Story and Newsletter

Rabbi N Bernard meets the Lubavitcher Rebbe. South Africa in Question!!        by Rabbi Nachman Bernhard (Reprinted from the Chabad Magazine.)

I received my Rabbinic ordination in 1958 and left for my first position in Wichita, Kansas. Once, Rabbi Yosef Wineberg came to Wichita on the behest of the Rebbe. I met him but I had no idea he was a Lubavitcher.

We left Wichita five years later and returned to New York when our eldest daughter was of school age.

The Orthodox Union asked me to be their New York director. I accepted the position. Within a few months I was asked to become Rabbi of the largest synagogue in South Africa.

Not feeling drawn to the Rabbinate and wanting to pursue my studies, I declined. But they insisted that I at least come and see the place.

After my visit, I read a friend's report about a lecture tour to South Africa. The report mentioned Rabbi Yosef Wineberg. The name rang a bell and I thought maybe it was worthwhile to hear his opinion about the proposed position.

I met with Rabbi Wineberg and told him my hesitations. He firmly insisted that I go there. "They need a young, dynamic rabbi like you," he said. Rabbi Wineberg didn't give up easily and suggested that I ask the Rebbe. "I would if you arranged it," I told him.

It was after 1 a.m. when I entered the Rebbe's office and saw the Rebbe for the first time in my life.

The yechidut [personal audience] lasted for over an hour.

I felt as if the whole world around us had disappeared and it was only the Rebbe and I.

This yechidut took place a year after I had left both the Rabbinate and the Orthodox Union; I had devoted myself to learning full time.

In the yechidut, the Rebbe told me that Jewish life today is being devastated, as if by a fire, and whoever can extinguish the fire, must do so.

The Rebbe pointed his finger at me: "You have no right to sit and become a talmid chacham [scholar]." I said that I could fulfill my obligation by giving a class, but the Rebbe responded, "How many people will you affect, 20 or 30?"

I mentioned I was offered a principal's position.

The Rebbe said again, "You will only influence 200 or 400 children in a big school. Hashem has given you the skills and strength to lead an entire community." He urged me to utilize my potential to the fullest.

I still resisted.

"I have already left an important position for the sake of my children's education. What will happen to them in South Africa?" By then, I had three daughters.

The Rebbe answered that the children of every Jew who devotes himself to communal work receive Divine protection.

The Rebbe didn't exactly tell me "go," but he calmed my fears about going to South Africa.

When I went out of the Rebbe's room I said to myself, "I may not yet be a Lubavitcher Chasid, but from now on I am the Rebbe's Chasid."

We arrived in South Africa in 1966, a few weeks before Rosh Hashana. Whenever I was offered exciting positions in other parts of the world, I asked the Rebbe.

The Rebbe always answered me that South Africa was my proper place, that I was there by Divine Providence, that my situation was improving, and that G-d would help.

After three years, the government wanted to throw me out because of my opposition to apartheid. I didn't call for an open rebellion. I just spoke from the Jewish heart and conscience. I said that we should work to bring about change legally and within the system. But the prospect of deportation did not upset me at all. The Rebbe had wanted me to be there, so I was. But if I was deported, I would be able to move to Israel.

The Rebbe "arranged" that the government wouldn't deport me.

In 1974, after 10 years in South Africa, I made plans to move to Israel. I wanted to see the Rebbe to ask him to recommend someone to replace me. Two weeks before my trip, my thirteen year old daughter told me that she was worried that the Rebbe would not allow us to abandon the community in South Africa. She wanted to write the Rebbe about it, so I agreed.

In the letter she pleaded with the Rebbe to let us go to Israel.

I allowed her to send the letter on the condition that she would write that I hadn't told her to write it.

I flew to New York and went into yechidus, which lasted an hour and a half.

The Rebbe told me how much I could accomplish in South Africa.

Everyone can accomplish best in his own milieu, the Rebbe said, but it is much harder to have an effect in an alien environment.

The Rebbe suggested that I remain in South Africa.

I let out a big sigh.

The Rebbe suggested that I visit Israel frequently.

