Daniel Levine
12 December 2024
I met the Rebbe when I was nineteen years old, not long after the death of my father in a tragic car accident. At the time, I was still coping with the aftereffects of that traumatic event and was confused about what course in life to follow. And then I remembered my father telling me when I was a small boy, “The Rebbe is a great leader of world Jewry, and if you ever find things too hard to manage, write to him or go to him for advice.”
Click here for full-color print version
So, in December of 1976, I made the trip from Sydney, Australia – where I was born, raised and educated – to see the Rebbe in New York.
In preparation for the audience, I had written a two-page letter in which I detailed my situation in life and posed half-a-dozen questions for the Rebbe:
My number one concern was my mother, who’d had a hard time ever since my father was killed. The accident happened in front of her eyes and, as a result, she suffered a nervous shock, what today is called PTSD. So, my first question was what should I do to help my mother and if there were any words of comfort from the Rebbe that I could convey to her.
In reply, the Rebbe spoke for several minutes about the mitzvah of honoring one’s parents. He cited various instances where this subject is mentioned in the Torah, in the works of the Prophets and in the teachings of the Talmudic sages. Then he said, “When you return home, you should tell your mother that you came to see me and I advised you that the greatest comfort a mother can receive is to see that her son is following in the footsteps of his father and adhering to the tenets of Jewish law. When you do so, it brings comfort to your father’s soul and comforts your mother in her grief.”
My second set of questions pertained to my education and future livelihood. My father had owned a pharmacy, so I wanted to know if I should enroll in university and become a pharmacist – a path neither of my parents had favored – or learn in yeshivah? Or, since a number of people seemed to think I had a good singing voice, should I perhaps become a cantor (chazan)?
Before answering those questions, the Rebbe said, “I would like to ask you about the death of your father. I realize that you might find it somewhat upsetting, but I think it’s necessary for you to speak about this.”
I told the Rebbe that it happened on a Saturday night, when my father – who typically took my mother out for coffee then – had stopped by the pharmacy on the way home. He was just returning to his car, when a driver, traveling in excess of 90 mph, smashed into him. The driver then hit eight other cars and a bus.
I had heard all these details in the Coroner’s Court and again in the Magistrate’s Court, but retelling them to the Rebbe was very painful, as I had not spoken about any of it with anyone. I had loved my father dearly and I missed him terribly. Truth be told, I did not realize until later that when I came to see the Rebbe, I was actually in a state of depression. The Rebbe must have sensed this and that is why he wanted me to talk about what had happened in order to alleviate the trauma I had suffered. This is not easily accomplished. The traumatized person needs someone who will listen patiently, someone he can trust, someone to whom he can speak from the heart. I had not been able to do this until that moment and had instead deflected my feelings by focusing on my mother’s needs.
The Rebbe said the most immediate need was the livelihood of my family which came via our pharmacy, and so I should enroll in pharmaceutical studies at the university. I followed his advice, and although I never fully completed the course of study to become a pharmacist, I managed the family business for some ten years after my father’s passing.
The Rebbe further said that while he could not advise me to take time off from earning a livelihood to study in yeshivah, that did not mean I could forgo fixed times of Torah study. “What is required of you is to know and observe all the directives of Jewish law.”
As he was saying this, I was despairing at the thought of how many volumes that included, but the Rebbe seemed to be reading my mind. He took a Kitzur Shulchan Aruch, the code of Jewish law abbreviated into a single volume, out of his drawer and held it up. “Do you have a copy of this?” I did have it and I had studied it multiple times.
Still holding the book in his hand, the Rebbe said, “As you go through life, remember that this book tells you exactly how you should conduct yourself. Just learn its contents well and live accordingly.”
Forever after, the image of the Rebbe holding up the Kitzur Shulchan Aruch has stayed in my mind and kept me on the straight and narrow.
In conclusion, the Rebbe said, “You have told me all the advice you received from others – your parents, your brother, your mentors and friends. And now you have received my advice. But nowhere have you mentioned what you yourself want. Is there anything that you particularly need or want that I can assist you with?”
His encouragement led me to speak from the heart. I said, “The only thing I want is to see the arrival of Mashiach, because there is too much suffering in the world.” I continued in that vein, concluding, with emotion, “And when the great day of Resurrection of the Dead arrives, I want to see my father and run toward him as fast as I can and hug him and kiss him, and tell him how much I love him and how I miss him. That is all I want.”
As I finished these words, I was so overcome that I collapsed to the floor, because I apparently fainted. When I opened my eyes, Rabbi Leibel Groner, the Rebbe’s secretary, was helping me up.
As I stood up, I saw that the Rebbe was sitting at his desk with his head down – I could not see his face, but he seemed to be shaking. Finally, he looked up and wiped his eyes. I was shocked to realize that the Rebbe had been sobbing. It was very painful for me to see that I had caused him to cry.
I tried to apologize, but the Rebbe said, “No apologies are necessary. This is the first time in my life that I’ve heard another Jew say that the only thing he wants is for Mashiach to come.”
When the audience was over, the Rebbe’s final words to me were, “May the Almighty bless you.” And then he rose slightly from his chair and said again, “Yes, may the Almighty bless you.”
Daniel Levine divides his time between Sydney and Jerusalem. He was interviewed on the 50th anniversary of the passing of his father, Eliyohu ben Yehuda Leib Levine, in July, 2024.
