You Don't Have To Worry About Parnassah

By Shimon Katzman

Back in 1990 a friend was having some problems. I suggested that he go to the Lubavitcher Rebbe for a blessing. Although not a chasid, I greatly revere the Rebbe.

"Okay," he said, "but only if you come with me."

I agreed.

We came to 770 (Lubavitch World Headquarters at 770 Eastern Parkway in Brooklyn) on Sunday morning and waited patiently on line for four hours. Over 5,000 people had come to receive a blessing and a dollar to give to charity from the Rebbe. As we approached the Rebbe, I began to think of a problem I had at work. I was under so much pressure from my boss that I had considered changing jobs or transferring to a different unit. I decided to ask the Rebbe what to do.

The line moved quickly. As I approached the Rebbe, I blurted out my question of whether or not to change jobs. To my surprise, the Rebbe answered, "If you have kosher tefilin you don't have to worry about parnasa (livelihood)."

That's strange, I thought to myself. How could there be something wrong with my tefilin? The scribes who had checked the tefilin over the years had consistently noted how nicely they were written. They recognized the handwriting of the scribe and would add, "He is one of the best scribes in Israel."

Could it be that my tefilin were not kosher? Was there a possibility that I had not worn kosher tefilin for 30 years? Why, the mere thought of it scared me. I immediately went to a scribe and had him check them over.

"It's a very nice pair of kosher tefilin," the scribe said. I breathed a sigh of relief, but I was still puzzled by the Rebbe's remarks. Thus, two weeks later I returned to the Rebbe to clarify the matter.

"I checked my tefilin and the scribe said they're kosher," I reported.

"How can that be?" said the Rebbe as he handed me a dollar. "Is the scribe an honest, reliable Jew?"

"Yes," I answered. Once again I was surprised at the Rebbe's remark. I had a strange feeling. I went to another scribe. I told the scribe the entire story and he carefully examined the leather boxes for any imperfections. He used a light table to check the parchments for minute cracks in the ink that may render tefilin posul, not kosher. Once again, nothing was found.

Unsatisfied, I went to the Vaad Mishmeres STAM, an organization that had developed a way of checking Torah scrolls, tefilin, and mezuzot by computer scanning to see if any letters are missing. Again the results were negative.

Now, for the third time, I returned to the Rebbe. This time as I passed the Rebbe I said to him, "I checked my tefilin by two different scribes and by computer and they said they're kosher."

"Nu," said the Rebbe, "if two honest scribes say they're kosher, then it's not your responsibility; it's their responsibility."

I was totally upset! Obviously the Rebbe was very insistent that something was wrong. I went to a great rabbi and told him the whole story.

The rabbi said to me, "Even if the Lubavitcher Rebbe is like an angel who sees things that no person can see, the Torah was not given to angels. We can only be expected to do what humans can do."

"Yes," I said. "But what's going to be 'after 120 years,' when I'm standing before the Heavenly Tribunal and they say, 'Shimon, you never wore kosher tefilin in your lifetime!' "

"Listen," said the rabbi, "don't worry. Heaven cannot expect you to do more than you did. If they ruled here on earth that your tefilin are kosher then it's kosher and you've done your duty."

I was still not at ease, so I went out and bought the finest pair of tefilin money can buy. The following morning, on the eve of Yom Kippur, I put on the new pair of tefilin for the very first time.

The night after Yom Kippur my wife, Brocha, received an interesting phone call. For six weeks she had been vying for a new position in her school as the Assistant Principal. However, the principal refused to give it to her. He claimed that since the school was growing he wanted to hire someone from outside to do the job. My wife countered that since she had been doing the job of the Assistant Principal until now, she should receive the title and the increase in salary. For six weeks the principal had been interviewing candidates for the job.

That night, the principal called to tell her, "I've decided it's only right that you be the assistant principal. And you'll be getting a five thousand-dollar raise."

We suddenly recalled the Rebbe's words: "If you have kosher tefilin, you don't have to worry about parnasa." A few months later my boss left my department and the pressure was finally off.