I objected that these trips were very costly.

The Rebbe smiled and said that he would pay for my ticket, and continued to encourage me to stay in South Africa.

Again I sighed, and again the Rebbe asked me, "Why are you sighing? You are fulfilling a Heavenly mission! The hundred thousand Jews that you can effect will bring G-d so much satisfaction!"

The Rebbe also spoke about himself.

"Don't you think that I also want to be in Israel, near the holiness, but we have responsibilities..."

By now I knew that I would return to South Africa.

But the Rebbe wasn't satisfied. He knew that I accepted his decision, but he wanted me to be happy about it, "not as a decree but with joy and good spirits."

I asked again about the political situation in South Africa.

Would South Africa remain stable? The Rebbe said, "Yes, until Moshiach comes."

Shortly after I returned to South Africa, my daughter got a response to her letter. (see below!!)

The Rebbe knew that I spoke publicly against apartheid and that I founded an educational center in my shul to help blacks.

Several times the Rebbe encouraged the government to dissolve apartheid.

Once at the Rebbe's encouragement, I went with Rabbi Lipsker to speak to former Prime Minister Joe Vorster, who started making changes regarding apartheid.

A few months after our meeting, we were informed that the Prime Minister wanted to meet with us again.

This was several days before he went to Germany to meet Kissinger -- a meeting of paramount importance to South Africa.

The Prime Minister wanted to know "what does the Gentleman in New York have to say now?"

We said that he continues to give encouragement.

Many people in South Africa, Jews and non-Jews were strengthened by the Rebbe's assurance that they had nothing to fear because conditions would be good until Moshiach comes.

---

This is to acknowledge receipt of your letter of July 1st.

The reply in detail to the contents of your letter you will no doubt have received from your father, with whom I discussed it at some length. Nevertheless, I want to put down in writing some of the points and briefly at any rate.

First of all, I am grateful to note your concern, indeed profound concern, for your parents. This does not surprise me, of course, knowing your father and your upbringing. But it is nevertheless gratifying to see it expressed in a letter.

As for the subject matter of your letter, it is surely unnecessary to point out to you that when one thinks about the well-being of any person, including above all, his inner harmony and peace, one must obviously think not in terms of the immediate days and weeks, but also how it will be in the long run. This should be the consideration in regard to all affairs, but especially so when it is a question of where to settle down.

This is a very serious question even when one is at the crossroads, and much more so when one has already been settled in a place and contemplates changing it.

Now, with regard to your father, and knowing him, I have no doubt that he could feel in his element only in a place where he can fully utilize the knowledge which he has acquired and the qualities which G-d has bestowed upon him, that is, to utilize them in the fullest measure for the benefit of the many.

By comparison with this, personal amenities -- and I mean this also in a spiritual sense -- are not the decisive factor, and perhaps no factor at all.

All the above would be true even if it was a matter of conjecture. But in this case, after he has been so successful in his accomplishments in the past, there is no room for any doubt whatever as to the importance of this overriding consideration.

On the basis of what has been said above, supported by what you and all the other members of the family have seen of your father's hatzlocho [success] not only in your city, but South Africa as a whole, you will surely realize without any shadow of a doubt that your father will feel in his element and be truly happy if he continues his present situation in your country.

Moreover, it is surely unnecessary to bring special proof that the trend of assimilation, even assimilation in its coarsest form, namely intermarriage, is still very strong in all of South Africa, and that the work and fight to turn back this trend will still be required for a long time.

Fortunately, experience has shown that where there is a suitable and determined person with courage and determination to guide the young generation, the response is gratifying, and often highly gratifying. This has also been the experience of your father, who has succeeded, with G-d's help, to literally save many Jewish men and women from complete assimilation and to lead them in the way of G-d within the Jewish fold.

To return to you, I of course inquired from your father about your activities, as well as about those of the other children, in the spreading of Yiddishkeit.

May G-d grant strength in accordance with the saying of our Sage, "He who has 100, desires 200, and having achieved 200, desires 400." If ambition grows with achievement, even in material things, how much more should this be the case in matters of the spirit, which are the essential aspect of Jewish life.

