Farbrengen of 24 Teves 5773, Tel Aviv

00:02 Speaker 1 Shema Yisroel. I wasn’t knowledgeable enough to open with a few words, but can you hear him? Hashem isn’t giving me a moment [unclear]. My father. But I don’t know very much about this story of the Rashatz and the first tzaddik. There’s a connection between the shul and [unclear], Reb Chaim, Reb Charlap—just as you said, the Rashatz, Reb Yurka[?]—the shul. There’s a connection; there’s a community. Hashem isn’t letting me speak at the level I wanted to. He reminded me of my father, and I know he had no doubt about wanting to speak about him and [unclear]. It’s called [unclear]. Once, it was done more and more in Hebrew. He himself never spoke of his own virtues. To me, he represented the image of a Lubavitcher Rebbe, and over this past year I’ve been occupied with the twentieth year. So perhaps it’s worth mentioning him here. [unclear] offered me the privilege of speaking about [unclear]. Mr. Tzvi the younger offered to contribute something else. You understand that it could be otherwise, but this is about seeing the figure of a chossid. The rabbi was a chossid through and through. There was a special connection between his choice and Chabad in Tel Aviv, and his teacher was with Chabad in Tel Aviv. I remembered this from the age of sixteen, and we mentioned it there at the funeral: the well-known story about a chossid of the Alter Rebbe. What was his name? Was it Bagis? I don’t remember—Bagis? I’m sorry. In any event, something happened to some of his friends, and he came and told them, “I’m leaving now. I’m going to the Rebbe.” Afterward, he said he would come to a farbrengen. He said he would come to a farbrengen of the Alter Rebbe [unclear], and so it was. The rabbi had a special connection with Tanya. I always remember

03:06 Speaker 1 how he would sit in the shul before davening, after davening, during davening. He would sit there for two hours looking into Tanya—at a farbrengen, too, again and again and again. It was as though Tanya was part of him. Several times I happened to meet shluchim—a shliach to [unclear], a shliach to Vienna—and they would always tell me, “You have no idea what your neighbor does for me.” “What does he do? Is he a diamond dealer?” I asked. “What does he do?” Of course, there’s a place for publicity and such things, but just for amusement: do you know what it does when people see him come to shul in the morning and sit for an hour or two, davening as though the world doesn’t exist, studying Tanya? You know, you meet businessmen. I don’t know what impression it makes on people—people are different—but they see what a Jewish chossid is, what Torah and a tzaddik are. I traveled with him for quite a few years—ten years, on that same [unclear]. On one flight there were also several chassidim who came over and asked me [unclear]. They told me, “We live in Tel Aviv, and you also suggested that we daven in [unclear] and Yavneh.” That Jew was a symbolic figure in Tel Aviv, a respected man. I asked them, “What do you think of him?” “A tzaddik, a tzaddik, a tzaddik, a tzaddik!” Tell him he’s a tzaddik and he would [unclear]. He was a chossid, a Chabad chossid, a chossid devoted to Torah and to the tzaddik. I can’t forget it. I was traveling with him then, on my first trip by car in nineteen nineteen [unclear], carrying suitcases. What did traveling by car mean? It wasn’t like today, when you take [unclear], so

05:28 Speaker 1 [unclear] at Binyanei HaUma. It was still a journey, with the coming Yom Kippur [unclear], and I needed another [unclear]. We were traveling the next day, around Yom Kippur. Of course, it was Yom Kippur, and we were in the shul in Tel Aviv. I don’t remember how many people were davening there at all. Someone else arrived every moment. [unclear] sat there, [unclear] sat there, [unclear] sat there—the chazzan, everyone. Each one said, “Remind me, remind him, remind him, remind him.” We were spending Yom Kippur in the shul [unclear]. [unclear] had to go to [unclear] because it was obligatory. We had to get moving. Oy, we needed to leave! It was already four, five, six-thirty, and we were supposed to leave at four. We needed to leave for the airport. We were supposed to leave at four for the airport with [unclear]. My father loaded me up: “Put down the suitcases.” He wanted to say something before they set out. The taxi had already been waiting for ten minutes. [unclear] take him to the airport and come with him. People said, “Do you know what kind of [unclear]?” His grandfather. Do you remember her? She was a woman from a Polish family, with a head full of curls, who wanted to walk around. Everyone was worried, and we needed to leave for the airport. So [unclear] asked Grandfather. [unclear] “Let him drop me off, and I’ll walk down the street.” I remember him walking toward the Marmara market. You know, this went on for ten years. So what happened? In short, he finished davening as though nothing else existed. For those ten minutes, he didn’t deal with anything else. Whatever anyone asked of him didn’t matter. When he davened, he

