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By Menachem Ziegelbaum, Beis Moshiach Magazine

I

Many Jews visit or wander through 770. Sometimes they receive attention from the bachurim or baalei batim who frequent the place regularly, and sometimes they “disappear” from the radar; they peek here and there, and go on their way just as they came.

Itche Meir, a young Chassidishe yungerman from Polish Chassidic lineage, came to “Beis Chayeinu” several consecutive Shabbosim. These were the summer Shabbosim of 5751.

Itche Meir was alone; divorced and father to an infant child who remained with his mother in Israel. After his divorce he traveled to the US to change his enviromment, to try to start a second chapter in his life afresh. He desperately wanted to escape the difficult emotional turmoil he had experienced for many long months. He rented a small basement apartment in Boro Park, hoping to integrate into the life of one of the many Chassidishe communities in the neighborhood.

But it didn’t work out. He couldn’t find his place anywhere. When things don’t work – they just don’t work. It was difficult for him to be gracious toward his surroundings, and therefore, the surroundings didn’t welcome him warmly either. The greatest difficulty was on Shabbos, when in the Chassidishe shul he frequented, yungeleit sat with their children running around them, and the family atmosphere emphasized his different situation.

One of his acquaintances recommended that he go to Crown Heights to spend a Shabbos in the company of the Lubavitcher Rebbe.

Precisely because of the differences between the courts, Itche Meir enjoyed it. He didn’t have to present a facade of “normal life.” He stayed at random places, but at least felt comfortable.

One of his hosts was Rabbi Nachman Yosef Twersky, a neighborhood resident of noble lineage. Someone had drawn his attention to the “lost” yungerman, saying it was a great mitzva to host him for Shabbos seudos. Rabbi Twersky happily agreed.

Beyond that, the two barely met. When they did, it was a brief random encounter of “shalom aleichem, aleichem shalom,” nothing more.

II

It was about ten days after Chof-Zayin Adar 5752. Lubavitch was stunned and still coming to terms with the new situation after the Rebbe went through a stroke.

One day, as Rabbi Twersky was walking on the main street of Crown Heights, between Crown and Montgomery (toward what was then the Doar store), he met our yungerman acquaintance.

“Shalom aleichem,” Itche Meir extended his hand.

“Aleichem shalom, how are you?” Rabbi Twersky replied.

“You’re the first Lubavitcher I’ve met today, and I wanted to ask you a question,” said Itche Meir. “Is there such a concept that the Rebbe comes in a dream?”

It was too general a question. It was clear that the question wasn’t asked just for curiosity sake. Till just weeks before, Chassidim still received direct answers from the Rebbe through the mazkirus. Only over the years to come would the miraculous “Igros Kodesh” stories and dreams of the Rebbe become more familiar to Chabad Chassidim… but in those days, it sounded rather strange.

“I’ve heard there is such a thing. The Rebbe once said that sometimes when the message doesn’t get through while awake, then it comes through in a dream…” replied Rabbi Twersky, “if I may ask, why are you asking?”

The yungerman hesitated for a moment, pondered, and then said, “I had an amazing dream about the Lubavitcher Rebbe.” As if in deep contemplation, he began to recount the dream, detail by detail.

“In my dream, I see myself entering 770, and there the Rebbe is sitting in his davening place, on the bima in the ‘mizrach’ of the shul. Along the shul stretched a long line of Jews who sought to consult with the Rebbe or ask for his blessing. One after another, they approached the Rebbe, and he spoke with each one.

“I too stood in line, and when my turn came, I stood before the Rebbe and said I was seeking a bracha to find a shidduch. The Rebbe directed his holy gaze straight into my eyes and immediately said:

“‘Azoi vi s’iz doch tzvei Adars, s’vet zein kiflayim l’tushiya, iz zi vet tsurik kumen tsu dir. Un azoi vi kumendike voch iz doch Purim, kol ha’poshet yad nosnim lo – az zi vet zich venden tsu dir oif Purim, vestu ir tsuriknemen.’

[= Since there are two Adars this year, there will be ‘double blessings,’ and she will return to you. And since next week is Purim, when ‘whoever extends a hand, we give to him’ – she will reach out to you on Purim, and you will take her back.]

“The Rebbe finished speaking, and I woke up in alarm,” Itche Meir continued. “I didn’t understand where this came from. From my perspective, remarrying my ex-wife hadn’t even crossed my mind as an idea…”

“Nu,” Rabbi Twersky pressed the man before him, “what is your question?”

“Is there any truth to this dream, or perhaps our Sages words ‘chalomos shav yedabeirun’ apply?”

Rabbi Twersky smiled. “There’s no question here. The Rebbe gave you several clear simanim: He told you that she will approach you on Purim, and only then should you respond positively. Well, next week is Purim – if she calls that day and asks to come back, then you’ll know the dream is true, and you should respond accordingly. It’s worth thinking now about what to answer when you receive such a phone call…”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” Itche Meir smiled with relief. “Shkoiyach,” he shook Rabbi Twersky’s hand, and they each went their separate ways.

III

Purim passed and Pesach too. The days of Sefiras HaOmer and Shavuos came and went as well.

A few days after Shavuos, Rabbi Twersky happened to be shopping at the Kollel Store in Boro Park. Between rows of shelves stocked with groceries, he suddenly met our acquaintance, Itche Meir. Next to him walked a woman pushing a stroller with a small child.

“Oh, shalom aleichem,” Itche Meir said excitedly, rushing to warmly shake Rabbi Twersky’s hand. “This is my wife and this is my child,” he pointed toward them. “I owe you the continuation of the story,” he said without being asked.

“On Purim day, I was in the basement apartment I had rented. It was a sad and depressing Purim. I hadn’t imagined I would ‘celebrate’ Purim this way.

“Suddenly the phone in the apartment rang. On the other end was a certain Rav. Yes, I knew his name, but not from happy circumstances. He was the Rav from Bnei Brak who had arranged the get.

“’The lady is here at my home,’ began the Rav after brief pleasantries, referring to Itche Meir’s ex-wife. ‘She came here and asked me to call you and suggest that you return and rebuild your home together. She realized that serious mistakes were made and she is willing to come back, no matter what. Since the divorce, her joy of life is gone; she didn’t anticipate how difficult it would be alone, and she is willing to give it another chance. Whatever you decide – that’s how it will be.’”

Despite the fact that Itche Meir had already rehearsed in his mind what he would say and how he would respond if such a phone call came, his tongue was still struck dumb. Intense emotion overcame him.

“Nu, what do you say?” the Rav pressed him.

“I am willing to return,” our acquaintance replied, “but we will rebuild our home here in the United States, far from the family members who worked to undermine the atmosphere in our first home. If she agrees to this, we will remarry on the yom segula of Lag B’Omer.”

The affirmative response from the other end came immediately.

“Mazel tov,” the Rav concluded the phone call, summarizing that “after Purim they would discuss the additional details.”

The woman indeed came to Boro Park with their shared child, and on Lag B’Omer they erected a quiet chuppa and remarried.

“Zi vet zich venden tsu dir oif Purim — She Will Call on Purim”… ■

(As heard from Rabbi Twersky himself. “Itche Meir” is a pseudonym)

*

Beis Moshiach magazine can be obtained in stores around Crown Heights. To purchase a subscription, please go to: bmoshiach.org

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