In honor of the yahrtzeit of Rabbi Levi Yitzchak Bender, zikhrono levrakha (22 Tammuz), we are posting this excerpt from Rabbi Perets Auerbach’s unpublished English translation of Bezalel Friedman’s biography, Ish Chasidekha (Your Devoted One).
Chapter Four: The First Trip to Uman
The Destruction of the Torah and the Yeshivas
One of the serious outcomes of World War I, when
the very foundations of the world shook, was the destruction of the Torah and
yeshivas. For four full years the war raged, sowing devastation and destruction
far and wide. There was no place—city or countryside, to the ends of the earth—that
was not affected, whether a little or a lot, directly or indirectly, by those
casualties of the terrifying war, which left millions of corpses on the face of
the entire world.
The established bastions of Torah were
crushed. The yeshivas in Poland were comprised of students who came from
various lands and cities to congregate in one place of Torah. Now, with the
outbreak of war, they returned home in order to be close to their worried
parents. Even though, as the verse states, “and in rooms, terror…” (Devarim
32:25)—the dread penetrated the walls of each house and dwelled within each person’s
heart—nevertheless, it was not as awful as in the street. There “the sword
consumed” (ibid.), in the simple meaning of the verse. As a result, the
yeshivas and centers of Torah were emptied of their inhabitants, and their
gates closed until the wrath passed.
The yeshiva of Makov also began to be emptied
of its students and soon disassembled. The war began at the end of the summer
of 5674 (1914), and already by the High Holidays the yeshiva was desolate of
the students that it had once amassed.
Letters from worried parents came one after another
to the students of the yeshiva with urgent requests for them to immediately
return home in order to be together with their families. Many parents did not
rely on letters and came in person to bring their precious children home with
them.
Towards Uman
R. Levy Yitschak did not set his feet towards
his home. Due to the influence of his friend R. Itzik’l, his heart was stirred within
him to make the decision to hide in Russia and to travel to Uman for Rosh
HaShanah.
R. Itzik’l was duty-bound by his father’s
command that he not travel to Uman, but rather first return home. But his good
friend, R. Levy Yitschak, he urged not to compromise but to travel at any risk,
whatever the price.
So he said, and so he did. R. Levy Yitschak
packed his belongings, and with quaking footsteps, he abandoned the walls of his
beloved yeshiva; who knew if he would ever merit returning to it?
Travel by Lottery
This journey of R. Levy Yitschak to Uman, which
changed the direction of his entire life, served as a bridge between two
worlds. It was the “final hammer blow” of his joining the Breslover Chasidim, adopting
a Chasidut that with time became a part of his very being and essence;
he was conected to it with a strong and powerful bond, until his last breath
upon the earth.
He had already tasted something of the new
way, but this was only from “the end of the spoon.” R. Itzik’l, the genius of Lodz,
had already managed to illuminate him with a glimmer of that light, which began
to sparkle in his mind. But it was not yet wedged deep in his heart. He was
still straddling two doorposts, as he himself noted in midst of his account of
this journey.
He left with a clear decision to forge ahead
and to reach his destination—to prevail over all of the difficulties that were
bound to obstruct his way. He foresaw where this extremely significant journey
would take his life. However, it still wasn’t clear to him why he felt so
compelled. But it was as if a hidden voice screamed within him, “Hold on to
this, don’t let go!”
At times, R. Levy Yitschak would retell the
story of this trip with all of its details and fine points, “like one who
counts money.” He encountered barriers from the Evil One, who wanted to
disconnect him and distance him at all cost from the precious treasure that was
destined for him, and toward which he was traveling and drawing closer.
Therefore he took any progress he made in this journey as a special bit of
Divine Providence, and as a victory for the side of holiness over the
opposition.
Many wondrous and mysterious things happened
to R. Levy Yitschak on the road. Even after seventy years and more after that
trip, he still did not fully grasp its meaning. “Open miracles happened to me,”
R. Levy Yitschak would say, “and I want to tell all of the generations that
follow me...”
