosphere would benefit his wife.
“The Germans permit themselves to stroll on the streets,” he descriptively wrote, “with their jackets in one hand, and a kerchief to wipe away the sweat in the other.” He continued, “At sundown, doors of the homes open wide, and families sit together. They gaze at the moon, happy with life, themselves, their spouses and children.”
When it finally came to their departure, it was hard for the Rebbetzin to leave her family. She knew it would be a good change for her, but she feared the repercussions it might have on others. “I am very worried about leaving,” she wrote to her friend, “since our family is very lonely. The house is empty and boring, and when we will leave, it will really be somber. These thoughts give me no rest, but I cannot change anything.”
In a letter dated shortly after their arrival in Berlin, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak wrote to his son-in-law that he needs to properly contemplate the good pearls “that G-d gave you.” The Ramash did not fully understand what his father-in-law was referring to. Many months later, on the Rebbetzin’s 29th birthday, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak explained, “The good pearls are my daughter, your esteemed wife.”
Dovid Zaklikowski is a journalist, biographer and archivist, his books are available at HasidicArchives.com, his latest essay can be read on RebbeSchneerson.com and he can be reached at [email protected].
Who appears in the photo with the young Rebbetzin?