The Rebbe and My Zaide, His Melamed – Part 4

The Rebbe and My Zaide, His Melamed – Part 4

Welcome to our weekly Mesibas Shabbos program. This is the fourth program, a continuation of the stories of the Rebbe and the melamed. Today I want to mention something I didn't get to finish last week.

I mentioned, I think in the first program, that hardly anything is spoken about the Rebbe's youth. We know that the Rebbe himself writes that he never wrote about his youth, so we only know what he himself said, or maybe what he told other people over the years.

But a few times at a farbrengen the Rebbe did mention a word about his melamed — what his melamed said. He didn't speak much about the melamed, but he told a story of what the melamed had said. Once — I think it was in 1981 — he mentioned that his melamed spoke about the thirty-six hidden tzaddikim, and gave an example of a certain person he knew, that this person could be an example of a nistar.

He mentioned another thing that the Rebbe said — that when they learned Parshas Ha'azinu, when he was seven or eight years old, his melamed always told this story every year when they learned this parsha. So I just want to mention, speaking about the Rebbe's melamed, what this story was.

I'm going to tell a very short story, and I think Rabbi Mindel wrote this down in one of his writings — I don't know whether it was in "Tales and Talks" or not, but he did write it down. The Rebbe said this story was told by his melamed every year when he learned Parshas Ha'azinu.

The Rambam had a student named Abner [also heard as "Aar"] [?]. Abner strayed from the path of Torah. He left his community and became an important official in the government. One time he sent guards to drag the Rambam out of shul and bring him to the palace. Then, in front of the Rambam, his teacher, he slaughtered a pig, roasted it, and ate it on the holiest day — in front of the Rambam. The Rambam couldn't hold back his anger and asked, "What caused you to fall so low? Why did you abandon your heritage?"

Abner answered, "Your teaching completely disillusioned me." He said, "You once taught a very small parsha and said that all the details of Jewish history are contained in this small parsha. How can everything be in this small parsha? And the second thing — you also said that this parsha contains the names of every single Jew. That's ridiculous. How could such a small parsha contain the names of millions of people? That disillusioned me, and I went away."

The Rambam answered that it is absolutely true that in this parsha are the names of every single person. So Abner said to the Rambam, "So tell me my name — where is my name in this parsha?" The Rambam answered that it could be found in the third letter of every word. He said, "The third letter of [this word] is alef. The third letter of 'biso' [?] is beis. The third letter of 'mei' [?] is nun. And the fourth letter of 'zeh' [?] is ayin." What does that spell? [His name] — and the verse says, "I said I would cast them off; I will eliminate their memory from mankind." That's what the Rambam told him.

Abner turned pale. "Is there any hope for me?" he begged. "Is there anything I could do, any teshuvah for my sins?" he asked the Rambam. The Rambam looked at Abner and said, "The verse itself has revoked that possibility. It says Hashem will scatter sinners until their memory is erased. You must leave, never to be heard from again."

Abner boarded a ship and was never seen again.

This is the story the Rebbe said his melamed always told when they learned [Parshas Ha'azinu]. So, since today we're talking about whether they ever mentioned the melamed — this is one of maybe a couple of times; I'll look it up in my notes. But I wanted to mention this.

Now let's continue, if we have time, with what happened last Friday. I came home from yeshiva — I learned on Bedford Avenue — and I came home to my Zaide. My Zaide was sitting on the sofa learning Mishnayos, like always, as I mentioned a few weeks ago, and I saw that his speech was not the same.

I asked, "Zaide, are you feeling well?" He said something I couldn't understand. I said to him, "Zaide, do you want me to help you go to bed?" He motioned like that, and I helped him — I took him to his bed to lie down. I think he started to cry then.

While walking, he was still saying Mishnayos out loud. I put him down; I didn't know what to do — there was nothing [no ambulance service] in those days like today. This happened on a Friday. So I went to my aunt Dina, and we went to Dr. Olivixson [?], who lived near Eastern Parkway, and we told him about my Zaide.

He came right away, came to my Zaide, looked at him, and said he'd had a stroke. He gave him a pill, and I think he wrote a note to give to the Rebbe about his melamed, about the situation. I'm just saying now there's much more to this, but there's no time.

This happened on Friday. After Kabbolas Shabbos, Dr. Olivixson [also heard as "Dr. Zelson"] [?] was standing by the door of the Rebbe's room. When the Rebbe came out after davening, after Shabbos, the Rebbe asked him what was going on with my Zaide. They spoke for ten minutes about my Zaide — I don't know what they discussed. I was standing in the hall; I saw they were speaking, and the doctor didn't want to tell me what was said.

The next morning, Shabbos, I think the Rebbe also wanted to know about my Zaide — I don't remember exactly. But what I want to say is: on Shabbos, half an hour or an hour after [davening], I was standing in the hall near the door with some bochurim. All of a sudden the Rebbe's door opens — the Rebbe was going home to make Havdalah, I guess. The Rebbe opens his door and goes out. He sees me in the hall. He motions to me, calls me over, and turns around. I walked behind the Rebbe to his room.

He opens the door again to his room. The room was pretty dark, apparently, I think, because the Rebbe hadn't made Havdalah yet, so he didn't want to turn on his regular light on Shabbos. He only had a small bulb on in his room — the regular big light was off, since the Rebbe hadn't made Havdalah yet, only the bulb was left on. So it was pretty dark; he didn't want to turn on the big light. By the way, in those days the Rebbe walked home — he didn't go by car.