From Above, Looking Afar
We are not exaggerating if we say that this
story, with all of its drama, including events that were actually above nature,
may be counted among the great awe-inspiring accounts of disciples and their
Masters—due to the various obstructions and barriers that impeded their way.
The Evil One well knew what contribution R. Levy Yitschak would make to Breslov
Chasidut in the course of time, and that his coming close now would be like an
arrow in his eyes. Therefore he wanted to prevent him with all of his power,
according to what R. Levy Yitschak himself expressed to those that heard him,
“If I would have remained in Poland, what would have been left of me? But from above,
they look ahead to the future...”
These expressions which R. Levy Yitschak interjected
in the midst of the story shed light on the trip’s deep meaning.
The city Makov was close to the Warsaw
metropolis. One who wanted to leave it and go to the great world on the other
side was forced to first reach Warsaw.
R. Levy Yitschak was a young, delicate lad,
who had no experience with the trials of travel. With the bite of the bloody
war, he was suddenly uprooted from the warm spiritual climate in which he had
spent his last year. He stood at the beginning of the journey that began from
the great Warsaw, through which passed a train that proceeded in the direction
of the Russian Ukraine. However, it was impossible to predict the end of the
journey.
For it is self-understood that in these days
of destruction of the world war, when the streets were teeming with soldiers who
have not been inculcated with any “extra love” for the Jewish people—any trip,
especially for a Jew, would be extremely dangerous. Especially to cross the
borders of countries that were in the center of the storm…
“And so,” R. Levy Yitschak recalled, “after I
left the yeshiva which was closed with lock and key, I reached Warsaw, together
with all the people of the yeshiva, and from there, each person went on his
separate way.”
To Warsaw, R. Levy Yitschak remembered, came
the father of his friend and comrade, Itzik’l Otsvotsker. It was Itzik’l intent
to travel to Uman for Rosh HaShanah. However, as mentioned, his father prevented
him. “Come home with me to Lodz,” his father beseeched him.
“But Rosh HaShanah is coming soon,” the son
pleaded, “and I want to spend Rosh HaShanah near the holy gravesite!”
“You want to travel to Uman. I won’t stop
you. But for now, come home with me, and from Lodz you can continue on to
Uman...”
“Whom You Tested In Travel”[1]
“Stomach pains suddenly attacked me in
Warsaw,” R. Levi Yitschak continued, “Pains that took from me the ability to
stand on my feet. The suffering got worse and I simply fell on the floor from
pain.”
However, his plan to continue the journey was
not annulled.
“And He Did Not Recognize His Brother”[2]
Now he found himself in the center of the
city of Warsaw, in the glorious backbone of Gelevka Street. “There in Gelevka
my brother lived,” he continued his tale. “My brother, my self, my flesh,” R. Levy
Yitschak emphasized, as an expression of astonishment and amazement spread
across his face. “In my brother’s house I could have rested a bit, until my
intense pain passed and I rejuvenated myself. I don’t understand why I acted the
way I did. Who pushed me then to keep on traveling, despite all the suffering?
At that time, I still wasn’t a fervent chasid…
“Soon, I was passing right by my brother’s
house. The pain afflicted me greatly, it almost destroyed me, yet I didn’t so
much as think of setting foot in his house, not even for a short visit... WHY???”
Hold On To Yourself!
“I got up and grabbed my heavy bag of
belongings and kept going. It is still astonishing in my eyes. Who carried me? Who
supported me in those difficult hours? It was as if someone pushed me to
continue on my way and not enter, not even for a minute, not to rest in my
wealthy brother’s house and catch some sleep under soft blankets...
“And so I turned to the conductor. The pain
escalated above my head, but it seemed as if there was no other way.”
He continued on, although he didn’t know why or
for what purpose.