But the story doesn't end there. For several years after buying the new tefilin I continued to wear my old tefilin. I would put them on after I finished praying.

During that time I had applied for various managerial positions and had requested that my titled be upgraded. I had four people working under me but I was unsuccessful in getting a managerial title. My boss would tell me, "There are no more managerial slots to be filled, the department has reached its limit."

Someone told me that there was an unused title of "supervisor." He recommended I speak to my boss about it. My boss said he would look into it.

Months passed. In the interim, I had stopped wearing my old pair of tefilin and was now only putting on the "new" pair. One day, my boss called me and said, "I have good news for you, you're finally being promoted to supervisor and that means you'll be getting a ten percent raise!"

A COMATOSE "HALLUCINATION"

It is a glorious good deed to share one's lulav-esrog set during the Sukkot festival. On the first day of the holiday, two students from the main Lubavitcher Yeshiva, in the Crown Heights section of Brooklyn, walked to the nearby neighborhood of Park Slope and knocked on doors, offering people to make the blessing on their "Four Species." At one apartment they were immediately let in by a young man with long blond hair and blue jeans (this story happened in the early '70's). He declined their offer, saying that he already possessed a set! They were quite surprised to hear it, and much more so when he proceeded to take out and show them the most beautiful esrog they had ever seen.

The "hippie" asked the two wide-eyed students if they would like to know the story of how he got this magnificentesrog.

"I had suddenly taken ill and my condition deteriorated rapidly. I was hospitalized and fell into a coma. I heard afterwards that the doctors had given up on my chances for survival.

"While lying in a coma I saw a sort of courtroom, and the mood of the judges was frighteningly somber. Then, an old man stood up. He had a large, squarish white beard and piercing blue eyes, yet his face was welcoming and somehow reassuring. He announced to the court that he would assume responsibility for me.

"Turning to me, he told me that I would not die at this time, but in return I would have to get more involved with my Judaism.

"A short while later I regained consciousness. The doctors were surprised. After a slow recuperation and rehabilitation, I was released and sent home. Several months passed and life resumed its normal status quo. I had almost forgotten my strange dream.

"One day I was watching the evening news. The report concerned the seventieth birthday of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. When the Rebbe's face appeared on the screen, I nearly jumped out of my skin. There was the face I had seen in my coma. I called the TV station and asked them where this person lived.

"Traveling by subway, I arrived at 770 Eastern Parkway, Lubavitch World Headquarters. People were running back and forth. I stopped a young man and told him I wanted to see the Rebbe. He brought me to a certain spot and told me to stand there, that the Rebbe would soon be passing by on his way to his office.

"When I saw the Rebbe, a great awe overcame me. I managed to step in front of his path and said, 'Rebbe, I need to speak to you.' The Rebbe walked past me as though I was not there. I felt like I had just been thrown away. 'So much for comatose hallucinations,' I thought.

"Just then, a different office door opened. A man who introduced himself as the Rebbe's secretary told me that the Rebbe wanted to see me now. I was led into his office and the secretary closed the door.

"I told the Rebbe about seeing him during my coma and what he has said to me. The Rebbe smiled and said, 'if so, what have you done about it?' I shook my head sheepishly.

"The Rebbe asked me various personal details. Finally he opened a desk draw and removed what he told me was a pair of tefillin. Handing them to me, he said that I should go into the adjoining study hall and ask one of the students to show me how to use them.

"Each month, he continued, he would send some other mitzvah for me to do. This month, just a few days ago, I received this esrog, along with a lulav and the little branches of two kinds of greens. I have instructions how to use them but I don't quite understand them. Since you are here, please show me how to do it."

Copied from Ascent

Miracles In Our Times

In 1995, Jeremy Jordan underwent extensive surgery. During his recovery, he developed a severe infection, which necessitated an additional operation.

Jeremy's own surgeon was out of town at the time, and so a surgeon whom Jeremy had never met, Dr. S., was to perform the second surgery. Dr. S. put Jeremy under general anesthesia and began operating.

