Chapter 247 - The Return to Judaism of the Man on the Train.

00:01 The chossid on the train continues telling Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak his remarkable story. “On the second day after my arrival, I visited my father and told him, in the strictest confidence, that I had visited your grandfather, the Rebbe Maharash. I told him what he had said to me about—no, I did not tell him what he had said about my personal situation. I did tell him that he wished to see him, meaning my father, as soon as possible. Father answered, ‘There are less than two weeks until Rosh Hashanah. I had intended to travel to Lubavitch on the first day of Selichos, but now I will go a few days earlier, to be in Lubavitch for the Shabbos before Selichos.’ “The two letters,” the chossid Y.M. tells Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak, “the two letters to Professor B. and Mr. Z., opened the gates of the palaces of the powerful before me. Within about three weeks, we completed all our work with success beyond anything we had anticipated, and everything your grandfather had said came to pass. “When I met my father after Rosh Hashanah, I learned that he had traveled to Lubavitch immediately after Shabbos. By the time he arrived, however, your grandfather was ill. Though he spoke with my father twice, briefly, his illness worsened from day to day. My father planned to travel to visit him the day after Yom Kippur. Then came the sorrowful news of your grandfather’s passing. The news reached Petersburg at noon on Tuesday, September fourth, and there was a great stir throughout the Jewish community. Even among the misnagdim, and even among the freethinkers, people mourned the great loss suffered by the Jewish people. We, the members of the Kadima Center, gathered for a meeting and wept over the sorrow of our people. “For about a year, I remained under your grandfather’s spiritual influence. The Kadima Center dispersed, and a center of revolutionary rebels was founded in its place. I did not work at this new center with the same enthusiasm with which I had worked at Kadima, though I contributed and helped them with large sums, as much as I could, in addition to assisting with their work. Gradually I broke away from religious life, until I assimilated among the non-Jews and acted as they did. The twenty-seventh of December is my

03:12 birthday, and every year I celebrate it with my friends and acquaintances, with a banquet at one of Petersburg’s renowned restaurants. My wife passed away about five years ago. My circle of friends grew, my wealth increased, and I resolved to celebrate my birthday at one of the resorts abroad. I invite a group of my acquaintances, and we travel together and enjoy ourselves. “This year I decided to go to Monte Carlo, then to Nice for a few days, and from there to Paris. My friends approved of my decision, and we traveled to Monte Carlo, Nice, and Paris, spending several days together. My friends left, while I stayed a few more days in Paris. The night before last, I boarded this train to return home to Petersburg. Yesterday, as I sat in the dining car, I looked up and saw you. At that moment, your grandfather’s holy face appeared to me just as I had seen it the last time, and I remembered his words: ‘Throw a stick into the air, and it lands on its root.’ This year I turned fifty-five. All evening and all night, your grandfather’s words rang in my ears: ‘How long can a man wander—fifty, fifty-five years? Raging passions and desires must have a limit. Remember who you are, and do not forget the stock you come from.’ I did not sleep a wink. Today I am fasting; no food has passed my lips. And I am questioning the way I have lived until now.” He wept aloud, and it took considerable effort to calm him. Since he was fasting and the time for Maariv had already arrived, I urged him to go and eat something, but he refused and continued his story. Y.M.’s story lasted about three hours, with short breaks. Before we parted, he said to me, “Surely you will lend me your tefillin tomorrow as well. When I get home, I will obtain tefillin that day and change my ways. I will be a faithful Jew and fulfill your grandfather’s instructions: to remember that I am a Jew and to know where I come from.”

06:23 As he spoke these words, I could see that deep emotion had overcome him. We parted with great affection. For a long time after he left me, I remained under the impression his story had made on me. For close to thirty years, from 5642 to 5672, the G-dly fire in my grandfather’s holy words had lain hidden within him, concealed deep in the innermost point of his heart, while he clung to the refuse heaps of desire and craving. But in the end, the Cause of all causes arranged the circumstances through which the G-dly fire in the words of tzaddikim—words that live and endure forever—would blaze forth in a holy flame, bringing him back to Hashem from deep within his heart. How wondrous are the ways of Divine providence: Hashem creates and arranges circumstances to support those who have fallen and extend a hand to transgressors, showing them the path they should take. As it says, “Hashem is good and upright; therefore He guides sinners on the path.” The Midrash Shocher Tov asks: Why is He good? Because He is upright. And why is He upright? Because He is good. How abundant is Your kindness, Hashem! Yesterday he sat before a pot of non-kosher meat and delighted in bottles of forbidden wine; today he is fasting, afflicting himself, returning to Hashem, and hoping that from now on he will change his ways and live as a faithful Jew. The Frierdiker Rebbe continues in his diary: “At five o’clock, Mr. Y.M. telephoned me”—that is, the same Y.M., some time later, about a year afterward—“but I was not in my room, and he asked me to call him when I returned. I called twice, but he was not at home.” The diary continues: “Moscow, Thursday, 13 Shvat 5672. At eleven o’clock I arrived at the Bolshoy Sibirsky Hotel, room seventy-four. Yesterday at nine-thirty in the evening, I telephoned Mr. Y.M. He was very glad that I had honored his request to call. He told me that yesterday he had purchased tefillin and a tallis, as well as a siddur, Chumash, and Tehillim, and that he was putting his hopes into practice. He wanted to talk longer, but I told him that I had to leave for Moscow