07:39 Speaker 1 didn’t know about it. He didn’t know how things were going to work out now. Yes, we could make the trip, but right now it was time to daven. When you finished davening, [unclear]. These are things you can’t forget. What is a chossid’s davening? What is it? Just to daven. To daven—and that was how we helped ourselves, [unclear]. Until his very last moment, davening was davening. Half an hour. [unclear] he couldn’t go on any longer. [unclear] Even in business, when he heard about a problem, he would say, “There should be a blessing in holiness.” That is the figure of a chossid—but not only of a chossid: of a Jew, of a chossid of the Rebbe. Someone spoke earlier about his [unclear]: we would never sit when the Rebbe entered the shul. But I want to tell you about something from the later years. I can’t [unclear]. It was in 5751. The Rebbe wanted to travel to the United States [unclear]. When he [unclear], the Rebbe came out of the [unclear] upstairs in the shul, with a towel over his shoulder. I think he went toward the building beside it, turned right, and went in. He came straight into the shul. Suddenly, he turned around—and there were only two other people downstairs in the shul. Suddenly he turned and saw the Rebbe. That’s what he told me; I arrived afterward. He turned around and saw the Rebbe. The Rebbe was already sitting in the shul with the towel over his shoulder, handling a scroll—what kind of scroll was it? Ah?

09:44 Speaker 2 A Torah scroll.

09:46 Speaker 1 With a sefer, with a sefer. He says to me, “[unclear], I thought it was Moshiach.” What’s the connection between Moshiach and a sefer wrapped in a towel? He says, “Ah, here, here comes Moshiach all of a sudden—no preparation, nothing. That’s how it will be.” But I want to go back a few years. I always think to myself: there are so many famous pictures of the Rebbe holding a Torah scroll. And he merited something special. There are many, many Jews, chassidim with a connection to the Rebbe, who carried out the Rebbe’s mission, together with their families. But he, specifically, merited this. When people see the picture of the Rebbe at the presentation of the Torah scroll, right away it says 1990, 1992, 1972. Rashi—what is Rashi? [unclear]. Everyone knew, Jews knew, that it was his father and grandfather, and he merited to be seen standing close to his Rebbe. He merited that. He doesn’t want that. When [unclear] with the Rebbe, you see his name beside his Rebbe. When he wrote that he was now among the Rebbe’s [unclear], that was a period long before Gimmel, Daled. And one of the Jews here, [unclear] Rabbi Shimon Saunders, was then Chabad’s foreign minister, and he came. I remember him coming to the shul and telling my father that there was a very special Torah scroll, [unclear], and that it would be worthwhile to give it to the Rebbe. His father wasn’t so eager to do it. People aren’t so eager to do something like that. That’s the story. How much was it? I don’t remember, but he said the boy would probably [unclear] in Jerusalem with his own money. And he... and he told him it was necessary. He chose to call it that. He said he was willing to give it, [unclear]. But he bought it and didn’t have the money. He took money intended for his son and for a shul in Jerusalem, and the payments of

12:11 Speaker 1 fifty liras every month were a lot of money. And after just three months, fifty liras were worth much more than fifty liras. Half a year later, he [unclear] at the shul. He said to him, “What happened? You aren’t making your payment.” He said, “I have proof. It says there [unclear].” I don’t know what’s growing up around me. So he said then that when one receives something significant, everything has to be settled before one sits down. And I gave names, but for all the... It simply pained him to be responsible for anything for which payment had not been received. He wanted it to be clean. I always saw that conduct in him, and it was a way of conduct that... He always said that when a mitzvah comes your way, you have to know exactly what mitzvah it is: what to contribute, what [unclear], what tefillin and tzitzis. Whatever you are told to pay, pay it exactly. Perhaps now you’ll know the halachah, what the ruling is on this conduct. [unclear] amid the great pressure and distress. The main thing was that when an opportunity for a mitzvah came his way, he never delayed. And above all, the main thing: [unclear] remembered the figure of his great father fondly. [unclear] each one, and what could that very, very young child possibly take in? Later there were some legal differences of opinion. He wanted to hear what [unclear] thought. It was something that occupied my mind, and he listened and sought out not only [unclear], but many others on the matter. Then the Rebbe responded and said, “Tell me what you’re saying now about this Jew. [unclear] About this Jew, I have never heard that the fate of the Jewish people was decreed in a way that would overwhelm him like that.” That was something at the heart of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. This Jew, [unclear], told me that he said