Hidden powers supported him. He prevailed and
steeled himself and continued—another step, and another step. It was as if he
heard the ancient Breslover voice that MoHaRNaT [our master, Rabbi
Nasan], may his merits shield us, heard in his dream at the time of his
wondrous coming close, when he passed through a chain of pain before he became the
“faithful one of the house” and leading disciple of the Rebbe, Rabbi Nachman,
may his merits shield us. The more [Rabbi Nasan] tried to go on, the more he
was turned back. Then he heard a voice call to him [in his dream]: “Young man,
continue to climb—and hold on to yourself!”
The Frantic Crowd
More than a hundred kilometers distance, near
the train track, already a long row of crowded people waited to get on the
train. A lot of them had been waiting there for many hours, and some for days.
R. Levy Yitschak joined the group of people
that gathered at the station, with crowdedness to hard to bear, with commotion
dancing in every corner. Pandemonium broke loose because of a report whispered
from mouth to ear that this would be the last train to leave Warsaw on its way
to the north, in the direction of Russia. No wonder all of the travelers wanted
to “grab” a place on that train.
At times the pressure and mounting hysteria were
so great that logic demanded that he completely abandon his plan. However, he
was strong in his resolve, and by the mercy of Hashem, new energies awakened
within him that fortified him and didn’t allow him to give up, but to stand his
ground and not falter—in order to reach the holy goal that he had set for
himself: the city of Uman. There, he would amass wisdom and Divine knowledge
based on the way of our Rebbe, Rabbi Nachman. There, he would begin to become
fit, so that one day he would be a worthy vessel and faithful mentor. For upon
him rested the burden of passing on the entire spiritual load to the Land of Israel—to
establish and build a faithful house to spread the light of the Torah of the
great Rebbe whom he was now breaking his feet to reach.
We can imagine the enormous loss to the
Breslover Chasidim it would have been if R. Levi Yitschak would have bowed in
submission and turned back, due to the awesome pressure that engulfed him as he
tried to reach the door of the train which would bring him to Uman... The moment
was great and ominous.
Could he withstand it?
“What are You Doing Here and Who are You
Here?”
According to the appearance of the mob and
the frenzy he had almost already decided that there was no way whatever for him
to continue. Would he really be able to push between all of these rough characters,
a great portion of whom were soldiers who cast dread on everyone near them?
But he did not give up. He decided to take
one step, and another step, and another step further... The pain had still not
let up... not only could he not go further, but even standing on his feet was
hard for him.
Suddenly a thought occurred to him: “What are
you doing here, and who are you here? Who is asking this from you? Turn back
and return to the house of your brother who lives close by, who yearns for you.
Go and rest your aching bones...”
Thus did R. Levy Yitschak describe his
reservations and doubts at that moment. And even though close to seventy-five
years already had passed since these events, it was as if he had just
experienced it all today.
“I Myself Don’t Know”
“And indeed, why didn’t you go to your
brother?” One of the group of listeners couldn’t contain himself, and he threw into
the air the obvious question.
“I don’t know myself” answered R. Levy
Yitschak without hesitation. And this not-knowing accompanied him throughout his
entire life. But he concluded, “You should know, if I had only entered and taken
a little rest by my brother, I wouldn’t have made it—he wouldn’t have let me
travel.” In his exact words, “If I would have gone to him, I would not have
been in Uman.”
And all the listeners well understood the
implication of the words: he never would have survived.
R. Levy Yitschak stood and hesitated,
thoughts flooded his mind: “What are you doing here, a young lad, alone by
himself among myriads of gentiles? How can you push into a crowded, overfull
train? Go back! This is not for you, it is not for your abilities!”
But in spite of being drawn after these
forlorn thoughts, his mind began to cook up a plan as to how to travel despite all
of this. After deeply pondering, it occurred to him that he could circumvent
this crowded stop by traveling by trolley to Otvotsk, one stop before Warsaw.
There, he thought, it should be possible to catch the train before it entered
into the city; there, it would be less packed, the crowd would be lighter, and
it would be easier to board the train.