During the surgery, Jeremy woke up! He felt no pain, and was aware of his surroundings. As he looked up at the ceiling, he saw the Rebbe. The Rebbe told Jeremy to give a message to the doctor who was operating on him!

The Rebbe then told Jeremy to tell Dr. S. that if he began to put on tefilin every day, the difficulties he was experiencing with his daughter would cease. The Rebbe stressed that although something was very wrong with the man's daughter it would be rectified if he performed this mitzva.

Jeremy told the Rebbe he would pass on the message. Imagine the consternation in the operating room when the "anesthetized" patient began to speak! The nurse told Dr. S. that the patient had awakened, and asked what she should do. Dr. S. replied that she should give him additional anesthesia.

Before this could be done, however, Jeremy asked Dr. S. to come close so that he could see his face. Dr. S. complied, asking Jeremy if he was in any pain, and curious to know if his "unconscious" patient truly understood what was going on around him. Jeremy made it clear that he did.

Then Jeremy told the doctor: "You may think I'm crazy, but I have a message for you. Do you know who the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, is?"

Dr. S. replied, "I've heard of him, why?"

"Well," Jeremy continued, "He just appeared to me in a vision and told me to tell you that the difficulties with your daughter will be solved if you put on tefilin every day."

The doctor was dumbfounded, but remembering where he was, he managed to say that the surgery was almost finished and that he would have Jeremy out of the operating room soon. During the remainder of the procedure, Jeremy recalls that he remained conscious, feeling a unique peace of mind as the Rebbe's words echoed in his thoughts.

While Jeremy was in the recovery room, Dr. S. came over and closed the curtain around the bed. He took Jeremy's hand in his own and, with tears in his eyes, whispered, "I believe you! The last time I was in a synagogue was at my Bar Mitzva. I haven't prayed or acknowledged G-d since then.

"My daughter is gravely ill. Since I am a physician, I feel doubly helpless that I can't help her. This morning, I prayed for the first time in over 30 years, pleading with G-d to heal her. I added: 'If You really exist, show me a sign.' "Then you awoke during surgery and gave me that message from Rebbe Schneerson! It's incredible!"

After this experience, Dr. S. purchased a pair of tefilin and began attending synagogue. Within weeks, his daughter recovered completely.

---

Mrs. Terri Naiditch, a member of the Lubavitch community in Pittsburgh, once received the following letter from her father.

"In the fall of 1985, I went for a check-up shortly before my crucial business season started, as was my habit in those years.

"I was referred to a dermatologist to confirm that a mole on my back had all the earmarks of a malignant melanoma - a potentially lethal affliction that can spread cancer throughout the body. He in turn sent me to the Mayo Clinic to see about having the mole removed.

"At the Mayo Clinic, I asked the head of dermatology to tell me frankly whether it was malignant, for I was also suffering such intense pain and worry that I was considering early retirement. He not only confirmed that it was malignant, but even had his whole staff come in and look at my mole, evidently as a textbook example of a melanoma. (I had studied a pamphlet on this disorder, and had seen that mine was identical to one of the most graphic illustrations.)

"Upon hearing of my planned operation, you and Pinky appealed to Rebbe Menachem Schneerson to intercede on my behalf, which he generously did.

"You know the sequel. When the operation took place, the tissue was sent out for the obligatory biopsy, and only moments after I was sewn up, the surgeon returned with the greeting, 'Boy, were you lucky! It's not malignant!'

"Now, you know that your mother and our dear friends the Dotys were there with me, and that their prayers and others were offered for me. The unique thing about my appreciation, though, was for the help of the Rebbe. I do not make any claim - I do not feel qualified to do so - that G-d saved me from this life-threatening malady because of the Rebbe's intervention. Yet I have complete faith in the Mayo Clinic's staff and their diagnosis, and to me this experience cannot be explained in purely logical terms. I shall always feel a debt to, and a special affection for, the Rebbe....