14:31 Speaker 1 that he estimated it at [unclear]. And this was at a time when everyone was pouring [unclear] on one another. What mattered was... But that’s how it was: “About this Jew, I have never heard [unclear] his fate.” You need something more... His entire conduct, his entire conduct, the way he expressed himself—the Rebbe was a father to the Jewish people. He didn’t start making films, and you wouldn’t hear that from the Rebbe. There was a period, but from the very first moment, from the very first moment, he was wholly ready to do the will of Heaven. When [unclear] arrived in Tel Aviv, he may have been a very reserved man. There was no great rebelliousness in him, but inwardly he was very devout. Remember the period when there was a cheder: Tel Aviv was once a center of Torah. Later it diminished as things moved elsewhere, uh, uh, [unclear], and so on. There was a large yeshivah, a large cheder, a major institution—the foundation of all the yeshivos in Tel Aviv, in [unclear]. Outside Jerusalem, it was in Tel Aviv. And then, one by one, they fell away from Torah; the numbers dwindled until two or three children remained, four children. And my father [unclear], and Uncle [unclear], spent their own money on the shul [unclear]. Why? Because the Rebbe wanted him to go to Tel Aviv. So that was that; he left only Itzik. He kept [unclear] going, because he understood: the Rebbe sent me to Tel Aviv; I have to make sure Tel Aviv [unclear]. As much as I can, I’ll [unclear] the children afterward, and they’ll build the city—the city of [unclear]. But in the end, he took that upon himself in practical ways. And I saw him again: it was as though there was no question of yes or no. These are my neighborhoods, and this is what I have to do. There are many, many examples of that. I just have to recall them. But the childhood of—of our Yehoshua, wait, if we’re talking at all

16:59 Speaker 1 about the whole course of things: he wanted Tel Aviv to develop, and he rejoiced over everything added to Tel Aviv. It wasn’t a matter of [unclear], or of Ramat Hasharon. Even so, he didn’t think of himself as a resident [unclear]. So what was my role? I don’t know. Really, it was the same thing. What I did for Tel Aviv, I did to make Tel Aviv greater for Jews, and above all, so that there would be something excellent here. That resolve, that desire, and that discipline—that was Tel Aviv. Even in his later years, when things had become difficult for him and my mother [unclear], and they wanted him perhaps to move and leave the children for Tzfas, he didn’t want to. “No, no, no. Tel Aviv,” he said. “This is my place, and this is where I belong.” And here too they would [unclear]. He understood that these were his neighborhoods, and he wanted to be here. He rejoiced over every development in Tel Aviv. He was happy there was a train here, happy there was a yeshivah here, and another yeshivah, and another yeshivah. And baruch Hashem, there is room for everyone. I’ll tell a small example. I tell this story—at the time, he wasn’t a rabbi, but he sat there. What does [unclear] mean? What does it mean at the [unclear] level of a rabbi? Once, in New York, on the night of [unclear], Rabbi... a rabbi in New York came over to me and said, “Listen.” I remember that my wife was then [unclear] too—not, not in the best way. I don’t know. But I don’t remember [unclear].