I met the Rebbe when I was nineteen years old, not long after the death of my father in a tragic car accident. At the time, I was still coping with the aftereffects of that traumatic event and was confused about what course in life to follow. And then I remembered my father telling me when I was a small boy, “The Rebbe is a great leader of world Jewry, and if you ever find things too hard to manage, write to him or go to him for advice.”
Click here for full-color print version
So, in December of 1976, I made the trip from Sydney, Australia – where I was born, raised and educated – to see the Rebbe in New York.
In preparation for the audience, I had written a two-page letter in which I detailed my situation in life and posed half-a-dozen questions for the Rebbe:
My number one concern was my mother, who’d had a hard time ever since my father was killed. The accident happened in front of her eyes and, as a result, she suffered a nervous shock, what today is called PTSD. So, my first question was what should I do to help my mother and if there were any words of comfort from the Rebbe that I could convey to her.
In reply, the Rebbe spoke for several minutes about the mitzvah of honoring one’s parents. He cited various instances where this subject is mentioned in the Torah, in the works of the Prophets and in the teachings of the Talmudic sages. Then he said, “When you return home, you should tell your mother that you came to see me and I advised you that the greatest comfort a mother can receive is to see that her son is following in the footsteps of his father and adhering to the tenets of Jewish law. When you do so, it brings comfort to your father’s soul and comforts your mother in her grief.”
My second set of questions pertained to my education and future livelihood. My father had owned a pharmacy, so I wanted to know if I should enroll in university and become a pharmacist – a path neither of my parents had favored – or learn in yeshivah? Or, since a number of people seemed to think I had a good singing voice, should I perhaps become a cantor (chazan)?
Before answering those questions, the Rebbe said, “I would like to ask you about the death of your father. I realize that you might find it somewhat upsetting, but I think it’s necessary for you to speak about this.”
I told the Rebbe that it happened on a Saturday night, when my father – who typically took my mother out for coffee then – had stopped by the pharmacy on the way home. He was just returning to his car, when a driver, traveling in excess of 90 mph, smashed into him. The driver then hit eight other cars and a bus.
I had heard all these details in the Coroner’s Court and again in the Magistrate’s Court, but retelling them to the Rebbe was very painful, as I had not spoken about any of it with anyone. I had loved my father dearly and I missed him terribly. Truth be told, I did not realize until later that when I came to see the Rebbe, I was actually in a state of depression. The Rebbe must have sensed this and that is why he wanted me to talk about what had happened in order to alleviate the trauma I had suffered. This is not easily accomplished. The traumatized person needs someone who will listen patiently, someone he can trust, someone to whom he can speak from the heart. I had not been able to do this until that moment and had instead deflected my feelings by focusing on my mother’s needs.
The Rebbe said the most immediate need was the livelihood of my family which came via our pharmacy, and so I should enroll in pharmaceutical studies at the university. I followed his advice, and although I never fully completed the course of study to become a pharmacist, I managed the family business for some ten years after my father’s passing.
The Rebbe further said that while he could not advise me to take time off from earning a livelihood to study in yeshivah, that did not mean I could forgo fixed times of Torah study. “What is required of you is to know and observe all the directives of Jewish law.”
As he was saying this, I was despairing at the thought of how many volumes that included, but the Rebbe seemed to be reading my mind. He took a Kitzur Shulchan Aruch, the code of Jewish law abbreviated into a single volume, out of his drawer and held it up. “Do you have a copy of this?” I did have it and I had studied it multiple times.
Still holding the book in his hand, the Rebbe said, “As you go through life, remember that this book tells you exactly how you should conduct yourself. Just learn its contents well and live accordingly.”
Forever after, the image of the Rebbe holding up the Kitzur Shulchan Aruch has stayed in my mind and kept me on the straight and narrow.
In conclusion, the Rebbe said, “You have told me all the advice you received from others – your parents, your brother, your mentors and friends. And now you have received my advice. But nowhere have you mentioned what you yourself want. Is there anything that you particularly need or want that I can assist you with?”
His encouragement led me to speak from the heart. I said, “The only thing I want is to see the arrival of Mashiach, because there is too much suffering in the world.” I continued in that vein, concluding, with emotion, “And when the great day of Resurrection of the Dead arrives, I want to see my father and run toward him as fast as I can and hug him and kiss him, and tell him how much I love him and how I miss him. That is all I want.”
As I finished these words, I was so overcome that I collapsed to the floor, because I apparently fainted. When I opened my eyes, Rabbi Leibel Groner, the Rebbe’s secretary, was helping me up.
As I stood up, I saw that the Rebbe was sitting at his desk with his head down – I could not see his face, but he seemed to be shaking. Finally, he looked up and wiped his eyes. I was shocked to realize that the Rebbe had been sobbing. It was very painful for me to see that I had caused him to cry.
I tried to apologize, but the Rebbe said, “No apologies are necessary. This is the first time in my life that I’ve heard another Jew say that the only thing he wants is for Mashiach to come.”
When the audience was over, the Rebbe’s final words to me were, “May the Almighty bless you.” And then he rose slightly from his chair and said again, “Yes, may the Almighty bless you.”
Daniel Levine divides his time between Sydney and Jerusalem. He was interviewed on the 50th anniversary of the passing of his father, Eliyohu ben Yehuda Leib Levine, in July, 2024.