"Love, "Dad."

Now, Mrs. Naiditch is a convert; her father, John Huff, is not Jewish. Nonetheless, when a blessing was requested for him, the Rebbe responded.

Rabbi Hirschprung & The Lubavitcher Rebbe

Many people assumed that because Rabbi Hirschprung was a Talmudic giant and expert in all areas of Jewish law, his connection to the Rebbe was purely intellectual. After all, the Rebbe had described Rabbi Hirschprung as "a living Torah scroll." Perhaps Rabbi Hirschprung was only impressed by the Rebbe's scholarship?

Nothing could be further from the truth, as the following stories illustrate.

Rabbi Hirschprung always attended all of the Rebbe's major farbrengens (gatherings at which the Rebbe would teach for hours with breaks for soulful singing of Chasidic melodies). After the Rebbe's heart attack on Simchat Torah, 1977, Rabbi Hirschprung feared that the Rebbe would not be well enough to speak at the annual gathering on 19 Kislev, the "New Year of Chasidut." His joy, according to Rabbi Meir Plotkin, who accompanied him from Montreal to New York for the farbrengens, was indescribable when he found out that the Rebbe would farbreng after all.

On the way back to Montreal, Rabbi Hirschprung spoke continuously about the great privilege everyone has of attending one of the Rebbe's farbrengens. "Only a fool could go to sleep after such a farbrengen," Rabbi Hirschprung said. "One should go out into the street and dance from joy, that we merited to have a farbrengen with the Rebbe so soon after what happened."

"What have you seen in the Rebbe that you didn't see in anyone else?" Rabbi Plotkin once asked Rabbi Hirschprung.

"There are two things which set the Rebbe apart," Rabbi Hirschprung cited. "The Rebbe's Torah knowledge and that he is the true leader of the generation. Pinchas Hirschprung is not impressed by the title 'gaon' [Torah giant]. He knows who deserves the title. And I am telling you that there is nobody like the Rebbe, not only in our generation but even in earlier generations. I was with the gaon Rabbi Meir Shapiro in Lublin, with the gaon Rabbi Menachem Zemba, and all the gaonim of the previous generation. I found no one comparable to the Rebbe's greatness in all areas of Torah."

A few years ago, Rabbi Hirschprung's wife became ill. Upon being examined, the doctors told her that a malignant growth had been found and that she would have to undergo an operation to remove it. The doctors said the situation was critical and it was doubtful whether the operation would help.

Rabbi Hirschprung was broken by the news. People were shocked by the change in him. Gone was the active, energetic man. In his place was a debilitated, lifeless person. He stopped coming to decide points of Jewish law at the Rabbinical Court and did not speak to anyone at the yeshiva. The only thing he did not neglect was the general class that he gave, but even this was given without his usual enthusiasm.

A short while later, Rabbi Hirschprung was back to his old self. Months later, Rabbi Hirschprung's daughter related to one of his students the cause for this turnaround:

"My father is a great chasid of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Not only is he a chasid, but he is connected heart and soul with the Rebbe. I don't know if you can find a greater chasid than my father! Even though my father does not follow the customs of Chabad, nor does he use the Chabad prayerbook, I am sure that there is no chasid or mekushar (one who is connected) like my father.

When my mother's health was precarious, my father's state of mind was terrible. One day I was with my parents when a letter from the Rebbe came in the mail. My father was sitting and learning. When I told my father that a letter had arrived from the Rebbe, he got up and went to the kitchen to wash his hands. he put on his hat and jacket and then stood and read the Rebbe's letter.

"My father hurried to my mother's room and told my mother, 'I just got a letter from the Rebbe. At the end the Rebbe added a few handwritten lines which say: "Regarding what you wrote about your wife - it is only the counsel of the yetzer hara [evil inclination] who wants to weaken you. Therefore, don't pay attention to this, for it isn't true at all but the claim of the yetzer. He and his wife will merit length of days and good years." '

"Father stood near mother, and said, 'Thank G-d there is a Rebbe and the Rebbe says you are well. So, you are well, and there's nothing to worry about.'

