Rabbi Moshe Dikshtein - Be'er Sheva - Part 4

00:20 Speaker 1 Moishe, we’re starting another conversation, and this time, following on from our last conversation, I want to say a few words about Michoel Lipsker, the one who welcomed you so warmly in the dining room and also equipped you with a pillow and blanket. Michoel Lipsker was a shliach of the Rebbe shlita, Melech HaMoshiach, in Morocco for many years.

00:47 Speaker 2 He was the Rebbe’s first shliach.

00:49 Speaker 1 The first shliach? I didn’t know that. All right. And he established a yeshiva in Meknes, in the city of Meknes in Morocco. The Maman family—my wife’s parents—were there too, and they were very, very close to him. They helped him with a great many things. He would send students to eat at their home. Michoel Lipsker is a central figure in our family.

01:12 Speaker 2 And not only that—the students loved him so much. They revered him. As you’re speaking, I’m remembering something here in Beersheba. It was thirty, fifty years ago—forty years ago, roughly. Here in Beersheba, Rabbi [unclear] had been his student at the age of three, four, five. He taught him the alef-beis. Once we happened to be talking about something, and in the course of it he told me that he’d studied in Meknes with Reb Michoel. So I told him that Reb Michoel had passed away—may his merit protect us. “What?” The man stood up, took a knife, and tore his garment in mourning.

01:57 Speaker 1 Amazing.

01:58 Speaker 2 That’s how revered he was, how loved he was by his students.

02:03 Speaker 1 He was a very warmhearted person, very warmhearted. Moishe, go on with this wonderful story. You’ve already settled in a little at 770.

02:16 Speaker 2 Yes. I started learning in the yeshiva, found a chavrusa, and we learned. I got into the routine of learning. Seeing the Rebbe, of course, every day at Mincha and Maariv—it was exciting; you really lived it. Then came the first farbrengen, on 18 Elul. A farbrengen is a gathering of chassidim. Chassidim came from all over New York, and probably from abroad too. Some seven or eight thousand people sat in the hall downstairs, in the large zal, with tiered platforms on every side, and tables, and people standing. There was a tiered platform on the south side, one on the north side, one on the west side—and the Rebbe sat and spoke, delivering sichos. All the books of the Lubavitcher Rebbe that we know—Likkutei Sichos, the maamarim—all of that comes from the farbrengens. Apart from letters, including some he wrote himself, all the Rebbe’s teachings, everything we know of them, are what the Rebbe said at farbrengens. And now came the first farbrengen I had the privilege of attending with the Rebbe. I found myself a place, but wherever I stood, someone would say, “Hey, young man, listen, that’s my place. You can’t stand here.” I was starting to turn white. What was going on? I learned that people had regular spots; everyone had his place. I managed to get about half a spot on a bench, half standing, something like that. I stood there, and the Rebbe came in. He walked in [unclear] and began speaking right away. Suddenly the Rebbe spoke about the guests. The Rebbe asked, “Where is Zimroni? Where is Zimroni? Does he have a place here? There are still thousands of people over there.” Zimroni was the one who had brought me to Chabad. Where was Zimroni?

04:48 Speaker 3 Oh, Zimroni brought you to Chabad? And now the Rebbe was asking where Zimroni was.

04:53 Speaker 2 He was asking where he was. And to me, Zimroni was like the person who’d brought me into the world. I looked around—no, no. I saw that Zimroni had arrived just then; he’d caught the farbrengen. He was standing with his cup held up before the Rebbe, and the Rebbe said to him, “L’chaim, l’chaim and blessing.” He drank, while I wasn’t there in front of the Rebbe. After the farbrengen I hugged and kissed him. I was fulfilling a dream of mine. That was the farbrengen. Now, the Rebbe spoke in Yiddish throughout the farbrengen. Yiddish. My parents spoke Yiddish at home so the children wouldn’t understand. When I was in Kfar Chabad, Rabbi Mendel pressed me to learn Yiddish. And how did I learn Yiddish? There’s Likkutei Sichos, and there’s Likkutei Dibburim by the previous Rebbe—a book called Likkutei Dibburim, written in Yiddish. It’s very, very literary Yiddish, very difficult. He arranged a chavrusa for me to learn Yiddish with. And who was this chavrusa? Menachem Lissim, a Yemenite Jew.