09:26 on the train departing at eleven that night, and still had much work to do.” The diary continues: “Kissingen, Tuesday, 23 Menachem Av 5672. Today I met Mr. Y.M. for the first time since we parted about six months ago in Petersburg. We greeted one another with great joy and agreed to meet this evening or tomorrow morning. “Kissingen, Thursday, 25 Menachem Av 5672. Yesterday, Wednesday, the Rebbe of Stolin, shlita, came to see me at one o’clock, and at four o’clock I visited the Rebbe of Alexander, shlita. I therefore could not meet with Mr. Y.M. until today. I completed all my prescribed treatments early today, and from two in the afternoon until eight in the evening we walked together. With a glad heart I listened to everything he told me. This is the substance of his story: “When he reached Petersburg at that time, he could no longer bear the company of his friends, so he decided to travel to Menton for a few weeks. He spent Pesach in Frankfurt am Main, and afterward about a month at home in Petersburg. But his friends sensed that he had undergone an inner transformation. Later he went to a summer residence, and about two weeks ago he came here to Kissingen. From here he will travel home. He intends to spend the coming month of Tishrei in Frankfurt am Main or Amsterdam.” The diary continues: “Moscow, Thursday, 14 Teves 5675”—that is, three years later. “Today, while walking on Nikolsky Street, I met Mr. Y.M. He was very glad to see me, and I too was pleased to see him. He told me how things were going with him: his business is succeeding, and he intends to move abroad. He has not yet decided where, but it will be a place where he can live a religious life without interference.” And the diary continues: “Rostov-on-Don, Tuesday, 22 Tammuz 5678”—another three years later. “Today Mr. Z., who has just arrived from Petersburg, told me that the manager of the Sibirsky Bank, Mr. S., had told him”

12:19 Mr. Y.M. settled in Amsterdam and managed to transfer all his wealth there—cash, notes, and his considerable holdings in gold and precious stones. The diary continues: Berlin, Wednesday, 6 Kislev 5688, another ten years later. Kaiserhof Hotel, room 472. Today, while I was sitting in the hotel corridor with my son-in-law, Rashag, may he live and be well, an elderly man called out to me and greeted me with great joy. He was surprised that I did not recognize him. I looked at him but could not place him. “Don’t you remember,” he said to me, “that we traveled together from Paris to Petersburg?” In an instant, the whole scene passed before my eyes. “I can offer,” I told him, “the same excuse as Joseph’s brothers, who did not recognize Joseph.” “Yes,” he told me, “but apart from the beard, the rest of the way I live also accords with what the tzaddik instructed.” He told me what had happened to him: he had settled in Amsterdam and was living a peaceful religious life without interference. The diary continues: New York, Wednesday, 17 Marcheshvan 5690. That is, during the Frierdiker Rebbe’s well-known trip to the United States, about ten years before World War II. Today, the Frierdiker Rebbe relates, Mr. H.K. of Amsterdam visited me. In the course of our conversation, he told me that several of our acquaintances from Petersburg had settled in Amsterdam. He spoke at length in praise of Mr. Y.M., describing how generously he gave tzedakah and supported Torah scholars. He lives a happy, peaceful life on the large estate he bought. He also established a synagogue there, where many minyanim gather each day. He himself comes to daven every morning, and quite often for Minchah and Maariv as well. He listens to the classes between Minchah and Maariv and after Maariv. The diary continues: Warsaw, Thursday, 17 Teves 5694—that is, 1934. Today I heard from Mr. L.L. that Mr. Y.M. is in poor health in Amsterdam. He comes to the synagogue only on Shabbos, but his home is wide open to Torah scholars. “Could I have believed,” Mr. L.L. told me, “that Y.M. would change so

15:30 much? I remember that in our home, people did not want to mention his name because of his wicked deeds. And today one can call him a tzaddik?” The diary continues: Marienbad, Thursday, 7 Elul 5695. Today I heard, the Frierdiker Rebbe relates, that Y.M. passed away this past month of Sivan after a prolonged illness. May his soul be bound in the bond of life.