I trust that you have read about the Five Mitzvah Campaigns which I have been urging recently, also pointing out that Jewish daughters and women have their part in these activities, and a very important part. I am confident that you and your friends are taking an active part in them.

With blessing, M. Schneerson

P.S. Inasmuch as I understand that your letter was written with your father's knowledge, I am sending him a copy of my reply.

---

An article by the wife of Rabbi Shabsi Katz, who for fourty years was the Rabbi of Pretoria, Capital of the Republic of South Africa.

My late husband, Rabbi Shabsi Katz, was the Rabbi of Pretoria, the Administrative Capital of the Republic of South Africa, for nearly 40 years. In neighboring Johannesburg, only 50 kilometers away, Jewish observance had begun to blossom in the 70's. In Pretoria, however, the Jewish community was sizeable but it was not very responsive.

The first time we came to visit the Rebbe was in the winter of 1972. The whole scene was new to me, so it was with some degree of uncertainty that I sat outside the Rebbe's office with my husband waiting for our yechidut ("private audience").

When at last it was our turn, we were told, "Only five minutes." But it was 40 minutes later, well after 2:30 a.m., when we came out. As we entered, the Rebbe stood up partially, and asked us to be seated. We said that we had been told not to sit during the yechidut. The Rebbe replied, "I won't tell if you don't tell." The Rebbe waited for me to be seated before sitting back down himself. I suddenly felt completely at ease.

My husband had written down the two questions that were causing him concern, and he handed the paper to the Rebbe. The Rebbe looked at it for a brief moment, made a couple of marks with the pencil he was holding, and started to speak.

At that time the Apartheid Laws were very much in place in South Africa, and although we were all against these laws, it was really only the Activists who spoke out against them, often courting trouble for themselves by doing so. My husband's dilemma was whether he should openly oppose Apartheid, and thus his first question was, "Should I, as an Orthodox Rabbi in the Republic of South Africa, speak out against Apartheid?"

The Rebbe began by saying that while he could find absolutely no justification for Apartheid, he wanted to point out that my husband's work in Pretoria was with the Jewish community, and he was well aware of the problems there. "You have assimilation, you have intermarriage, you have drugs," he said. "You have so many problems that weaken your community and its Yiddishkeit."

The Rebbe continued by saying that if you lived in a town and a fire was burning that threatened to destroy all the houses, it would be your obligation to put out the fire in your own house first before going to the aid of others to save their property.

He looked at my husband and said, "There is a fire in your community! You have intermarriage, you have drug abuse, you have a lack of Jewish education. You have so many things that you as the Rabbi have to attend to. Therefore, I say to you, put out the fire in your own house."

We had been living in Pretoria for nearly 20 years. Our children were growing up, and we had often contemplated the necessity of a more Jewish environment. My husband's second question to the Rebbe was whether we should consider emigrating to Israel.

In reply, the Rebbe spoke to my husband about his work with the lay community of Pretoria, the capital city. The Rebbe knew of the government contacts he had built up over the years, and he pointed out how my husband was able to use these contacts to the advantage of fellow Jews. The fact that he knew whom to contact when Jews, within his community or outside, needed assistance, was very important for the whole Jewish community.

The Rebbe spoke to us warmly, as if he had firsthand experience of what was going on in Pretoria, as he pointed out that one has to make sacrifices to be Jewish. He looked at me and said he wanted to tell me something important to me as a Jewish woman and mother. "You know," he said, "what it is to make a sacrifice to be Jewish. You know what it means when your children are invited to a birthday party and they can't eat there. That is a sacrifice for being Jewish. You know what it means when your son wants to play football but he has to go to cheder. That is a sacrifice for being Jewish."

That we must remain in Pretoria was quite clear. That my husband must continue the work he had done over the years or was the Rebbe's answer to the question of moving to Israel.

The Rebbe told us, "My experience in the military is the Navy. I learned that the last one to abandon ship is the captain.