"I couldn't believe my eyes. In an instant, my father had changed from one extreme to the other. He immediately got back to himself and became the enthusiastic, active, lively person he had been before.

"In the weeks that followed until my mother's full recovery, things were upside-down. We were the worried ones, while you couldn't tell from my father that his wife wasn't exactly well.

"Even on the day of the operation, when they wheeled my mother into the operating room and we were all so concerned, my father didn't have a care in the world. He simply didn't understand why we were worried. 'The Rebbe said that she is healthy,' he kept repeating.

"And when the doctors said that they didn't find any growth and we jumped for joy, my father didn't understand what the commotion was about. He had already known she was well."

When are you having guest?

In 1976, after several years of marriage, my wife and I finally mustered the courage to make our own Passover seder, at least for the second night. As soon as we made the decision, we began to invite guests. As the festival drew closer, the guest list grew. And grew. And grew! All of a sudden we were expecting sixteen guests!

After nullifying and burning the chametz on Passover eve, a new flush of excitement overtook me. Every year, for the few hours before the festival began, the Lubavitcher Rebbe would stand in the doorway of his office and distribute pieces of his matza, which had been baked earlier that afternoon. I decided that I would tell the Rebbe how many guests we were having and surely the Rebbe . Then, surely, he would give me extra matza.

Over-enthusiastic and impractical as usual, we sorely underestimated the amount of work left to be done that day. When I finally reached the Rebbe's office, it was too late! The Rebbe had gone back inside to prepare for Maariv (the evening prayer). "Oh no," I thought. "From one piece of matza, to a lot, to none. How will I face my wife?"

"Don't be upset," I was told by an old-timer. "The Rebbe will give out some more after Maariv for a short while."

"Thank G-d!" I exhaled. Immediately after the final "amen" of the services (or perhaps even a bit before, I must admit), I charged out of the shul and sprinted up the stairs to the Rebbe's office. I wasn't first on line, or even close to it, but thank G-d I could tell from the pace we were moving that I would get in. No sweat.

My turn came. The Rebbe sized me up with a rapid glance and turned to break off a piece of matza for me. Before he could do so, I quickly mustered my courage and blurted, "We have sixteen guests."

The Rebbe looked at me. Time froze. I froze. Finally the Rebbe spoke: "For the first Seder or the second?"

"The second," I answered, much surprised at the question.

"Then I can not give you matza now," the Rebbe declared.

My face must have registered great perplexity, or perhaps the Rebbe sensed I was about to faint. The Rebbe hastened to explain (and in English!), "It is already the first night of the holiday. We are not allowed to do anything on a festival or Shabbat in preparation for the following day, even if the next day is also a festival. Do you understand?"

I nodded, choking back my disappointment. But the Rebbe hadn't finished. "So come again tomorrow night after Maariv, and I will give you then. Gut Yomtov. A kosher freiliche Pesach (a kosher and happy Passover)."

Good Yomtov and what a Yomtov! I excitedly ran home to tell everyone what the Rebbe had said. Immediately after the prayers the next night, I proudly marched up to the Rebbe's door, whereupon his attendant, may he be well and live many more long years, refused to admit me. "The Rebbe doesn't give out matza tonight. Only the first night," he said, turning away.

"But the Rebbe told me to come," I gasped in panic. He clearly didn't believe me. In desperation, I told him the whole story. I could see he was still skeptical. He could see I was about to either explode or collapse. Or both. Finally, he agreed to ask the Rebbe. I peeked after him and saw the Rebbe nod.

How did the Rebbe know to ask me for which night I need the matza? I can't answer that. He hadn't asked anyone else that question: I had asked around to find out. I know only that I'm grateful the Rebbe made an exception for me, on both nights.

Oh yes. The Rebbe did give me a large amount of matza which I happily shared. I don't know about the other sixteen people, but over 25 years later, I still remember my matza from the Rebbe!

