Chapter 245 - The Meeting Between the Man and Rabbi Yosef Yitzchok on the Train.

00:01 The man on the train, the chossid from the M. family who had left the path of Judaism, continued telling the Frierdiker Rebbe: “Chassidim have a special quality: they love their friends regardless of status or circumstances—poor or rich, old or young. This quality places them on a uniquely lofty, even exalted, level. More than once, we young freethinkers said among ourselves that we ought to learn how to love our friends from the chassidim. That meeting at the Serpinsky Hotel made an enormous impression on me. I felt a pleasant warmth that I cannot put into words. I was still standing there, lost in memories of days gone by, when the voices saying ‘Blessed be Hashem Who is blessed forever and ever’ suddenly startled me. At first I did not know what it was, but then I remembered that they had begun davening Maariv. The Rebbe, your grandfather, came out of his room and said the final Kaddish after Aleinu, for that day was the yahrzeit of the Alter Rebbe, the author of Tanya. For about three days, I could not calm the emotions stirred by meeting people I had known in my youth and childhood, and especially by hearing your grandfather say Kaddish, which reminded me of my days in Lubavitch. On January 4, we young members of Kadima learned that the minister of the interior had hinted to the governors of Kiev and Chernigov, and others, that they should carry out pogroms against the Jews. We knew that your grandfather had come to Petersburg on communal matters, particularly the pogroms against Jews that had begun in the southern cities and the anti-Jewish incitement that was then spreading. We also knew that he had considerable influence in government circles, and that he chose to speak plainly and demand, with great force, protection for the Jewish citizens of the country. We decided to send several of our members to tell your grandfather what we had learned. Still, we knew that your grandfather was a moderate man who did not like the young freethinkers—perhaps even hated them. It was quite possible, indeed likely, that he would not even want to listen to us, especially since he would demand that we tell him where the information came from and provide conclusive proof. Since I was one of the leaders of the group, in charge of matters concerning

03:16 Jewish circles, another member and I were chosen to visit your grandfather and tell him what we had learned. When we arrived at the Serpinsky Hotel, we could not think of a way to get in to see him. We could not state the purpose of our visit, yet we knew that if we said nothing, we would not be let in. Hearing that your grandfather went out for a walk every morning at nine-thirty, we decided to wait in the corridor and hand him a note as he passed, saying that we had an urgent communal matter to discuss and asking him to set a time for us. The next day we came to the hotel at nine, as planned, but to our disappointment we learned that your grandfather would not be going for a walk that day. He had an appointment at eleven with two high-ranking officials from the ministry of the interior. We were glad to hear it: if we could tell your grandfather what we knew beforehand, he could make use of it when speaking to the two officials. But we still could not think how to get in to see him. As we stood there at a loss, the door opened and your grandfather came out of his room accompanied by the well-known wealthy chossid N.H. They walked back and forth along the hotel corridor, while my friend and I stood at a distance in a corner. After a short while, your grandfather looked up and saw me. Though he had not seen me for about eight years—and needless to say, I had changed greatly in that time—he recognized me at once. He asked how I was and whether I still remembered the maamar of Chassidus I had heard back then in Lubavitch. My heart sank, and I was so shaken that I could not utter a word. Seeing my distress, my friend said, ‘We have something urgent to discuss with you, Rebbe.’ Your grandfather went back to his room and told the chossid N.H. to say that we could come in. I will never forget the deep look your grandfather gave us. A look like that can never be forgotten. From that morning on, my friend and I helped your grandfather in his efforts to quell the

06:06 anti-Jewish incitement that had begun spreading widely among government ministers and officials. I have a great deal to tell about what your grandfather did and accomplished in Petersburg then. Through his considerable influence, he prevented several decrees during the month or so he spent there. One day, while I was with your grandfather, he suddenly turned to me and asked, ‘How long has it been since you put on tefillin? Perhaps you’ll say someone told me, or perhaps you’ll want to lie to me? I can tell you everything you did, and when and where you did it.’ While I stood there wondering what to answer, he began recounting, one by one, the things that had happened to me and the stages of my decline, through which I had fallen away from a religious Jewish way of life. I stood rooted to the spot. My head was spinning, my heart tightened, and tears streamed from my eyes. For several days I was too ashamed and embarrassed to visit your grandfather. Then one day I received a note from the chossid N.H. saying that your grandfather had asked about me several times. I came to see him, and he entrusted me with various missions on behalf of the community. Your grandfather’s words had made such a powerful impression on me that the next morning I obtained a pair of tefillin—I had left my own behind when I left my father’s house—and, secretly, without my family or friends knowing, I began putting on tefillin and davening. Nothing but bread passed my lips. For an entire week I made various excuses, saying that I was ill and therefore could not eat, until I had to tell my wife that I had resolved not to eat non-kosher meat. With difficulty, I managed to arrange kosher food and, to some extent, to observe other aspects of Jewish life as well. Your grandfather left Petersburg and returned home to Lubavitch, and I began settling into a more religious way of life. I still had not visited my father, nor did he know that I had changed my ways. In the middle of April, my wife, my eldest son and I went to stay at a summer home near Petersburg. A few days later, my father came to visit me. It startled me greatly, and I could not understand why he had come. How astonished

09:10 I was to see my father hold out a letter from your grandfather addressed to him! It invited him to the wedding of one of your grandfather’s sons, and at the end of the letter he sent me his regards and invited me, too, to share in his joy. ‘Did you have to go to the trouble of coming yourself?’ I asked my father. ‘You could have sent the letter with one of the employees of your business.’ ‘A mission like this,’ my father replied, ‘written in a letter from the Rebbe—we chassidim do not send servants to carry it out. It must be fulfilled promptly and at precisely the right time. I do not know,’ my father said, ‘why, or for what good deeds, you merited that the Rebbe should send you his regards and ask you to share in his joy. But since the Rebbe wrote to you, who can second-guess the king? When I received the letter today, I carried out the mission immediately, without delay. And now, goodbye.’ He wanted to return home, but my wife and I persuaded him to stay with us for a few hours and have a hot drink, and we went for a walk in the woods. My father told me about the Rebbe’s son who was getting married and about his virtues. As we talked, I told my father bits and pieces of what I had heard your grandfather say during my visits to him in Petersburg the previous winter: how firm he was in his convictions, how fearless his heart, and how plainly he spoke to high-ranking ministers in demanding justice and fairness. We spent about three hours talking. Suddenly we heard someone call, ‘Shalom aleichem!’ We saw the chossid Z.R. coming toward us. He warmly asked my father how he was, greeted me with a beaming face, and recited the Shehecheyanu blessing, ‘Who has granted us life ... and brought us to this time.’ My father and I looked at each other in astonishment, unable to understand why the chossid Z.R. had recited Shehecheyanu. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ said Z.R. ‘The Alter Rebbe states explicitly in Seder Birchos Hanehenin that whenever something happens that brings joy to a person’s heart, he should recite Shehecheyanu with Hashem’s Name and kingship. When I saw you, my dear Leibele, walking with your son Yehud with the love and affection that there ought to be—and

11:53 I also heard from Avraham the butcher that for about half a year now he has bought meat only from him—I was so happy to see him that I recited Shehecheyanu.’ The three of us walked silently for a little while, until Z.R. broke the silence and said that many chassidim were preparing to travel to Lubavitch for the wedding celebration. We kept walking until we reached my home. My wife prepared an evening meal. My father still wanted to return to the city, but Z.R. urged him to stay, eat bread and join us for the meal. We ate and enjoyed ourselves, and from then on, peace was restored between my father and me.