Weekly Chasidic Story #769 (s5772-48 / 2 Elul 5772)

"To Him Shall You Hearken...And It Will Go Well For You"

The four brothers came to say Kaddish for their father, then confided in me that they had a fifth brother who the doctors estimated had 6-8 months left to live.

Connection: Weekly reading - verses 18:15 and 19:13 play a significant role in the story.

"To Him Shall You Hearken...And It Will Go Well For You"

[Story #770 has to be about the Lubavitcher Rebbe, right! - y.t.]

RABBI Zalman Shmuckler, one of the emissaries of the Lubavitcher Rebbe in California, relates this story from more than twenty years ago:

Thousands of Jewish Iranian immigrants currently live in California, and one of their traditional customs - whether they buy a new house or car, or plan a simchah; or on the less positive side, for an unpleasant event or bad dream - is to slaughter a chicken to ward off the evil eye.

In my professional life I'm a shochet, a ritual slaughterer. One day I get a phone call from an Iranian immigrant family in Beverly Hills telling me they've been having a lot of bad dreams lately. "You're a shochet" - they tell me - "Can you come to our house and slaughter a chicken?"

The first thing I noticed when I reached their home was the absence of mezuzos. I immediately explained to them why a house needs mezuzos in every doorway, plus the special power a mezuzah possesses to protect all the house's residents. Afterwards I slaughtered the chicken, and left in a hurry to acquire for them mezuzos. They paid me on the spot, and we attached them to all the doorways.

A YEAR passed. One day the phone rings and it's the same family - with a new request: Their father passed away a year ago, and with the yahrzeit date approaching, they would like to say Kaddish. But, since they only know the non-Jewish date, could I find out the proper day?

When I checked out the correct Jewish date, the yahrzeit turned out to have been a few weeks earlier. I told them that unfortunately the date had passed, but nonetheless they should come the following Sunday to Chabad of Los Angeles' Ohr Elchanan Yeshiva. There, I said, they could learn Mishna, give tzedakah, and say Kaddish.

Accordingly, that Sunday four brothers showed up, and we did everything mentioned above. Just before Kaddish one of them, his eyes brimming with tears, confides in me that they have a fifth brother - critically ill - who, the doctors estimate, has six to eight months left to live. "Would I pray for him?" they ask.

"Listen," I tell them, "I've got a better idea: Why don't you write a letter to the Lubavitcher Rebbe, in Brooklyn?" And I do my best to explain who the Rebbe is.

Meanwhile, at their request I paid a visit to their 26-year-old brother. He looked emaciated; his body trembled, as though...G-d forbid. Family members took turns for his around-the-clock bedside supervision. This followed his repeated suicide attempts by taking overdoses of his medications.

He was suffering from a malignant disease known to be contagious; I was nervous about getting too close to him. A shadow passed quickly through my mind that his condition was - G-d forbid - hopeless. I composed myself. "Please, you should write to the Rebbe," I encouraged them again.

They wrote to the Rebbe, but didn't receive an answer. A second time. No answer. Yet, knowing at least that they had written to a tzaddik, the young man no longer tried to kill himself.

"Why doesn't the Rebbe reply to us?!" they asked. It was half-question, half-complaint.

"To receive an answer from the Rebbe," I told them, "you need a special merit. To get a blessing you need to do things - go to shul, put on tefillin, or other mitzvot." My words had an effect: besides Shabbos, they now started attending Rabbi Naftali Estulin's shul on weekdays.

TWO WEEKS went by. On Shabbos Parshas Shoftim, they decided suddenly to bring their brother to shul. He was holding a cup of water in his hand. Dangerously dehydrated by his illness, he had to take a sip every few minutes.

As soon as I saw them enter, I asked the gabbai to call him for an aliyah to the Torah. An aliyah bestows an uplifting in all realms of one's life, and that's what this poor man sorely needed.

He was called up fifth, and afterwards I spoke to one of his brothers. "You know," I said, "everything happens through Divine Providence. Now every Shabbos we read the Torah, but this week's reading, Parshas Shoftim, comes only once a year. And since your brother received the fifth aliyah, there must be a unique message there for him."

I pointed to the words in its opening verses: The L-rd your G-d will raise up from the midst of your brethren a prophet like me; to him shall you hearken [Deut 18:15]; and to the conclusion of the aliyah's final verse, ...and it will go well for you [Deut 19:13]. Then I said: "The phrase, The L-rd your G-d will raise up from the midst of your brethren a prophet like me, in this case refers to the Rebbe. It's appropriate that you make a trip to the Rebbe, because then the closing phrase, and it will go well for you, will be fulfilled." I spoke every word straight from the heart.