3

Ayal was the 11-year-old son of an Israeli diplomat who worked at the Israeli Consulate in New York. At a party celebrating the release of the Jewish hostages in Entebbe (July 1976) he had begun having severe headaches.

The doctor said it was a virus and recommended bed rest. After a few weeks the headaches disappeared. But then one day, Ayal woke up with a stabbing pain on the right side of his head. The doctor sent Ayal for tests.

For the next few weeks the tension and sadness in the air was palpable. Although his father smiled and his mother patted him on the head, he noticed their red and swollen eyes. Something was wrong. Ayal demanded to know what they were hiding from him. After much hesitation, Ayal's father leveled with his son, telling him the doctors had discovered a tumor. He did not tell Ayal that the doctors had given his son three months to live.

The eve of Yom Kippur, 1976. Jews had come from all over the metropolitan area to spend the holidays with the Lubavitcher Rebbe. They stood for hours waiting to receive honey cake from the Rebbe along with a blessing for a good and sweet year.

A friend who worked at the Israeli Consulate had suggested to Ayal's father that they get a blessing from the Rebbe. The Rebbe's miracles were well known, and what better way to spend the holy day of Yom Kippur than with the Rebbe. A Lubavitcher chasid who regularly visited the Consulate made arrangements for a place for them to stay, and now they awaited the Rebbe's blessing.

The Rebbe usually smiled at children, but that Yom Kippur eve he did not smile at Ayal. The Rebbe wished father and son a good and sweet year with a very somber look on his face.

They ate the pre-fast meal with the host family and then went to Lubavitch World Headquarters, 770 Eastern Parkway in Brooklyn, to participate in the holy day's prayers. The next day, as well, Ayal and his father were in the synagoguge most of the day.

The afternoon of Yom Kippur wore on. Ayal's father sent him to their host's home to break his fast and rest until Ne'ila, the final prayer of Yom Kippur.

Yom Kippur was nearly over. The congregation waited expectantly for the final prayers of the holy day to be recited. All eyes were on the Rebbe. The Rebbe suddenly raised his tallis and gazed at the crowd with a penetrating look on his face before turning to his secretary. The secretary then announced that all the children in the syngagogue should go up to the Rebbe's platform. Paths were made for the children or they were passed overhead hand-to-hand.

The Rebbe watched and waited. "Why did I send Ayal home?" Ayal's father berated himself. "He could have been standing next to the Rebbe! He left a long time ago. Why hasn't he come back yet?"

Hundreds of children were on the platform. The chazan (cantor) waited for a sign from the Rebbe to conclude the prayers. But the Rebbe was waiting. Suddenly another child arrived. It was Ayal. He was lifted over the crowd to the Rebbe's platform. Immediately the Rebbe led the singing of Avinu Malkeinu - Our Father, Our King. Those who stood near the Rebbe heard the Rebbe crying.

The prayers were over. The Rebbe smiled at the children, all of the children.

Ayal and his family bid goodbye to their hosts and returned to their home. Later that night Ayal announced to his parents, "My headache is gone. I want you to take me for tests tomorrow."

They had an appointment for more tests scheduled in four days time. But Ayal insisted that he was perfectly fine and that he wanted to be tested immediately to prove it. His parents were able to move the appointment up.

A few days later during supper, Ayal's father burst into the house and while crying and laughing managed to say, "You were right!"

Ayal and his father went to thank the Rebbe personally on Simchat Torah. The Israeli Ambassador to the U.N., Mr. Chayim Herzog, took a group of people who worked at the Consulate to the Rebbe, Ayal and his father among them. They were given a place near the Rebbe, who gave them special attention. When the Rebbe turned to Ayal's father, the latter presented his son to him.

"Thank you Rebbe. I am well," said Ayal shyly. Ayal's father emotionally added, "The Rebbe saved his life!" The Rebbe smiled and waved away the comments saying, "Give thanks to G-d, and always remember that He did this miracle for you."

Adapted from Beis Moshiach Magazine