Farbrengen 19 Kislev 5745, Kfar Chabad - Media Coverage - 1

00:22 Speaker 1 I believe with all my heart in the coming of Moshiach, I believe. I believe with all my heart in the coming of Moshiach, I believe. The coming of Moshiach, the coming of Moshiach. The coming of Moshiach, the coming of Moshiach. The coming of Moshiach, the coming of Moshiach.

00:47 Speaker 2 Ladies and gentlemen, good evening and greetings to you all. It is 19 Kislev, and we are in the midst of the celebration. Chabad chassidim everywhere in the world are celebrating today, 19 Kislev, the Festival of Liberation: the release of the Alter Rebbe, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, founder of Chabad Chassidus, from a Russian prison in 5559, 186 years ago. We have joined the celebrants here at the central synagogue in Kfar Chabad. The hall is packed with local residents and visitors. The atmosphere is uplifting, and there is great joy. Only someone who is here this evening can truly feel this joy. For our part, we can only try to bring you a little of it.

01:40 Speaker 1 The coming of Moshiach, the coming of Moshiach. The coming of Moshiach, Moshiach. I believe with all my heart in the coming of Moshiach, I believe. The coming of Moshiach, the coming of Moshiach. The coming of Moshiach, the coming of Moshiach. The coming of Moshiach, the coming of Moshiach. The coming of Moshiach, Moshiach.

05:15 Speaker 3 Every year on 19 Kislev, crowds flock here to take part in the great farbrengen. As you can see, it is crowded—even a little difficult for us—but the main thing is that everyone is happy and in good spirits. One of the celebrants who never misses an occasion like this is Natan Barkan. Good evening, Nuske.

05:33 Speaker 4 Well, that’s Babi. What do you want? What? Quite a big one.

05:36 Speaker 3 You say, “Happy holiday.”

05:37 Speaker 4 Happy holiday and a good year. May we be inscribed and sealed.

05:41 Speaker 3 Nuske, 186 years, and every year the same joy, the same intensity. How is that?

05:47 Speaker 4 I’ve celebrated it for almost a third of that time myself.

05:51 Speaker 3 Nuske, do you remember any particularly special farbrengen?

05:55 Speaker 4 I remember many.

05:57 Speaker 3 Tell us.

05:57 Speaker 4 I remember when I was young, back when I was still a little child. Later, I remember life underground, when we celebrated in a train station, or in some basement, or in some hut. And I remember how many tears we shed in those hard days, when we were behind bars. But through it all, our only hope was [unclear].

06:30 Speaker 5 Nuske, which farbrengen stands out especially in your memory?

06:33 Speaker 4 I would single out two, uh, two farbrengens. One was during the hardest times, in 1953, when we expected them to come for us at any moment and send us into exile. That day, by chance, we heard two pieces of news from someone we trusted. We learned that the previous Rebbe was no longer with us. But there was also joy in learning that, boruch Hashem, we had a Rebbe, and that he would lead us. We look forward to his bringing us to greet Moshiach. Can you imagine those days? You sit there, your parents long for you, the fear outside keeps growing, but inside we were free, and we celebrated. We merited then to put into practice, as they say, that essential point our Rebbeim handed down to us from the Alter Rebbe, who received it from Rabbi Akiva and Avraham Avinu—the meaning of the mitzvah.

07:47 Speaker 5 Nuske, where was that farbrengen?

07:50 Speaker 4 It was in Riga.

07:51 Speaker 5 Nuske, do you remember your first farbrengen after leaving the Soviet Union?

07:56 Speaker 4 Oh, that was with the Rebbe. Let me paint you a picture, Avi. Back then there weren’t televisions—not for me, anyway, from my childhood until almost the time I came here. But when I came out of the darkness, from behind the Iron Curtain, and merited to be with the Rebbe on 19 Kislev, there was a huge hall: twenty-six meters wide, forty-three meters long, seven meters high. People were standing right up to the ceiling, and the Rebbe was seated like a king, like Moshiach. And there was an extraordinary hush. Then, somehow, out of that stillness and silence, one of the elder chassidim, Reb Zalman Shemtov, alav hashalom, began to sing. “Marmiya ad Mara,” we cried out. Can you imagine the entire hall—seven thousand people—beginning to sing it all at once? Everyone felt that he truly was a soldier of the Rebbe.

08:57 Speaker 6 Nuske, are they celebrating the Festival of Liberation in the Soviet Union this evening too?

09:01 Speaker 4 Yes. Yesterday I received a gift from the Soviet Union. Our friends there are living in distress beyond description. Someone who lives in what is called the free world will never understand what the Soviet Union is, what it means to be there. And they are celebrating. They sent a bottle of vodka.

09:25 Speaker 6 And where is the vodka?

09:27 Speaker 4 I gave it to the vodka drinkers over there, in the east.

09:31 Speaker 6 Nuske, let’s go inside and celebrate a little with everyone else. We’ll drink a little vodka too. Many of the older people celebrating here this evening belong to the original group that settled the village. Kfar Chabad was founded in 5709, 1949, by the Frierdiker Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn. Its stated purpose, as he wrote to his chassidim, was “so that each and every one of you will be a lamp illuminating the darkness of exile.” The first settlers, some seventy-four families, came from the Soviet Union and settled on the land of the abandoned village of Safiriya. The settlers faced many hardships in those years, but it seems that it was a tragic event in the village that brought about the great turning point. It happened on Rosh Chodesh Iyar 5716, 1956.

