Self-Discovery
At a strange hotel, artist Chanoch Lieberman confronts a haunted guest. A nod of the head, or quiet reproach, teach deep lessons to a bookkeeper and a visiting Israeli. The Avner Institute presents three amazing anecdotes, as told by the Rebbe’s secretary Rabbi Leibel Groner and by Rabbi Levin from Kiryat Malachi, on the Rebbe’s power to seek out each Jew, no matter how far physically or spiritually, and to send out personal messages, directly or indirectly.
Out of the Past
Rabbi Levin relates:
Before famed Chassidic artist Hendel (Chanoch) Lieberman (1900-76) was to appear at an international art exhibit, he went to the Rebbe to ask for a blessing.
The Rebbe greeted him warmly and, after an exchange of pleasantries, discussed with him various details about the exhibit.
Suddenly he asked, “Where are you staying?”
When the artist mentioned the name of a certain hotel, the Rebbe replied, “May I ask you a favor?”
“Certainly,” the artist said.
“Please switch hotels. There is one not far from the exhibit,” and the Rebbe promptly gave the name and address.
R’ Hendel, surprised at the request, nevertheless acquiesced.
Two days after his arrival, he heard a knock on the door. Standing outside was a man in late middle age.
“May I borrow your tallis and tefillin?” he asked.
R’ Hendel stared at him. Clearly this man wasn’t observant: he stood there bareheaded, clothing a tad too modern.
Nevertheless, he answered, “Why yes, of course,” then handed his tallis bag over.
But he decided not to remain in his own room. His curiosity had gotten too much to him. He followed the stranger to the latter’s room.
The man entered his room, where he lovingly removed the prayer shawl from the bag and wrapped the tefillin around his arm. Then his lips mumbled Hebrew words.
To R’ Hendel’s surprise, tears flowed from the man’s eyes.
Over the next few days, this scene repeated itself. Always the man asked to borrow R’ Hendel’s shawl and tefillin. Always the emotional outburst.
On the last day, as R’ Hendel was preparing to return home, he could no longer contain his curiosity. He hurried down the hall and rapped on the man’s door.
The man opened and stared at R’ Hendel in surprise. “So, you’re leaving?”
“Yes,” R’ Hendel answered. “But I’d like to know – why did you keep borrowing my tallis and tefillin? I see it was a very heavy experience for you.”
The man sighed and looked away, as if lost in thought. Finally he answered, “I was once observant – long ago. In fact, my father was Chassidic. But . . . you know how it is, living in America. The modern world, and everything. I gradually moved away from my roots, and my upbringing. Soon the world I left behind seemed as remote to me as a tropical island.
“But then I saw you. Your beard, peyos – everything. It brought up something within me – memory, nostalgia, I don’t know. I thought of a lot of things, about my past, roots. And a lot of regrets. And I just felt the need to return.”
He shook his head. “Amazing. Out of all the hotels in this city, you came to this one – and just down the hall. Someone was sending me messages, I guess.”
Settling Accounts
Rabbi Leibel Groner OBM relates:
Every community has a gemach – a free loan society. Crown Heights has several, one of which is called Gemilus Chassadim Shomrei Shabbos.
The Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn was president of this society. Every year, on Shabbos Mishpatim – late winter – his assistant Rabbi Yochanan Gordon would approach the Rebbe with an annual report: how many loans were given, for what sums, how many were repaid, and how many contributed. Each time the Rebbe Rayatz received the report with a smile and a thank you.
Following the Rebbe Rayatz’s passing, the current Rebbe was asked to take over the presidency of the gemach. The Rebbe agreed.
While preparing the first annual report for the new president, the assistant once again looked over the rows and columns of figures. That year had been a big success, even more so than the previous. The amount of loans was greater, as were the amount of repayments and the increase in contributions.
“Well,” Rabbi Gordon mused, “if I went to the Rebbe Rayatz and got a big smile and thank you, I can just imagine how our new Rebbe will react!”
He approached the Rebbe’s office and walked in, proudly presenting the latest report.
Quietly the Rebbe scanned the pages. In the meantime, Rabbi Gordon waited.
The Rebbe raised his head. “R’ Yochanan, this was all you could do? No more?”
The assistant face fell. Then he started to squirm in embarrassment. Later he remarked, “If there had been a big hole in that room, I would’ve wanted to crawl in!”
The Rebbe, noticing the latter’s discomfort, softened his voice. “Why don’t you take an example from me?
“You know that every night we say the bedtime Shema. As we do, we are supposed to make a spiritual accounting of how the day went, what should have been, and what actually was. We also decide what needs correcting.”
The Rebbe leaned back and spread his hands wide. “Every night, when I make a spiritual accounting, I say to myself: is that all I did today?”
“Yes, I Mean You!”
Rabbi Levin relates:
Here’s a story showing the Rebbe’s great love for everyone. Believe me, when I say that no one gets overlooked, ever.
Y.Z.V. was an Israeli, newly observant, who came to the Rebbe for the very first time. A simple, warmhearted Jew, an Israeli Everyman, he was content to stand on the great pyramid of bodies towards the rear of 770. Even from there, however, he managed to take in the words of Torah and the intensely spiritual atmosphere.
After finishing his discourse, the Rebbe began to lead his Chassidim in song, then a communal l’chaim. He raised his glass and thrust his arm outward in a sort of motioning manner.
Befuddled, Y.Z.V. stared at the Rebbe, wondering whom the arm was motioning to. Innocently, he pointed at himself as though asking, “Do you mean me?”
The Rebbe stared at him. He nodded his head twice, indicating, “Yes, I mean you!”
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