What did the Rebbe feel about summertime – months of physical leisure or of spiritual laziness? The Avner Institute presents a strict letter stressing continuation of Torah observance, from which there is never a break or vacation.
This week’s e-mail is dedicated in loving memory of Hadassah Bas Schneur Zalman
“There can be No Interruption”
By the Grace of G-d
12 Iyar 5727
Brooklyn, NY
Mrs. Sarah Rifka Rosenbloom
501 W. 120th St., Apt. #6E
New York, NY 10027
Blessing and Greeting:
I duly received your letter in which you write that you and your husband are thinking of sending your son David to spend his summer vacation in a camp where Yosef Baumgarten is going to be counselor. This would be highly advisable, and for several reasons, and may G-d grant that he should have a wholesome and invigorating summer, both physically and spiritually.
Apropos of your mentioning your work with Tzach, I was pleased to receive reports from the Tzach administration about the productive meetings which you had organized, and will no doubt continue to do so in the future. Like all things of goodness and holiness, which should be on the ascendancy, I trust that your work with Tzach will likewise be advancing from strength to strength.
At this point, I cannot refrain from reiterating a remark which I have frequently made in connection with the summer vacation months. It is this: Although this period is called “vacation time” and a time for rest and recreation, etc., clearly in regard to Yiddishkeit there can be no “vacation,” both in regard to one’s self and family, as well as in regard to benefits to others.
On the contrary, inasmuch as this is a period of time when other pressures and duties are lessened, and one has more free time available, it provides a particularly good opportunity to intensify all activities relating to Torah and mitzvoth. Since the Torah and mitzvoth “are our life and the length of our days,” there can be no interruption, G-d forbid, in life and vitality. On the surface it might seem that any particular limb or aspect of the body is in a state of suspended animation. It must not be allowed to remain so for long, and should again be stimulated into activity and vitality. It is surely unnecessary to expand on this to you.
Now that I have had the opportunity of meeting your daughter and her husband personally, I take this opportunity to congratulate you on having such fine children. I was particularly gratified to note your influence on them. May you and your husband enjoy true Yiddish nachas from all your children.
With blessing,
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“My Personal Hero”
Gershon Ber Jacobson relates:
It was 1968. As a reporter, I travelled to many places. This time I went to Israel, still flush with victory after the Six Day War, in order to meet with defense minister and famed general Moshe Dayan. I was especially eager to congratulate the general for his military exploits and heroism that rescued the little nation the previous year from savage destruction.
We arranged a meeting by Ammunition Hill, in Jerusalem. The defense minister tried to be friendly, but was clearly struggling with physical discomfort. I knew he was still recovering from a recent car accident, which made me doubly grateful that he took out the time for me.
We shook hands, and I saw him wince. I asked, “Mr. Dayan, how are you feeling?”
He grimaced. “I am not feeling totally better from the crash. I still feel pain from time to time.”
“If you want,” I ventured, “you could write a pidyon nefesh to the Lubavitcher Rebbe.”
“A pidyon nefesh?”
“It’s a note Chassidim send to their Rebbe to ask for a blessing.”
Moshe Dayan, ever the secular Israeli, shrugged. “I don’t know about these things. Writing a pidyon nefesh? I’ve never really done it.”
Although hesitant, I managed to press further. “I’m flying back soon to New York. Why don’t you try it? If you’re interested, give me a bottle of liquor. When I get to the Rebbe’s farbrengen, I’ll place it on the Rebbe’s table. And you’ll get a blessing.”
Diffidently Moshe Dayan removed some Israeli bills from his pocket. “Here. Go buy a bottle of liquor and place it on the Rebbe’s table in my merit.”
Back in New York, I sat among hundreds in the cavernous hall of 770, hearing the voice of the Rebbe at the farbrengen. Somehow, I made my way through the sea of bodies and placed the mashke, the liquor, on the Rebbe’s table.
“Rebbe, this is from Moshe Dayan,” I said.
The Rebbe turned to me and asked, “Reb Moshe son of whom?”
I suddenly felt at a loss of words. I had forgotten to get the mother’s name!
“I don’t know,” I stammered.
A yeshiva student saved the day. A young Israeli, seated not far, approached me and gave over the mother’s name. Apparently he had known a lot about this famous general, a hero and patriot to so many of his countrymen. This young man was definitely my personal hero – someone whose presence within earshot of the Rebbe and me was clearly Divine providence.
The Rebbe then raised his cup and said, “L’chaim, Moshe ben Devorah Leah. May he have a refuah shaleimah, a complete recovery!”
Afterwards, the Rebbe returned the bottle of mashke to me and asked that I make sure it got back to its rightful owner, the defense minister.
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