"If you moved to Israel, you would be saving yourselves, but abandoning those you leave behind. If you stay in Pretoria and take care of G-d's children, G-d will take care of your children."

The Rebbe mentioned my husband's work as a chaplain at the army's headquarters in Pretoria. He said that in the army, the general must be there to lead, and only if the soldiers were led were they an effective force.

Toward the conclusion of the yechidut the Rebbe asked my husband if he was going to listen to what he had said.

My husband replied, "Rebbe, my experience in the military is in the army. In the army there are generals and there are privates. A private must listen to his general. Rebbe, you are my general. I will do as you say."

Immediately, the Rebbe replied, "Oh no! You mustn't do it because I said so! You must do it out of conviction!"

I remember it now, over 25 years later, as if it happened yesterday. As we were about to leave the Rebbe's presence, he said to my husband, "Remember, do it out of conviction... and with love."

Three years later, my husband returned to visit Crown Heights, and was again fortunate to have a private audience with the Rebbe. This time he took our oldest daughter, who had just turned 21.

My husband and daughter were dumb-struck when, as they walked into his room, the Rebbe said to my husband, "Well, are you doing it out of conviction?"

---

Perhaps one of the most common associations people have with the name Lubavitch is the Rebbe's mitzvah campaigns. Be it the chassidim who put on tefillin with the visitors to the Western Wall in Jerusalem, the self-sacrificing Rabbinical students who man the mitzvah tanks that operate in the streets of New York and many other cities, the girls who visit women in hospitals and nursing homes and give them the opportunity to light Shabbos candles, or the thousands of shluchim, both those employed in that capacity and those who give up their spare time to accept this mantle upon themselves, who tirelessly work to spread Jewish observance,- at one point or another, almost every Jew in the world has met a Lubavitcher who has invited him to perform a mitzvah.

Why such an emphasis on observance? Why not spread Jewish ideas, and let the actual observance of the mitzvos come totally on the person's own initiative?

First of all, there is a pragmatic dimension. Our Sages teach: [1] One mitzvah draws another after it." As the many thousands whose Torah observance has increased because of casual exposure to one of the Lubavitch mitzvah campaigns can attest, this maxim is as true today as it was in Talmudic times.

But there is a deeper reason that surpasses even motives of this nature. The word mitzvah relates to the Aramaic term tzavsa, meaning "connection." Every mitzvah is a bond connecting us to G-d's essence. When a Jew performs a mitzvah - whoever he is and wherever he is - he is uniting himself with G-d. The bond achieved at that moment reflects the fundamental purpose of creation; there is nothing higher, nothing more perfect.

For the Rebbe, these were not abstract points, but realities that he lived, and encouraged others to live.

Rabbi Shabsi Katz, the Rabbi of Pretoria, the administrative capital of South Africa, and the Jewish Chaplain for the Department of Prisons in that country, maintained a relationship with the Rebbe for many years.

In Kislev 5737 (Dec. 1978), he came to visit the Rebbe for the third time. At yechidus a few days before Chanukah, the Rebbe asked Rabbi Katz what was being done for Jewish prisoners in South Africa. Rabbi Katz explained that conditions in South African prisons were much harsher than in New York, but that Jewish prisoners were not obligated to work on Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur or Passover, and on Passover, they were given food certified kosher for the holiday by Pretoria's Chevra Kadisha.

The Rebbe asked: "And what about Chanukah? Can the inmates light Chanukah candles?" One must appreciate, the Rebbe said, how important it is for a person sitting alone in a cell to light a Chanukah menorah. One cannot fathom the warmth and hope this brings, and how this will uplift his spirits in such a dark environment.

Rabbi Katz promised that when he returned to South Africa he would begin working on the project, so that next year the inmates could light Chanukah candles. The Rebbe, however, was not satisfied, and inquired: What about this Chanukah?

Rabbi Katz pointed out that Chanukah was only a few days off. Since he was in New York, he doubted it would be possible to do anything. The Rebbe replied that when Rabbi Katz left the yechidus he should use the telephones in the outside office to make any calls that were necessary.