18:55 Speaker 3 Empire

18:56 Speaker 1 Empire. So we went for a walk [unclear], because it was early in the morning. On a Monday or Thursday, he came up to me and wanted me to go with him. He said to me, “Rabbi Stern, come with me for a moment. [unclear] I want to tell you what happened.” So he tells me that he bought a building here on Kingston, on Kingston Avenue, at Empire, a tall building. And he rented a suite there, a large suite, with his own money, from an account he had from the sale of [unclear]. And he tells me, “She’s moving to Kingston. She’s on Kingston, between Crown and [unclear]. Why should I put all my money into it? And now, really, I don’t want to manage [unclear]. What am I supposed to say?” And so they allowed me to buy another building or complex here. It doesn’t matter; I want to be nearby. And what will happen if I put my money into it—at the window rate, a lot of money? So I understood that [unclear]. But still, I said to him, “I’ll pay you, but come on, tell me [unclear].” He said to me, “You know what? Let’s talk to them properly now. I’ll daven.” All right, so I—I went in. I went in, I entered. It was already [unclear]; I couldn’t speak anymore. “I’ll speak for half an hour.” He closes the apartment. “Let’s go in to, uh, uh, Rabbi Gronau[?]. I’ll ask him the question, and if he tells you you’re right, I’ll immediately start [unclear] the davening, and I’ll daven for hours. And if he tells you you’re wrong, I’ll sit down, and then... that’s it.” We went in. There was a rabbi then in [unclear], the father of Meir Erlik[?]. He had been a rabbi in Pardes Katz, a courageous rabbi. We entered the house and sat down. I listened to him—I was beside myself. Then he says to him, “I want this.” He heard two words from them and changed his position. That was

21:11 Speaker 1 It could have happened. So the rabbi says to me, “And what about my livelihood? Am I supposed to sit here and do nothing?” Then he said, “[unclear]. Thank you.” “Bring it to me; I want to pay [unclear].” I get seventy, ninety [unclear]. The Torah delays the Geulah. Let me start from the beginning. And if, G-d forbid, some harm had come to a Jew here, remember that. If the Torah does not [unclear], then you have to come and say it plainly. You have to put [unclear] on him, with a Jewish [unclear]. So it is no different. Come. But [unclear] sees a thousand years ahead, what could happen. Because of that [unclear], he issued a written ruling that this and that could cause harm in the fullest sense of the word. That is his story. It is [unclear]. All right, where was I? What else came of it? [Unclear] for Rosh Hashanah, two lines [unclear]. I’m talking about other matters. Do you see the point? I’ll add a few more words. I think that was his broad outlook. I’m only bringing this as an example. There is room for everyone; everyone has an opportunity, and he wanted to bring out the best in everyone. He was happy about every development of Chabad in Tel Aviv and was ready to help, even though [unclear] was not quite as trusting as he was and would always say, “No more than [unclear]. This is how I want it, this is how it will be here, and my world will not change.” That was how [unclear] saw things. And thank G-d, today people are already doing [unclear]; they do not remember him, but he had a big hand in all of it. Wherever he is—

24:08 Speaker 1 he certainly knows the truth: the great merit he has in the Rebbe’s shlichus and in the generous support he gave to the development of Chabad institutions here. That certainly shows what an extraordinary quality he had. Besides that, I wanted to mention a few things I saw in his conduct—his yiras Shamayim, remarkable things. There is this matter of how he conducted himself. During his time in the army, he was one of the first religious officers in the Israel Defense Forces, among the religious people serving in the IDF. I remember the night he was called up. This was when the state was being established. The state was founded on a Friday, and on Motzaei Shabbos—on Shabbos—there were already Jews in the shul. He had been [unclear] with the convoys to Jerusalem. He came into the shul, shouting. He saw all the young men there and went over to them. “You see, if you don’t report to the army on Sunday, I’ll pick you up myself.” So the next morning we went, and they enlisted. You can’t say that the situation was exactly [unclear]. He was in a religious movement and came very close to [unclear], and somehow they managed to get him out of there and bring him to... He himself never had a moment to stop being a rabbi. [Unclear] a religious movement—not a religious movement, but something else. I remember those details. Later, too, in 5708, just after [unclear], Pesach 5708 arrived. It was a few months before [unclear]. Once, on 5 Tishrei, the first battles began. That was on Pesach 5708, and he was then a candidate for the position of religious officer of Central Command. The military rabbi of Central Command was Rabbi [unclear], who was also the rabbi of Haifa. He told me this story—