06:10 Speaker 3 Who?

06:12 Speaker 2 Yes, Menachem Lissim from Kfar Saba, z”l. We sat together and he taught me Yiddish. The Yiddish in Likkutei Dibburim is very difficult, but the Yiddish of Likkutei Sichos, of the Rebbe’s sichos, is spoken Yiddish, easier Yiddish. So we sat and learned both, and that’s how I slowly learned Yiddish. I took it on as a project, the way you study for an English matriculation exam: you learn with a notebook, vocabulary words, and so on. I learned Yiddish—but for my English matriculation exam, I’d studied just to get the minimum passing grade of sixty. Here I was learning Yiddish so I could know what the Rebbe was saying, so I could read the literature and the sichos. I understood Yiddish, but seeing the Rebbe, listening to the sicha, understanding it, and translating the words for myself all at once—that was too much. When we were in Kfar Chabad, at the farbrengens, as I told you last time, Meir Brusov [?] would write things down and translate for us. But here I had to understand for myself. In short, it took me a long time to get used to listening, translating, and understanding what the Rebbe was saying. That was the farbrengen. Afterward, I joined in the farbrengen too. In short, it was happiness—tremendous, tremendous happiness. The days went by, and Erev Rosh Hashanah arrived. On Erev Rosh Hashanah, the Chabad custom, the Lubavitch custom by the Rebbe, is for everyone to write a pan. Pan stands for pidyon nefesh. You write to ask the Rebbe for a blessing, to ask the Rebbe to pray for you before Hakadosh Boruch Hu. I mean, “You are children of Hashem your G-d”—we are all children of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. But there’s someone who has a special connection, like Moshe Rabbeinu—Moshe Rabbeinu and Hakadosh Boruch Hu are friends. Moshe Rabbeinu says, “Wait,

08:33 Speaker 2 “and I will hear what He says”—wait a moment, I’ll hear what Hakadosh Boruch Hu says and then tell you. So you write to the Rebbe, ask him for a blessing, and pass one by one by the Rebbe’s room. You give the Rebbe the letter, the envelope, and receive his blessing for a good and sweet year. I went past him, and now this was a personal meeting. It wasn’t just standing there; it was a personal meeting with the Rebbe, eye to eye. I was trembling all over, and of course I’d prepared myself inwardly, with Tehillim and so on. The Rebbe looked at me, took the letter from me, and again there was that smile. I thought to myself, how good I must be that the Rebbe is smiling at me. On the other hand, how lacking I must be that he needs to smile at me. That was it. Afterward we all went to the Ohel, to the previous Rebbe’s resting place. There too we prayed and asked that the previous Rebbe go before Hakadosh Boruch Hu and intercede for us, that we be blessed with a good and sweet year. Rosh Hashanah. Now, in the shul on Rosh Hashanah there are two focal points. One is where the Rebbe stands and davens, and the other is where the Rebbe reads the haftorah and blows the shofar. Between the two is, I don’t know, seventy or eighty meters—less? I don’t know. But it’s packed, packed, packed with people. If you’re in one spot, there’s no chance you’ll reach the other. If you’re in the other spot, there’s no chance you’ll reach the first. But yours truly wanted to be in both places. So the custom at 770 on Rosh Hashanah is that on the first day you arrive at five-thirty or six in the morning and claim a place near the bimah where they blow the shofar, which is also the bimah where the Rebbe says the haftorah. Then everyone goes about his own business—his Tehillim, his learning, his preparations

11:09 Speaker 2 His. And then, just before the haftarah reading, everyone gathers, and each person remembers more or less where he stood, and that’s how it works... But here’s the thing: some of the bochurim don’t have to come early, because they’ve had a regular place for years. How was I supposed to know that? I didn’t know. So everyone comes at five. I got there at four. I stood right by the bimah, first in line beside it. But then I thought: the bimah is high, and if I’m right at the front, I won’t see anything. So I told myself, people will come and push, and I’ll get pushed back into the second or third row. I’ll still be close, and I’ll be able to hear and see. But I have to hold on to that front spot so no one takes it. That was it. Everyone was watching everyone else. You’re standing here, you’re standing there, I’m watching him, he’s watching... Good, fine. There were five of us standing in our places around it. All five of us were there for the first time. None of us knew how it really worked. The davening began. We davened there, really, really close to the Rebbe. Then, around the middle of chazaras hashatz at Shacharis, I started moving toward the bimah for the shofar blowing. I pushed my way through and got there. I stood right at the front, exactly where I’d been standing, and I saw my friend on my right and my friend on my left. Fine. We were in place; we knew one another. Good. Then came the Torah reading. After the Torah reading, the pressure became tremendous. All the animals, all the tigers, all the elephants, all the sheep started arriving. Pushing everywhere. I’m standing there, and someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around and see this big bochur, about...

