Climbing the ladder to Heaven: a step by step guide by Rabbi Y. R. Rubin

There are stories that in just a few words can open up your heart. This week I saw one that has echoed over and again. I want to share it with you.

It relates to the Torah’s depiction of the dream of Yaakov Avinu which features a ladder from earth to heaven with malochim (angels) going up and down it. Rav Elimelech Biderman relates that the Imrei Emes (Gerer Rebbe ztl) asked his son the Pnei Menachem, (when he was still a child) the following.  By the way, it’s always uplifting to be reminded that our Sages have real live children who they teach in a way that they as children can understand!

“Heaven is very soft, since it was created from fire and water. At best, we can imagine Heaven being like a large, soft sponge. So how could the ladder rest on it? A ladder must lie on a firm surface, otherwise it will fall. So how could the ladder hang on the soft Heaven?  “The answer is,” his father immediately explained, “that the ladder was even softer than Heaven.” “But then there is another question” his father continued. “How could the angels walk up and down the ladder? The ladder, we’ve just decided, was extremely lightweight and soft. How could it hold the angels? We must answer that the angels were even lighter and softer than the ladder.” The Imrei Emes concluded: “This shows us that whatever is softer is more spiritual.”

“Being humble at the expense of having your name called out several times is not humility at all.”

What a powerful lesson! Angels are created through our mitzvos, and the softer, more understated they are, the more spiritual they are. It often seems that Torah adherence is predicated on the force in which we actualize its holy words, but in truth, our mitzvos should be done with holy sweetness and compassion. You can’t storm your way up the ladder to heaven; it takes deft steps and a willingness created by a soft heart brimming with love.

I have had the merit to see a few masters of this art, Yidden totally given over to Hashem with a devekus far beyond others’ understanding. Yet they carried it with softness and warmth that touched all who came into their lives.

One such giant was in fact slight of build yet huge in spirit. The previous Bobover Rebbe, Rav Naftali Halberstam ztl, was the most caring gentle Yid one could hope to meet. I met Rav Naftulcha, as he was then known, shortly after my barmitzvah, and had the merit to bask in his warmth throughout my formative years. His was a gentle guidance, small conversations, witty anecdotes and constant valuable instruction. To know him was to be blessed with an abundance of warmth.  There was nothing he wouldn’t do for another Yid, yet it was always done quietly with a smile.

Rav Gadol Eisner once said, “the past is a chalom (dream), the future is dimyonos (fantasies), and the present is nisyonos (actual life tests). Rav Naftulcha never dwelt in the past, one filled with the horrors of everything the Nazi epoch poured over Klal Yisroel. Nor did he dwell in wishful plans. Instead, his focus was on the challenges he faced daily. He carried his responsibilities with grace, and only those very close could detect that there were moments of great sadness. He lived for Klal Yisroel and it was this that often caused him pain. He could not see another Yid in trouble; your tzores was his. Being in the thick of everything that was the burgeoning Bobov of those years, he was the gentle centre of what could sometimes seem chaotic.

If you ever wanted to experience how deep the love for another Yid can be, all you needed to do was look into his sweet eyes. They were full of compassion, tinged with the awareness of what you were feeling.  I still see them; they are engraved in my heart, and have been my guide through all the trials and tribulations that life has thrown my way.

His hallmark was his soft gentleness; his were mitzvos that definitely transported themselves up that soft ladder to Shomayim with gossamer footsteps. His every word was softness, his Torah thoughts soaked in the tears of a true Eved Hashem.

I remember a Chol Hamoed tish at which there was a large crowd. The Rebbe noticed the son of a well- known Rav enter at the back and called out for him to come and sit at the head table. The young guest demurred; not for him the top table; he would just sit in the rear. The Rebbe was insistent, calling out several times for the fellow to come forward, as he felt it was a dishonour to his illustrious father not to be given this respect. Finally, the fellow acceded to the Rebbe’s wishes and took his place up front. Rav Naftulcha turned to me (I was standing behind him) and whispered, “Reuven, there will be a time when you will have to sit up front;  the right thing to do is go straight to the seat when asked, and not make a fuss. It is better to accept your situation and not draw more attention to yourself. Being humble at the expense of having your name called out several times is not humility at all.”

Soft spirituality, not making a scene, this was typical of what he was, and was very much part and parcel of his avodas Hashem.

Everything is part of our service to Hashem, kivyachol, from where we sit, to how we build.

It is uplifting to see the Rebbe’s holy approach towards avodas Hashem still being revered and his pathway being followed by a new generation with love and mesiras nefesh.

I miss his sweet warm eyes, and hope that by sharing something of what he was, others will gain inspiration.