26:24 Speaker 1 Early in his career, Menachem was a lieutenant colonel, later a colonel. He laughed and told me that he had been Rabbi Gold’s [?] deputy. This was at the time of the first Seder held on an IDF base, at the base called Sarafand. As religious officer, he had to arrange the Seder and prepare for it. All the rabbis came to conduct the Seder at Sarafand. They had to prepare the kitchen for Pesach. He could not leave; he had to be there all day. How do you prepare a kitchen for Pesach? He was a firstborn and had not managed to attend a siyum, so he had to fast all day. And he worked there in the kitchen all day with the soldiers who were helping him. He kashered the kitchen, and then the Seder began and they conducted it. But afterward he needed to eat matzah and drink wine. Now, he would not eat in the army, so he decided to take a full [unclear]. I remember him talking about the difficulties that day—the heat, [unclear]—and he got up carrying twenty or thirty kilos, in his army boots, and decided to walk from Sarafand to Tel Aviv. Back then, the way from Sarafand to Tel Aviv was completely dark, full of [unclear], but he walked. After the Seder there, he walked all the way to Tel Aviv. I was six years old then. They woke me in the early hours of the morning when they saw him coming to the entrance of Sheinkin Street. They woke me up to [unclear]. But he had fasted all day, prepared the kitchen, and walked there on foot. In the early hours of the morning he reached my grandfather’s home at 72 Sheinkin Street, on the corner of Arlozorov. He came up the stairs and then fainted, because all—

28:20 Speaker 1 [unclear]. He got up and went to the Seder, and [unclear] put on the bandage, and that was that. In the morning [unclear], and I asked, “How did you walk all that way with the risk of thrombosis?” He said, “What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t take a taxi.” [Unclear.] But he was still concerned. Another incident: he had until a quarter past nine. [Unclear.] I spoke with his brother. He came home distraught, shouting. He sat at one end of the sofa, with his father—my grandfather—Rabbi Shapira, z"l, the rabbi of Haifa. And my grandfather called out, “Assi!” He was sitting there, my grandmother was there, and he was shouting and shouting. In short, I did not understand what all the shouting was about. I was a child then; they explained to me afterward what had happened. He was in the army, and they notified him—this was around the time before the Six-Day War. At about noon, Central Command informed him that a pit containing bones had been found near an empty house. They would have to go some twelve or thirteen kilometers into Jordanian territory to check it, if the Jordanians gave permission to enter, and determine whether they were Jewish remains. So they looked for the maps relating to Rabbi [unclear]. Anyone familiar with the history of—

30:04 Speaker 4 the convoy—

30:04 Speaker 1 the convoy of Rabbi [unclear], of the people from [unclear], knows why they were afraid these might be their remains. In short, the military rabbi gathered [unclear] from the IDF and drove to [unclear]. They told him he had to go out. There was a jeep belonging to the Legion, [unclear], several UN officers, and two or three IDF soldiers. He saw [unclear] and was to examine the bones. They told him they had to leave by nine o’clock. Everyone at home started shouting. My grandfather shouted, “I’ll go to the rabbi; I’ll ask for another report—what will happen?” “My only son—they’re sending him twelve or thirteen kilometers into Jordanian territory!” In those days there were no arrangements like there are today, [unclear]. But my father said, “An order is an order. If I don’t go, what should I do—send someone else? They’ll have to send another religious officer. How could I do that? There’s no such thing. An order is an order.” His father—I don’t know how to put it, whether this was honoring one’s father or not—but that is what he said. He went, and he came back, and thank G-d everything was all right. They examined the bones and saw that they were not [unclear]. In any case, although this was about a soldier in the army, it showed his character: an order is an order. When it is time to daven, you daven. When it is time to recite Shema, you recite Shema. When it is time to gather in shul, you gather. [Unclear.] He came to my grandfather, and we lived in an apartment on Rashi Street. It had two floors, the upper floor—

32:22 Speaker 1 The third one had two rooms. Later I’ll tell a story from more recently about that apartment. And then it was half. We lived in a two—three-room apartment: one room was [unclear], and two rooms. One room was the living room and also partly a bedroom, and the other was my parents’ bedroom. My room was a balcony at the back, off the bedroom and the living room. Actually, there was an inner courtyard. My mother was cleaning with a broom. She was standing on the balcony when someone started shouting to her, “A—a child is crying! A child down below, a child down below, a child in the courtyard!” So my mother immediately ran to the window and looked down into the street. It was [unclear] in the neighborhood; we hardly knew anyone. That was [unclear].