The Rebbe. The Train. The Smoke.

This article was originally published in honor of Yud Shevat - 5776 

The date, Gimel Tamuz 5687. The place, Leningrad, Russia.

The dusty streets of the city were awhirl with the sounds and sights of the hundreds of Chassidim who thronged to the train station to bid farewell to the Frierdiker Rebbe, who was on his way to Kostroma.

The station platform, packed with Chassidim, was also swarming with KGB agents and spies, their eyes and ears alert to the conversations and expressions of the Chassidim. Along the length of the station stood soldiers, shoulder to shoulder, arms locked, with bayonet tipped rifles, clutched tightly against their chests.

On a far side of the town, a Chossid could be seen, shlepping his young son along with him, as they ran through the narrow streets and alleyways, taking every shortcut possible, in order to come to the station before the Rebbe would depart.

The sun baked overhead, and the sprint to the train station was taking its toll on the father and young son. Sweaty and out of breath, they finally made it to the station, but were stopped by the row of soldiers who did not let them pass the police line.

The Chossid pleaded with one soldier whom he felt showed a shred of kindness in his eyes.

“Here, take this!” the Chossid begged, holding out a wad of bills, a large part of his life’s savings, which he took along with him this morning, in case he needed to bribe his way into the station.

The soldier laughed. “See my bulging coat?" He asked. “It’s filled with your bribes… our currency is worthless..."

Nevertheless, he let the Chossid pass. Yet, try as he may, the Chossid could not get much closer to the train. He could barely see the circle of Chassidim who stood around the Frierdiker Rebbe and were walking him to the train.

Soon the Frierdiker Rebbe climbed the steps to the train and faced the Chassidim.

The Chossid grabbed his son and put him on his shoulders. “Yankel! Look closely! Try and see the face of the Rebbe! Keep looking… keep looking!”

The Rebbe entered the train.

“Keep looking!” the Chossid kept yelling, “Keep looking!”

“But I can’t see the Rebbe anymore! He went on to the train!” the boy answered.

“Keep looking at the train” the father cried, as he tried to push his way forward to allow his son to get a closer look. “Keep looking at the train!”

The train started to pull out of the station, and took a sharp turn right after the platform.

The Chassidim started to leave the station, but the Chossid pushed forward with his son still standing on his shoulders.

“Tatteh! I can’t see the train anymore,” the boy yelled.

“Look at the smoke! Look at the smoke,” the father cried.

The Chassidim around him looked on, wondering if the summer heat was affecting the father’s sanity.

They said to him, “Der Rebbe iz shoin avek, s’iz mer nisht du vos tzu zehn” (The Rebbe has already left, there is nothing left to see…)

Through his tears and cries, the Chossid answered, “S'vet kumen a tzait ven s’vet zain di velche afilu di roich hoben zei nisht gezehn!” (There will come a time when there will be those who did not even see the smoke…)

***

As those who merited to be counted among his Chassidim, we have the awesome privilege and responsibility of sharing our Rebbes' teachings, warmth, energy and love with the world around us.

Let those who merited seeing the Rebbe’s face, share of his radiance with those who have not; let those who have seen the train, share his energy with those who have not; let those who have only seen the smoke, share of his warmth with those who have not.

What am I doing today, to inspire myself and those dear to me, to connect with our Nasi?

What am I going to do today to hasten Geulah?