13:23 Speaker 4 As big as me.

13:23 Speaker 2 What? Very heavy. And he says to me, “Bochur, you’re standing in my place.” So I tell him, “It used to be your place. I’ve been here since five in the morning. Ask him, and ask him.” He says, “You may have been here since five in the morning, but I’ve stood in this very spot for ten years.” So I answer, “In the eleventh year, I’m standing here.” Then they announce, “May our master, teacher and Rebbe, son of Rabbi Levi Yitzchak, rise for the haftarah.” The Rebbe recites the haftarah. Shemaryah, you have no idea what it was like. You hear the Rebbe reciting “And Chana said,” the whole story of Chana, how she prayed, and her children. You have no idea. You can’t imagine it. After everything I’d heard, all the stories I’d heard about the Rebbe reading the Rosh Hashanah haftarah, you still can’t describe what you hear. “Why do you weep...” It’s impossible. It really is. It’s... And in my heart I was already thinking, I’ve gotten what I came for. I don’t need anything else. The effort, the privilege, all of it—I’d gained it. Everything was already worthwhile. That was it. The haftarah ended, and then they placed all the panim the Rebbe had received on Erev Rosh Hashanah on the bimah. Bundles of papers, bundle after bundle, sacks, mountains of paper sacks. The Rebbe stood there with the shofars and drew his tallis over the panim, over all the letters people had given him on Erev Rosh Hashanah, and began: “For You hear [unclear] and the sound of mercy.” The Rebbe said it word by word. And suddenly you heard crying from beneath the tallis. The Rebbe was crying. You could hear the Rebbe crying. Who wouldn’t... Even now,

15:40 Speaker 2 remembering it, I feel like crying. To hear the Rebbe crying, crying for us, crying that we should have a good year. The Rebbe is crying, asking Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Silence, absolute silence. Thousands and thousands of people. You could hear a fly. Then the Rebbe lifted the tallis and began the verses. After that he said the bracha and blew the shofar. Listen, the sound of the Rebbe’s shofar—in that utter stillness. Really... Those shofar blasts, you felt—

16:33 Speaker 5 Sweet.

16:34 Speaker 2 You felt the Rebbe fighting, fighting for you. The Rebbe was fighting and fighting for you, so that Hakadosh Boruch Hu would bless us with a good year. I just want to point out: during the shofar blowing, there was no pushing. Everyone stood still, not moving. It was like... like a washing machine running, and suddenly the power goes out. Then came the second set of blasts and the third. They returned the Torah scroll to the aron kodesh. The Rebbe went back toward the Torah scroll, and then came a moment even more intense than Yom Kippur. In the Chabad customs, it says that after the shofar blowing, the one who blows it looks out at the whole congregation. The Rebbe went up to his place and turned around—a full 180 degrees—and looked at the entire congregation after the shofar blowing. And you’re struggling with yourself to catch the Rebbe’s gaze, to meet his eyes with yours, even for a thousandth of a second, a millionth of a second, so that the Rebbe will see you. Then came Musaf; someone else blew the shofar by then. In the middle of Musaf I lost my shoes. I was standing there in my socks. In all the heat and pushing, my shoes were gone. Then came Birchas Kohanim. The Rebbe left his place, and the Kohanim—all of them, dozens of Kohanim—came to the front of the shul to give the blessing. Without shoes, I couldn’t push my way through. So I climbed onto the bimah where the Torah is read and told myself, Good, this is a good spot. Why? Because now I can see the Rebbe from above, standing down there during Birchas Kohanim. That was my experience, and it still wasn’t over. The davening ended, and I started walking to the yeshivah to eat the Yom Tov meal. Suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and saw that big man I’d danced with before the shofar blowing.