There is believing—and then there is believing.
The founder of Chabad, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi (1745–1812), would exclaim at moments of great inspiration, "A Jew neither wants nor even can be separated from G-d."
The Rebbe would often quote the Midrash's description of the Jewish people as "believers, the children of believers." Faith is not something Jews acquire. It is who they are. Period. Sometimes it is obvious this person is a "believer". Sometimes it is buried beneath years of fear, pressure, or distance. Still, the MIdrash says, they are a "child of believers" and it is always there, waiting to express itself when the time arises.
This coming Monday, the 20th of Av, marks the yahrtzeit of the Rebbe's father, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak Schneerson. We can imagine he was great man just by knowing his son, our Rebbe Menachem Schneerson. But let's take a look at this giant of a Jewish leader. As the chief rabbi of Dnepropetrovsk, one of Ukraine's largest cities, he inspired Jews to live proudly as Jews despite relentless Soviet persecution. In 1939, he was arrested and sentenced to five years of exile. Weakened by years of suffering, he tragicly passed away in 1946 shortly after completing his sentence.
Here is a story that took place a few years before his arrest:
One night there was a knock on his door late one evening. An elderly woman entered, looked around nervously, and quietly said:
"Rabbi, I have come from a distant city that I cannot identify. In one hour, at midnight, my daughter and son-in-law will arrive. They both hold high-ranking communist government positions, and coming here places them in great danger.
"I begged them to have a proper Jewish wedding. They finally agreed—but only on one condition: that the chuppah take place in your home."
Exactly at midnight, the couple arrived and were quickly escorted into a side room so no one would recognize them.
Rabbi Levi Yitzchak immediately began preparing for the wedding.
There was just one problem. He needed a minyan.
It was well after midnight. The streets were empty, and anyone attending such a ceremony risked severe punishment. Somehow, he managed to gather nine Jewish men.
Only one was still missing.
Now in the same apartment building lived a young Jewish man appointed by the Soviet authorities to watch the building and report any suspicious religious activity in the rabbi's home.
Shockingly, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak sent for him.
When the young man arrived, the rabbi calmly said, "I need you to be the tenth man for a minyan so I can perform this wedding."
"Me?" he exclaimed, recoiling as though he had been bitten by a snake.
"Yes," replied the rabbi. "You."
The young man quickly shut every window and closed every shutter.
Then, without another word, he took his place.
The ketubah was written.
The bride and groom emerged from their hiding place. The bride's face was covered with her veil, and the groom tried to hide his own face so he would not be recognized.
The blessings were recited.
The ring was placed on the bride's finger.
"Behold, you are betrothed to me..."
A new Jewish home had been built.
By 1:30 in the morning, the bride, groom, and almost all the guests had quietly disappeared into the night.
Only two men remained with the Rabbi.
With tears in their eyes, they approached Rabbi Levi Yitzchak.
"Rabbi, we are members of the Communist Party. But from this moment on, we are with you. We do not want to be separated from you. All of this"—they said, holding up their Party membership cards—"means nothing compared to what we experienced here tonight."
And what about the tenth man—the government informant?
Until that night, he faithfully reported everything that happened in the rabbi's home.
The midnight chuppah never passed his lips.
The Rebbe undoubtedly learned from his father what he would later teach so often: every Jew is a believer, the child of believers.
Sometimes people don't need us to give them faith.
They need someone who believes they already have it.
Rabbi Levi Yitzchak looked past the fear, the uniform, and the Party card. He saw the soul beneath it all. And when someone is seen that way, the faith that was always there has a chance to shine.
Shabbat Shalom/Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Yitzi Hein
ב"ה