A STORY WORTH TELLING

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A STORY WORTH TELLING

Harav Y. Reuven Rubin Shlita

Stories are basic to the human condition; they allow us to reach places plain words can’t begin to touch. The Torah itself is in many ways given to us as a story; it’s the only way the finite human can begin to grasp the infinite. For this reason, tales of our Tzadikim have always been clothed in stories, allowing us to glimpse their greatness in a fashion we can accept. Forty-seven years ago the Beis Yesroil of Ger was Niftar, and with him went a huge chapter in Torah growth after the Churban. Many are the stories told of this very individual Tzadik and every one of them touches another facet of his being. I want to share such a story, and allow the reader to see his compassion in yet another light.

After the war some of the Gerrer olam who had survived ended up in New York City. There the first Gerrer Shtieblach were founded, and those unique souls started to put their shattered lives back together again. One such Polisha Yied had lost his entire family and had remarried with the hope to rebuild a Torah future. He was blessed with a large Torah-loyal family and in time was blessed to take his first child to the chuppah. A few years later this Yied was told that his first married daughter was about to have a child. This would be her second, the first being a lovely little girl. Our hero now lived in Eretz Yisroel, his daughter in Brooklyn. As the time drew near when she was meant to give birth, her elderly father sat next to his phone Tehilim in hand. It was Pesach and as the last days arrived our friend was left with no news. As it was, the baby boy was born as Yom Tov was ushered in and so our Yied became the grandfather of a very special grandson without his knowledge. On Motzoei Yom Tov his son in law called him to share the wondrous news: a boy! His first grandson!

With this our protagonist went straight off to Yerusholayim to share his simcha with the Beis Yisroel. At the same time things had become decidedly fraught in America; it seems the young child had a rare blood condition and was in serious difficulty. The young father came to the hospital only to find the doctors running down the hall pushing a small incubator and calling out for help. He turned to find that his wife was laying in her bed in tears. The little emergency was his son, and they were running to give him a transfusion. The doctors refused to commit themselves, they were very worried. The young father ran back to find a phone and call his father- in- Law; after all, who more than the Beis Yisroel could bring forth a miracle? This call took some time and when he finally reached Eretz Yisroel he was to hear something astounding. “Ziedy there is something wrong with the baby”, “I know…. I went into the Rebbe and he smiled at me as I walked in saying “Mazel Tov, Mazel Tov…. don’t worry, they will give him four transfusions, but he will be alright. You will see nachas from him and share in only simchas!” What’s this all about? What did the Rebbe mean?” The father of the baby was taken aback, how did the Rebbe know what was going on? That it would all turn out so well? Needless to say, they gave the blood to the child four times and celebrated his bris only two weeks late.

The story doesn’t end there, for in truth when the Beis Yisroel became bonded with someone it was forever. That little boy visited the Rebbe with his father and grandfather as a small child on several occasions. On each of these, there was a special smile given him by the great Tzadik. As the boy was about to turn eight, the entire world was thrown into darkness. The Rebbe had been taken from us; his huge light was no more. Or was it? Sometime later a little cheder child mentioned to his Rebbe in the Gerrer Cheder in Boro Park that he had strange dreams. He dreamt that the Beis Yisroel was walking on the street with a large group of Chasidim. As he walked the child saw himself across the street. The Rebbe stopped, called out to him and, waving his silver- topped walking stick, called out, “Come here my child, you are mine.” This sweet child’s innocent dream was talked about in Ger and was related to the Lev Simcha. The Rebbe sighed and said, “What do you think, he is gone? No, Eir Dried zich do tzivision inse, he is amongst us here.” That young child was the very same that had been born on Pesach those short years earlier….and he was certainly bonded with his Rebbe.

In all the years since his petirah, I have met many Jews who had the merit to be touched by this amazing soul. And one thing I found they all have in common: his impact was such that he is still with them, in them, part of their being. That little boy grew up to become a worthy Rav of a large community, and he has often said, “I still feel that Eire Dried zich with me.”

The story is sweet and dipped with the Rebbe’s all-encompassing ahavas yisroel. Sometimes we hear such tales and whimsically wonder about their veracity. This one I can attest to with a full heart. I was that young father, the elder Gerrer chossid was my father-in-law, Rav Shlomo Yechiel Grodzinsky Ztl a yied who had the merit of seeing the Sfas Emes as a child. The little boy is my son, now the Senior Rav of Scotland, a proud Gerrer Chossid in the land of the Kilts. Next week is the Shver’s yohrziet and his zest for Yiddishkeit still lives on in the many generations he left. The power of those Yidden, has oxygenated who we are today. May we all grow in their illumination, and joyously see the coming of the Moshiach soon.