However, when he reached the next stop, more difficulties
arose. Many others did the same thing as him, wanting to precede the train.
There was a further line of thousands of people by the station. Here too, the
chances of getting on the train when it arrived were next to nothing.
On the Last Train
The train arrived. As we have said, this was
the last train that ran from Warsaw to the north, in the direction of Russia.
It is easy to imagine the great frenzy during those moments when the train
entered the station. Into this complex web, we place our young traveler: beside
from the holy books in the shtiebl in the city and life in the yeshiva
in a group of refined students, his eyes had never seen anything like this.
At times, R. Levy Yitschak would begin to
list the succession of miracles that were brought about for him throughout life—including
this incredible story of how in the end, he caught the last vehicle before the all
of the highways were closed. Had he not caught this train, he would have been
left in Warsaw, and it is doubtful if he would have ever reached Uman, since
the war was protracted for a number of years.
Inside the train, conditions were worse than
outside. It was overfull with people and packed until there was no space.
People also snuck onto the roof, it didn’t matter where. When the train stopped,
the conductors found no reason to open its doors. Only its windows were fully
open, while the mass of travelers pushed to let in some of the fresh air that
came through them.
R. Levy Yitschak nonetheless pushed among the
multitude that swarmed outside on the windows of the train, not knowing where
his feet would take him to.
And the agony... the torment didn’t ease up
for a minute... a fearful war raged inside of him... these were the critical
moments of decision-making: whether to travel, or to return.
Amidst the pressure, stress and suffering,
his thoughts further began to taunt him: “Levy Yitschak, what are you doing
here, and who are you here?”
He prayed, “Master of the World! What shall I
do now, where shall I travel?”
Twenty million Russian soldiers were sent to
the battlefront! Great danger lurked for every Jew. And here a small lad,
seventeen years old, tormented in his suffering, filled with as many reservations
as the seeds of a pomegranate, all alone among this throng of humanity—how could
this one insignificant person manage to get a ticket? How could he possibly prevail?
“From on high, they see far away---” R. Levi
Yitschak repeated.
“She gazes at the goings of her household” (Mishlei
31:27).
“Our Rebbe says that when he wants to take
someone to himself…”—these words R. Levy Yitschak uttered seventy years after
that incident of the train station—“…and indeed, our Rebbe took to himself.”
The Hidden Hand
Suddenly he found himself near the window.
Without hesitation, he grabbed his luggage and set it on the other side of the
window—without knowing why he was doing so. Then something unbelievable
happened: Someone inside grabbed his luggage and took it inside.
R. Levy Yitschak described those astounding,
decisive moments: “I pushed among masses of people, until somehow I reached the
window of the train. It was open wide. I stuck my hand in... and while my hands
were inside, and all of me was outside, I was pulled inside the train!”
To R. Levy Yitschak’s astonishment, his
suitcase was swallowed up inside the train, and in its aftermath, he too was brought
inside. Someone was holding him with powerful hands. That person didn’t loosen his
grip, but dragged him inside the train, right through the open window.
In a moment, he was in.
When he told this part of the story, R. Levy
Yitschak would emotionally emphasize that until today he couldn’t conceive or
fathom the great miracles that were done with him, already at the beginning of his
trip. Out of all of those waiting for the train, among them physically
aggressive, strong men, no one but him succeeded in ascending and getting
inside through his own efforts, while he stood in his place without force,
without doing anything—and he alone, from among all of that great mass, for
some reason was dragged into the train.
Similarly, he didn’t know the identity of
that wondrous hidden person who reached out his hands to him twice: First, he
took his suitcase, and afterward he brought him inside of the train. And the
story is especially amazing in that before that person finished pulling his
whole body inside, the train already started to move from its place, as if it were
waiting only for him to go inside in order to start moving.
“From Heaven, they pulled me in,” concluded
R. Levy Yitschak.
[1] Devarim
33:8
[2] Ibid 33:9
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