10:56 Speaker 7 It was Rosh Chodesh Iyar, a night etched deeply in my memory. After Minchah, Rabbi Simcha Zev Strom[unclear] spoke with us about Rosh Chodesh and encouraged us, since we had come here without our parents. He gave us confidence: with Hashem’s help, everything would be all right. Afterward, we stood to daven Maariv. In the middle of Shemoneh Esrei, the door opened, and suddenly there was a burst of light. The light went out, and a burst of gunfire came in. Screaming, crying. We didn’t understand what had happened. Only afterward did we learn that a fedayeen squad had broken in and carried out the attack. Amid all the screaming and crying inside the garage, I wanted to find my younger brother. I felt responsible for him and needed to know how he was, whether he had been hurt. Somehow I reached him. On the way I came across the bodies of those who had been killed, the wounded, overturned chairs and overturned tables. That was how I somehow got to my brother. Meanwhile, our instructor, Rabbi Yeshaya Gopin, asked us to climb through the window into the living quarters. As we crossed over, I helped two of the wounded who had no strength to get through. I used what little strength I had to help them into the living quarters. We barricaded ourselves there until the security forces arrived and got us out. That night haunted us for a very long time. Fear. We couldn’t go back to school. We were staying in the homes of villagers until Rabbi Tzvi Greenblatt arrived. Through his almost superhuman efforts, he managed to free us from that fear and from that night—that night, that night.

12:38 Speaker 8 When I arrived, I began looking into what I could do from an educational standpoint. I waited until evening, and I saw beds being moved. What was happening? They were barricading the doors with the Jewish Agency’s iron beds, closing off the windows. The sun was about to set; night was coming. I said, “Guys, I’m staying with you all night. There’s nothing to fear. Open the doors. Look at me—I know what I’m doing.” Little by little, I would take them out at night and walk with them through the orchards in the moonlight, on moonlit nights. And the boys recovered. They got up, the fear left them, and joy entered their hearts. The fact is that all those who stayed listened to the Rebbe and did not give in to pressure from their families. Youth Aliyah had psychologists too. They said, “Take the children out, so we can help them get over the trauma.” In the meantime, others said, “Let them stay.” Those who stayed came through it. It hurt; it is a scar that will never leave them. You can see them today; I meet them. From—how do you say it?—in those days, from Sharm to Mount Hermon; today the range is a bit smaller. You’ll find them in almost every branch of the security forces.

13:39 Speaker 9 Do you think that is a result of what happened?

13:42 Speaker 8 Look, it’s hard for me to delve into a child’s psychology, but they tell me, “Teacher Tzvi, we’re not taking revenge. My hands still smell of the blood of my friends whom I carried out. Maybe I just want to make sure it doesn’t happen to my children.” They work in police stations, in the army. Some are battalion commanders, brigade commanders; I just met a deputy squadron commander. They serve in the security forces, and you could say these young men have recovered. I used to take them out at night. You should have seen them—in those first nights they trembled, and now they are open. That is very important. And faith, the faith of a chossid. When the Rebbe said, “You are staying here,” even grown men wanted to run away.

14:25 Speaker 9 What actually happened with the residents of the village?

14:28 Speaker 8 At first they were in shock, and it wasn’t the first such incident. There had already been a case where someone fell on the main road, and it was a mystery until they found him, and until... That doesn’t mean bodies simply disappear. People disappear—Jews disappear—and sadly, bodies are found. From the moment the Rebbe’s telegram arrived, no one stood still. “You will find comfort in building.” You should have seen the surge of construction. They started building. I don’t remember a day, including a Friday before a Yom Tov, when you couldn’t hear hammers pounding. They kept building and building. You can see how it grew from the little shack and small house that were there, and I hope it will keep growing. And the important point, through it all, is always to see the joy. There is pain, there is—one can’t ignore it. When you say “you will be comforted,” it means there was a tragedy. But there must be comfort. So the tragedy happened, but the comfort must be doubled. Not just “Be comforted,” but “Comfort, comfort My people”—the seven weeks of consolation. And through that comfort, I hope we will keep up the momentum and continue building. Most importantly, with joy.

15:32 Speaker 9 Today, the village is home to about five hundred families and covers an area of some 2,400 dunams. Despite the village’s agricultural designation, most of its residents naturally work in education and teaching. The village has a large yeshiva, smaller yeshivas, a rabbinical seminary, and a residential institution for Bukharan children and children of immigrants. There is also a vocational boarding school for boys, with programs in mechanics, electronics, computers and more. Alongside these is a vast educational campus for girls, with a middle school, academic and vocational high schools, and a seminary for advanced teacher training. Thousands of students study in these institutions. The achievements speak for themselves. They spring from the inner vitality of Chabad chassidim—a vitality renewed and refreshed each year at the 19 Kislev celebrations of the Geulah.