The brothers and their mother caught the first available plane after Shabbos. I had other commitments, and called my son-in-law Rabbi Zalman Shanovitz to ask if he would accompany them that Sunday morning to the line for "dollars" [receiving a dollar bill from the Rebbe to give to tzedaka, and his blessing as well -ed.]. Everything worked out, and the next day they received the Rebbe's blessings (and presented the Rebbe with a ten thousand dollar check!) before heading home.

I should mention here that before their flight, I had told them that the Rebbe's gaze upon an ailing person - even if just for a solitary moment - brings healing. It was natural, then, they returned home filled with trust that recovery was on the way. At the first opportunity they consulted a physician to have him confirm that the illness had vanished. When soon afterwards, their doctor reported that blood tests indicated the illness' continued presence, my phone rang again.

"How could you lie to us like that?!" they complained. They were deeply hurt, and even suggested that perhaps I had some shady business deal with the Rebbe! (By the way, the Rebbe never cashed the check: neither then, nor later.)

I did my best to calm them, and explained that there are two types of miracles: those enclothed in nature, and those transcending nature. To merit a miracle above nature, we have to go beyond our natural limitations - like Nachshon ben Aminadav, for example, who plunged into the sea, and catalyzed its wondrous separation. "Don't despair," I told them, "the Rebbe will do whatever he has to do to restore your brother's health with G-d's help. For the while, let him continue his medications and whatever else is normally required."

They responded, "Time was running out," and I should do everything possible to speed up the recovery. I answered that the year was drawing to a close, and I customarily go to the Rebbe for Hoshana Rabba [three weeks after Rosh HaShana] when he distributes lekach/honey cake. When the Rebbe gives his blessing along with physical cake, things happen rapidly. Then I recounted some of the many miracles that accompanied the lekach distribution, and ended with a suggestion: "Come with me."

And that's what happened. When we approached the Rebbe on Hoshana Rabba, he gave them blessings overflowing with encouragement. "What do you think of the Rebbe's berachos?" I asked them later.

"Our requests weren't satisfied at all," they replied. The Rebbe hadn't told them explicitly that the illness would pass, and now they were asking me: "Go back and request that the Rebbe say categorically that the illness will pass, and our brother will recuperate."

"Look," I replied, "I'm hardly prepared to give the Rebbe instructions what to say. If I knew what he was supposed to say, then I'd be a rebbe, too!" In any case, it's not customary to go a second time for lekach, I told them. Instead, they should approach the Rebbe on the night after Simchas Torah, when he gives out "kos shel beracha"--small paper cups of wine poured from the silver cup he used for havdala. While the Rebbe is pouring their wine, they can express their feelings, and - G-d willing - the Rebbe will give his blessing.

After Yom-Tov ended, I stood in line with them for kos shel beracha, and I could hear them ask for a blessing for "proper blood." The Rebbe replied that the patient should eat a kosher diet, and the family accepted. As they continued past the Rebbe, he called to them: "Consult a physician, and make certain that the patient's - as well as your own - food and drink are kosher, in accordance with the Shulchan Aruch ["Code of Jewish Law"]. And," he added, "Report back to me with good news!" This was no ordinary blessing; it was a factual statement: with G-d's help, matters would definitely succeed.

"You should know," I told them "you didn't receive just a blessing. The Rebbe's instructions to eat kosher are like a doctor's prescription. The difference is: whereas a beracha you must be worthy to receive; a medical prescription works automatically - you take the medicine, and you get better. The Rebbe's "prescription" for you is: eat kosher, and you'll have good health."

I immediately asked California-based Rabbis Reichik and Frankel to pay a visit to the family and kasher their kitchen, and within a short time it was kosher - and replete with kosher meat, supervised dairy products, and Jewish baked goods.

Three months later, their brother's weight had increased slightly, and he was feeling a little better. But then it hit me: without keeping Shabbos, how could they fully observe kashrus? If they were cooking on Shabbos, the food might be kosher; but it was prepared through Shabbos desecration! Now it was a new challenge: how could I strengthen their Shabbos observance?