So anyway, I walked into the room, closed the door, and I was alone in the room with the Rebbe. I was shaking, being alone with the Rebbe in a pretty dark room. The Rebbe opened his drawer — there was paper, there was matzah. He took out one matzah, put it back. Took out another matzah, a half matzah, cut it, put it back. Maybe a minute or two — I don't know exactly what he did; I was standing a little further back, and he was bending over the drawer, working with the matzah.

Then he took out a piece of matzah and gave it to me. He said, "Give it to your grandfather. As you know, on Pesach the first night is the food of emunah, faith; the second night is..." [unclear]. "So give him that." And he stressed it again — I didn't understand why he stressed it twice, but that's what happened.

So I went — first I went up, shut the door, and walked home. I ran across the street to my Zaide. My Zaide was already in a coma. I said — imagine, it was the Rebbe, his melamed, and the Rebbe said the word "Rebbe" — and my Zaide, who was in a coma, not 100%, but he shook.

I said, "The Rebbe said I should give you the matzah — you should eat it." I took a piece of matzah [and tried to give it to him]. The Rebbe had said, "Oh, I forgot to tell you — take the matzah, put it in his mouth, and if it doesn't go in, you should soak it in water. I forgot to tell you that." So I took a piece of matzah and put it in — it didn't go in. Another piece — it didn't go in. So I took the matzah and soaked it in water, and I did manage to get a few pieces into his mouth, but not much. But I did it anyway.

The next day, Sunday, there was a parade [unclear relevance]. Zaide [wanted something] — I have no time to explain. His condition got worse, so we took him to Jewish Hospital — that was the hospital, the same hospital where the Rebbetzin [?] passed away. The Rebbe said he wanted him to have a nurse there in the hospital twenty-four hours a day, and he wanted to pay for it. He wanted to pay for other things too, whatever was needed.

Anyway, it was the hospital — every day he got worse. Exactly a week later, Thursday night, meaning [early] Friday, my Zaide passed away.

They called the Chevra Kadisha, and Rabbi [?] — as I mentioned — said he never saw a face like that upon him. He said... and as I mentioned a few weeks ago, from the time [of passing] until [the burial], this is what we used to say about what a person goes through. Anyway, so on Friday, the Rebbe went in the car with, I think, Rabbi Jacobson, also all of us, and the Rebbe did not go all the way in. I asked later why he didn't go in, and the Rebbe said, "I didn't have the preparation — I didn't have [what was needed] in order to go in there; one has to be prepared in a special way, and I didn't have that today." So he stood by the outer gate, watching the whole time until the end of the levaya — he watched the way, the way they performed the kevurah [burial].

So this is the story. There's much more to it, but I want to shorten it. I want to say one more thing.

My Zaide had a wife whose name was Zelda. She was not my mother's mother — my mother was born from my Zaide's first wife, Zelda. He didn't have children from Zelda. Zelda passed away a year and a half [before/after this], in those days when there was an hour or two set aside for yechidus. Anybody who had a letter [requesting yechidus] for that evening still went in even if it wasn't their designated time. I think it was... I'm not sure. My birthday is also around then, so I went in that night — the day Zelda, the wife of my Zaide, passed away.

So I happened to go in then, and my time slot had already [arrived]. So I went in. The first thing the Rebbe asked me was, "Where was she buried? Was she buried across from my Zaide or not? She wasn't by the women's [section]?" I said, "I don't know." The Rebbe said, "After you leave the room, go ask right away — I need to know where she was buried, whether she was buried across from my Zaide or not." Apparently it's important to be buried across from, or near, your spouse — I'm not sure, but that's what he wanted to know.

Then the Rebbe said we should make a minyan in the house. They had no children, but the Rebbe opened his drawer and wanted to give me a ner neshamah, a memorial candle. He looked and looked and couldn't find one. He said, "When I go [to the office], I should go to Marcus [?] and tell him that I said he should give you a ner [neshamah], and you should use that candle in the house of Zelda." This is what the Rebbe wanted arranged.

One more thing I want to say, and then I'll finish. My uncle, Fatima's [?] son, came to America. I picked him up at the airport with his family, and the first thing he said was that he wanted to see the Rebbe.

So the family was going in for yechidus. I took him into the hall to wait to go in. All of a sudden, while he was standing waiting, his hand started shaking, and I said, "What happened?" He said, "I don't have a beard — how can I show my face in front of the Rebbe without a beard?" He couldn't bear it — he didn't have a beard, because if he had grown one he wouldn't have been able to leave Russia; in those days it was a sakana, a danger, in Russia to have a beard. That's why, of course, he grew a beard right away once he was out. But he couldn't bear the thought of seeing the Rebbe without a beard.

Anyway, going back to my Zaide — that Shabbos the Rebbe mentioned that whoever passes away on Friday has something special, that he goes straight to Gan Eden. I mean, the Rebbe spoke about my Zaide then. I think the Rebbe invited my uncle in for the first time to see him — I'm not sure.

Anyway, so, before we finish — the Rebbe always used to send a telegram; likewise, we should always hear good news. And don't forget — one of the points is that every child should go and listen to the way they read [the Torah/Megillah]. We should have a good Shabbos. Next week we'll continue our weekly program. Thank you.