By Chana Motchkin for COLlive
It is said that throughout the dark years, Chassidim remaining in Soviet Russia would retell this story at their clandestine Yud-Tes Kislev gatherings year after year, reliving the warmth and sincerity of the following encounter.
They would conclude by saying that they repeat the story by the Rebbe‘s directive.
The ‘Choizer’ Reb Yoel Kahan shared that my late father-in-law R’ Mulleh Motchkin told this story to the Rebbe and then apologized for taking up the Rebbe’s precious time with his personal experiences.
The Rebbe responded that, on the contrary, this story should be repeated and retold amongst Chassidim.
*
There are colored clocks of time beating to the rhythm of our hearts. We step in and out of our past only to keep those vibrant impressions of yesterday from fading. Quietly, patiently and lovingly, we form a face in time that is marked by memories. By stories of heroism, love and faith.
I offer you an opportunity to meet or remember an individual so kind and strong. A soul whose life was lived not to be seen or heard but to notice, and listen and give. A brilliant mind that understood matters of the heart as it weaved together the unspoken truth of time, pain and endurance.
*
A Yud Tes Kislev Story:
Dim with twilight and with tears. The cries of a thousand souls blackened the sky as another night descended on an already dark city.
Leningrad, the original capital of the Russian Empire, came under siege from German forces in September of 1941. The prolonged military blockade lasted until January 1944.
Although hunger was not the only hardship that the citizens of Leningrad faced, Famine was the main cause of death, as thousands perished under these unspeakable circumstances. Communist authorities had tried to destroy Jewish life throughout the Soviet Union, and the siege only intensified the struggle. The agony. The torture. The helplessness.
Many heroic Chassidim fought endlessly to keep the flame of Judaism alive in themselves and others. Their Mesiras Nefesh surpassed any description that my limited imagination could perceive. I tremble at the thought of such bravery and dedication.
R’ Mulle Motchkin OBM was one of those brave Chassidim. He was born in Semyonovka to his esteemed parents, R’ Peretz and Henya Motchkin. Shortly after his Bar Mitzvah in 1931, the family moved to the city of Leningrad, where he spent his youth observing authentically faithful and immensely wise Chassidim.
When bombs began to rain down on the city, many Chassidim escaped deeper into Russia towards perceived safety. R’ Mulle stayed behind to fulfill certain tasks.
*
It was the winter of 1941-2. Leningrad wept. Atrocities lay beneath the snow and there were stains of grief behind the whiteness. The moon seemed to know the painful sighs that echoed in many hearts. Its pale glow, a faded smile, a hint of light and life.
It was Yud Tes Kislev. Whispers of secret songs and deep truths filled the world. Chassidim felt the imposing spiritual strength. R’ Mulle, still trapped within Leningrad, yearned to be with his fellow chassidim. He wanted to Farbreng and connect, and celebrate this special time known as the New Year of Chassidus.
The day marks the birth of Chassidism through the liberation of the first Chabad Rebbe, the Alter Rebbe, who brought the inner soul of Torah to life through his teachings. For generations, Yud Tes Kislev has been and continues to be a day for Chassidic gatherings and a renewal of the study and the ways of Chassidus.
Surrounded by a humanitarian catastrophe and heavy religious oppression, R’ Mulle was committed. His inner flame would burn through the frost and the anguish. As winter’s wrath raged and countless cold, tired hearts ached for a morsel of nourishment. R’ Mulle managed to procure some slivers of food and made his way to the home of a respected Chossid, one of the few that remained, Reb Avrohom Yeshaya Schapiro.
The home of Reb Avrohom Yeshaya was filled with intense sorrow as starvation and hunger loomed over the desperate souls of his family. Disease and heartache threatened their existence with the unseen world of survival beyond reach.
R’ Mulle brought this meager yet valuable bit of food into the Schapiro home along with indescribable conviction and courage. The strength and spirit that only a Chossid can own. Obtaining food was miraculous enough, and to come by food with the proper kosher standard, was close to impossible.
Reb Avrohom Yeshaya who was already bedridden as his body was succumbing to hunger, refused to eat anything. R’ Mulle and a fellow Chossid R’ Mulle Berezsin, pleaded with him to at least allow his children to eat, but he dismissed the very notion.
R’ Mulle stood near Reb Avrohom Yeshaya’s bed. It was Yud Tes Kislev. In that moment, a soft melody, a trace of purity, a distant song hung in the air. Three chassidim. One heart. Their souls see what is invisible to the eye. They farbreng.
It was then time to sing the Alter Rebbe’s Niggun and Reb Avrohom requested to be elevated to a sitting position out of respect and reverence. His friends embraced his fragile body and held him lovingly and dutifully.
They sang this most powerful niggun on the most powerful night. Time stood still. Reality was silenced. Locked in that moment of love and unity, there was only truth. Voices unblemished and refined. Voices that let the dust of despair settle into eternal sparks.
*
Most of the Schapiro family didn’t survive through the month. R’ Avrohom Yeshayeh Schapiro’s neshama returned to its creator on the 23 of Kislev, a mere 4 days after Yud Tes Kislev.
Every Yud Tes Kislev, in the quiet chambers of my heart, I can hear them still singing the Alter Rebbe’s niggun. In my mind’s eye, I see a flame swaying to the sounds of this holy tune, igniting and awakening the souls of generations of Chassidim.
In loving memory of R’ Shmuel Ben R’ Peretz Motchkin
What a beautifully written story!
Thanks for sharing!
Thank you for bringing this story of love and devotion of a special yid Reb Mule Motchkin.
Tragically moving. Brilliantly written.
A giant of a man . R’ Mulleh was a true hero amongst a generation of chassidim who valiantly defied oppresively brutal circumstances. May R’ Mulleh and all his colleagues be gutte better for our generation, their descendants
Whilst most of the family didn’t survive, bh two Shapiro sisters did survive and both of them have built beautiful Lubavitch families. The Raskin and Schtroks families in Stamford Hill , London. Both bh have many descendants living across the world.
Mrs Riva Raskin was my beloved grandmother.
Thank you for sharing. I don’t understand the part where he wouldn’t allow his starving children to eat. Am I misunderstanding. Pleas explain this part:
“ R’ Mulle and a fellow Chossid R’ Mulle Berezsin, pleaded with him to at least allow his children to eat, but he dismissed the very notion.“
He wouldn’t eat, nor would he let his children eat none kosher food even as he and his children with literally starving to death.
There is obviously more to this story than what’s written here.
he refused to eat or allow his kids to eat non kosher meat even in those dire times. he would try to trade it for grains and such. at the time of 19 kislev he was so weak they were trying to convince him to eat or at least allow his kids which he did not allow cuz it was treif
The Food wasnt kosher, I heard it was Horse meat. There was no Food and it was Pikuach Nefesh so Reb Mulleh Brought it with him.
“Obtaining food was miraculous enough, and to come by food with the proper kosher standard, was close to impossible.”
The storyteller makes it seem like the food was kosher, maybe that is why it’s confusing
Perhaps some context would help
Either way, it is told with spellbinding description, an amazing writer, telling about extraordinary people. Their descendants (Motchkin, Schtroks, Raskin, etc) have a beautiful legacy, and big shoes to fll
He is my great uncle. Thank you Chana for writing up the story so beautifully.