“My intention was to jump…”
The first Rebbe of Chabad taught that if the mind is not filled with holiness, it will be filled with unholiness.
His great grandson commented that the same thing is true with happiness.
Either you are happy with Torah or your “animal” soul will find other not as acceptable things to be happy about.
Sounds pretty easy. Black and white, cut and dried. However, we all know that sometimes life is more complicated than that.
I do not believe I am alone in that one negative experience can often color a whole day, even a week, or unfortunately a lifetime.
We even might realize that we are fixated on an illusion, but are caught in a loop and sometimes those loops are more like a noose, seemingly impossible to get rid of.
Something like that happened to me. One negative event, connected with a few other “coincidences” and I actually thought some of my options were becoming more limited. Part of me said, “Silly, get over it”. But part of me would not let it go.
Then a colleague told me a true story. It does really help when you know the people and the places, but don’t worry, it is not crucial.
Rabbi R is the son of a well-known chasidic donor to Jewish causes and lives in Boro Park. Brought up in a very positive Jewish environment, and on top of work, family and Jewish communal responsibilities, he likes to go out and share good energy with others.
He regularly goes to a fairly large rehab facility near his home to distribute Shabbat candles, offer to help men put on Tefilin, ensure that people who want them have access to kosher meals, etc. Each week, he makes a few trips to give the patients the opportunity to do a mitzvah.
One year on Sukot, he walks into one of the rooms and sees there an elderly man, more than a little groggy in the middle of the day, probably from some prescribed painkillers to get him through the healing process after an operation.
The patient sees the chasid and, before Rabbi R can introduce himself, says, “You must be a Lubavitcher. I would not be alive today if it wasn’t for your Rebbe, but I do not feel like talking now. Come visit me at home when I am out of here in a few weeks and I will tell you.”
And so it was. Rabbi R came to the address he had been given. It was quite a large and fancy house in the neighborhood.
Rabbi R knocks on the door of the M family, which is answered by a respectable-looking Jewishly observant lady. He asks to please see Mr. M.
The lady does not know him, and it all seems a bit strange to her, but she lets him in. He enters the study and says, “Hello Mr. M”. The elderly gentleman does not recognize him and responds, “Yes? How can I help you?” Now Rabbi R is feeling a bit uncomfortable, but he explains that they met a few weeks before while Mr. M was recuperating. “You invited me to your home to tell me the story about how the Lubavitcher Rebbe saved your life.”
Now it was the time for Mr. M to feel uncomfortable. However, with apparently no choice, he begins his story.
“It was 45 years ago. I was in a DP camp after the war and had lost everyone. With a lot of effort, I was able to make it to the States. Things were very hard, but I finally started making some connections, found some work, and then it was suggested that I meet an appropriate match. I began to feel that life was beginning again.”
“However, a thought started bothering me. I had been at the weddings of my brothers and sisters back in Europe and I remembered how beautiful it was, how joyous it was with all the family. Now I was going to be married alone, an orphan on every side. It was like a bone in my throat. I could not get rid of the sadness. Soon I gave up on plans to marry and one day, decided to take my life.”
“I lived in East Flatbush and started walking across to Brooklyn. My intention was to jump off the Williamsburg Bridge.”
“On the way, I heard singing. It was Sukot, and the sounds were coming from a nearby suka on Eastern Parkway. Out of curiosity, I went in and saw a group of chasidim sitting around a relatively young man. Joyous singing, and then some talking and more singing. All of a sudden the man leading calls out, ‘Chaim Zelig, say lechaim!’ Everyone looked around not knowing who Chaim Zelig is. I looked around too. But then I remembered that my name is Chaim Zelig! When no one else presented themselves to the young man, I took the cup and said l’chaim. More singing and more speaking. And again, the leader said, ‘Chaim Zelig, say l’chaim!’ So, I said l’chaim again. And it happened a third time.”
“For reasons that are not entirely clear to me, I did not feel like jumping off the bridge anymore. I went home and got a good night’s sleep but came back in the morning to see who this young man was. Just as I was walking into the building, 770 Eastern Parkway, that very same man was also walking in and stopped to address me.”
“’Reb Yid’, he said, ‘You know what I always tell people? I tell them l’chaim and tuv levav, ‘to life and a good heart’. What does it mean, ‘a good heart’? It means, ‘Take it easy’. Take it easy.’ And he continued on his way.”
“And you see now that I took his advice.”
The person telling the story told me, that Mr. M has hundreds of children, grandchildren and great grandchildren, and not one of them knows the story.
So remember! Sometimes the message is, TAKE IT EASY!
Wishing you a very joyful Purim!
Shaul