TWO WEEKS later they called to tell me that their carpet business had a surplus, and they'd like to donate some stock, worth thirty thousand dollars. I put them in touch with the yeshiva, which could certainly benefit from this windfall.

The yeshiva sent a truck to pick up the goods, and I came along to make sure everything went OK. When I reached their home (where their business was located) I saw that their brother's condition had taken a turn for the worst.

"What happened?" I asked.

"It's a side-effect from the medicine."

I saw my opening. "I don't think it's a side-effect from the medicine," I said. "The Rebbe's instructions about kashrus aren't being carried out fully."

And I shared my earlier thoughts about Shabbos-observance with him.

"And what does full Shabbos observance require?" he asked earnestly.

I spell out all of the prohibitions, and he says, "If it means being in prison for 24 hours, then forget it! You know, I'm still young; I've got friends - what's wrong with having some fun?! The one day of the week I let loose with my friends is Shabbos. How can I give that up?"

Given his response, I switched tracks to find another solution. Then it dawned on me: since his mother did all the cooking, she was the obvious one to talk to. Devoted to her son's well-being, for sure she'd agree to observe Shabbos and stop cooking then. And it worked! His mother began keeping Shabbos.

Some more time passed and one of the brothers called me with good news: the doctor announced that their brother had completely recovered. Free of any medication, he jumped enthusiastically into business, investing successfully and reaping million-dollar profits.

THIS state of affairs continued three years, during which we tried all manner of encouragement to help him grow Jewishly. But whether it was tefillin or anything else, his response invariably was: "I needn't be more observant than the Rebbe - if the Rebbe said 'kashrus,' then that's plenty for me."

Meanwhile, the household had visibly changed. From the time of his recuperation with the benefit of the Rebbe's words, his brothers deepened their attachment to - and observance of - all things Jewish, at the same time keeping strict attention that their brother follow the Rebbe's instructions.

One day the brothers telephoned: their brother had gone off the path of strict kashrus, and was eating non-Jewish dairy products. "Please," they begged me, "help him get his act together."

"Me? I should influence him!" I asked. "He knows better than anyone what he's been through, and how careful he needs to be!"

A short time later he was stricken with a severe cold (unrelated to his previous illness) and hospitalized. His family worried incessantly, and called again and again to the Rebbe's Secretariat to request a blessing. The Rebbe gave his blessing, and rather than the week the doctors insisted he spend in the hospital, he was back home in two days.

Months went by. After recovering completely, he had lapsed: Once again he was eating non-Jewish dairy products. His family's efforts to talk to him failed. "Yes, I believe in the Rebbe and his words," he answered them, "but who's there to say that my recovery was from his blessings, and not simply natural circumstances?" How cleverly his yetzer hara was working on him!

Not long after that the young man contracted pneumonia, and was in critical condition. He had become extremely weak; his natural defenses were overwhelmed.

This time - on his own initiative - he wanted to visit the Rebbe, and Rabbi Naftali Estulin accompanied him to New York. Meeting the Rebbe, he burst out crying and confessed all his wrong-doings from Day One and until the present moment; he begged to do teshuvah and promised to follow the Rebbe's directions. The Rebbe gave his blessing; full recovery followed shortly. This time, though, things were reversed: his brothers and the whole family completely embraced Judaism - through his merit!
* * * * *
Source: Adapted by Yerachmiel Tilles from the excellent translation by his old buddy Tuvia Natkin from the original article in Kfar Chabad Magazine by Avraham Holzberg.

Connection: Weekly Torah Reading - verses 18:15 and 19:13 play a significant role in the story.

Biographical note:
Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the Lubavitcher Rebbe (11 Nissan 1902 - 3 Tammuz 1994), became the seventh Rebbe of the Chabad dynasty after his father-in-law, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, passed away in Brooklyn on 10 Shvat 1950. He is widely acknowledged as the greatest Jewish leader of the second half of the 20th century. Although a dominant scholar in both the revealed and hidden aspects of Torah and fluent in many languages and scientific subjects, the Rebbe is best known for his extraordinary love and concern for every Jew on the planet. His emissaries around the globe dedicated to strengthening Judaism number in the thousands. Hundreds of volumes of his teachings have been printed, as well as dozens of English renditions.

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Yerachmiel Tilles is co-founder and associate director of Ascent-of-Safed, and chief editor of this website (and of KabbalaOnline.org). He has hundreds of published stories to his credit, and many have been translated into other languages. He tells them live at Ascent nearly every Saturday night.

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