Monthly Archives: February 2016

The events I am about to describe occurred in 1969 – in the early hours of the 8^th day of Tammuz, which was Tuesday, the 24^th of June. This is what happened:

A friend, Rabbi Elchanan Geisinsky, invited us to his wedding, which was taking place in Boston on Monday night, and I – along with a group of Chabad yeshiva students – decided to attend. How could we not?

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Nine of us piled into a station-wagon and drove from New York to Boston, where we enjoyed the wedding celebration, and it was already past midnight, when we set off for home. As we were getting off the highway, slowing down to exit, a tractor-trailer going about seventy miles an hour hit the back of our car. The driver had tried to avoid crashing into us, but he was going too fast and couldn’t slow down in time. His truck clipped our back corner, which caused our car to flip into the air. I remember waiting for it to land so I could jump out of the back window, which I did.

As soon as the car was hit, it burst into flames. The middle doors jammed, and the three fellows in the middle seats were burned quite severely. One of those from the front who had managed to get out tried to help them to open the door but, as soon as he grabbed the handle, he burned all of his fingers. Eventually, he managed to open the door and everyone got out. Several of the guys had to roll on the grass to put out the flames still licking their clothes but, thank G-d, everyone was okay.

The state trooper who arrived at the scene was just amazed. He said, “I’ve been patrolling this highway for twenty-five years and I never saw a fire like this, with nine people packed into a car, and everybody coming out alive. And the fact that the gas tank didn’t explode was just miraculous.”

When this happened, seeing some of my friends severely burned, Rabbi Meir Minkowitz called the Rebbe’s office even though it was five in the morning. He spoke with his secretary, Rabbi Hodakov, and he pleaded with him to ask the Rebbe for a blessing. His response was that we should check with the doctors first. If they said that somebody’s situation was life-threatening, then he would call the Rebbe. If not, he would speak with the Rebbe first thing in the morning. (more…)

I was born in Williamsburg, Brooklyn in 1935, a few years before the start the Second World War. As I was growing up I witnessed an influx of Chassidim and their Rebbes – Satmar, Belz, Lubavitch – into Brooklyn. So I got a good taste of Chassidic life at that time.

However, I did not pursue Chassidic life. In fact, when it came time to go to yeshiva, I went to Telz in Cleveland where I stayed for 13 years – from 1950 until 1963. Telz is affiliated more with the non-chasidic “Lithuanian” style of Talmudic study. I left when my rabbis at Telz encouraged me to spend a couple of years teaching in South Africa, where there was a crisis in Jewish education.

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So I went, and along with a couple of others, helped establish the first religious school for Jewish children in Johannesburg. We started out with a primary school, then established a high school for boys and after three years, also a high school for girls.

In December of 1966, I began to plan a visit to the United States. One of the items on my agenda was to find someone to head the girls’ high school, and I was hoping to find a suitable candidate in the US.

While in South Africa, I had befriended the Chabad emissaries there, and they encouraged me to see the Rebbe. So I decided to make an appointment, and I hoped the Rebbe might also help me with a recommendation with regard to the position in the high school.

While meeting the Rebbe, I was most impressed with his overwhelming personality. There was no question that he was an intellectual giant – a truly great man. But he also had an ability to see through people that very few have. And when speaking to him, I had a sense of being acknowledged and understood. (more…)

I grew up in a Chabad home in Toronto where, at a very early age, I was influenced by the Rebbe.

Before I ever met him, I knew the Rebbe was a force in the life of my family. I remember letters addressed to my father coming from the Rebbe. My father never just ripped the letter open. He prepared for reading the Rebbe’s words. He would wash his hands and put on a gartel – the cloth belt worn by chasidim – and only then would he read the letter. Most of the times, he didn’t share with us kids what the Rebbe wrote, but whenever that distinctive envelope arrived, we felt a special excitement in the home.

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From time to time, we would travel to visit my grandparents in New York for Sukkot, and there was always such great anticipation, because we would be able to participate in the Rebbe’s farbrengens and possibly see the Rebbe in a private audience.

Even as a child, I distinctly remember the first time that happened. It was around 1954 and I was only five years old at the time, and although I certainly didn’t understand the importance of the Rebbe, I could plainly see his majesty. So I was in awe.

I recall that he asked me about my studies. The mere fact that he gave me any attention at all – and also to my siblings, whom he addressed each in a personal way – indicated a tremendous sensitivity toward children.

I remember that at the farbrengens around Simchas Torah time, the custom was for the young children to get up on a table and sing a song. Afterwards, the Rebbe would direct someone to give us grape juice so we could say L’Chaim. It was a beautiful thing – to give the children center stage in front of all the adults. More importantly, he was also sowing seeds that would flourish later. The Rebbe wasn’t just making a kind gesture by paying attention to children – the Rebbe was nurturing a future generation.

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When I was a boy, my father – an immigrant from Bialystok, Poland – accepted the post as a rabbi of a synagogue in Borough Park, Brooklyn. This was in the early 1940s, and this is when I first encountered the world of Chabad-Lubavitch.

I attended the Chabad elementary school on Dean Street, where my teacher, Rabbi Meir Greenberg – who later became my brother-in-law – was very concerned about my hearing. Indeed, I was nearly deaf and the doctors whom my parents consulted recommended surgery. So Meir decided to bring me to the Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe for a blessing that the operation should go well.

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I remember the encounter vividly. I remember that the Rebbe’s gaze was very intense but that he also looked at me with great compassion. He smiled kindly and told me not to worry, that I would hear again. As it turned out, the surgery was successful, and I was able to hear quite well afterwards.

A few years later, my family moved to New Jersey, and although I came to Chabad Headquarters from time to time for farbrengens, I was not part of the Chabad world.

I got married and became a rabbi of a synagogue in San Antonio Texas, and later in Long Branch, New Jersey. While there, my oldest daughter became very sick, and I contacted the Rebbe – this time the last Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson – for his blessing. He urged me to go to California to see a physician there who was world renowned. This physician helped her, and she recovered for a time, but after five years – at age seventeen – she passed away.

When that happened, we decided to establish a high school in her name in Deal, New Jersey. But there were complications from the start, as some of the donors wanted a co-ed school, and we wanted a girls’ school. And then there was the question of the site itself. We found a beautiful mansion that was the perfect building for the school. But the Jewish neighbors opposed the idea, fearing the value of their properties would go down. (more…)