Rabbi Katz then reminded the Rebbe that in South Africa it was four o'clock in the morning; at that hour, he dared not wake the general in charge of correctional facilities.

The Rebbe did not accept Rabbi Katz' reply, saying that, on the contrary, when the general saw that the matter was so important that he was called from overseas in the middle of the night, he would be impressed, and would appreciate the need for Jewish prisoners to light this year.

As soon as Rabbi Katz left the Rebbe's office, one of the secretaries led him to the small side office in the front of 770. He showed him the phones and told him to make himself at home.

Rabbi Katz first called his secretary in Pretoria to find the home number of General Sephton, who was a Dominee of the Dutch Reformed Church and Religious Director of Prisons. At the same time, he asked his secretary to call the general and tell him he would soon be receiving a call from overseas. And so, when he called General Sephton a few minutes later, the general was not upset, but instead, inquired how he could help.

Rabbi Katz explained that he had just completed a private meeting with one of the leaders of world Jewry, who had expressed concern about the Jewish inmates in South African prisons. The leader had explained how important it was for the prisoners to light Chanukah menorahs, and how this would bring them warmth, light and hope.

General Sephton was moved. In spite of the fact that his office was due to close that day for their religious celebration, he said that if Rabbi Katz was calling at that time of night from overseas, he could understand how urgent the matter was, and that as soon as he got to his office in the morning he would send a telex to all the prison facilities in South Africa telling them to make it possible for all Jewish prisoners in South Africa to light candles this Chanukah.

Next morning, when the Rebbe came to 770, Rabbi Katz was in the foyer. "Nu?" motioned the Rebbe. When he heard that the mission had been accomplished, the Rebbe gave a broad smile and told Rabbi Katz that he wanted see him after shacharis.

When Rabbi Katz entered the Rebbe's room, the Rebbe told him that there are 50 states in the US, and all but one allowed Jewish inmates to light Chanukah candles. "Would you believe it," said the Rebbe, "It is only here - in New York State - that prisoners cannot light menorahs for Chanukah!"

The Rebbe asked that Rabbi Katz see to it that the inmates of New York State prisons lit Chanukah candles that year. "Tell them what you did, that they should learn from South Africa, and do the same here," he advised.

Rabbi Katz did not know where to start; he told the Rebbe that he did not know whom to contact first.

"Rabbi J. J. Hecht has been working hard on this project, and will know whom to turn to," the Rebbe answered him.

When Rabbi Katz sought out Rabbi Hecht, it was Rabbi Hecht's turn to be astonished. He pointed out that it was Dec. 24, and already past noon; nobody would be at their desks at that time. Could officials be reached at their office parties?!

But after Rabbi Katz told him about his yechidus with the Rebbe, and his personal call to General Sephton in South Africa, Rabbi Hecht relaxed. Past experience had told him, he said, that if the Rebbe asked somebody to do something right away, things worked out well even if the timing seemed bad.

After a few calls, Rabbi Hecht was able to locate the director of the New York State Correctional System, and found him in a jovial mood. Rabbi Hecht then introduced Rabbi Katz, who informed the director that Jewish prisoners in South Africa would be lighting Chanukah candles that year, and suggested that if this could happen in South Africa, surely it should happen in New York. The director agreed, remarking that if in South Africa, where Jews are such a minority, the prisons gave them permission to light, there was no reason why it shouldn't happen in New York. He promised to attend to the matter in time for Chanukah.

Rabbi Katz looked at his watch. It was several minutes before three, and the Rebbe would come out for the minchah prayers at 3:15. He hurried back to 770 and positioned himself outside the Rebbe's room. When the Rebbe came out for the afternoon prayers, he saw Rabbi Katz and motioned "Nu?" Rabbi Katz indicated that the mission had been accomplished. "I want to see you after minchah!" the Rebbe smiled.

Rabbi Katz was surprised. What mission would be waiting for him after minchah? When he entered the Rebbe's room, however, the Rebbe did not have another project for him. Instead, the Rebbe said that as he had done him a personal favor, he would like to do something in return.

Rabbi Katz was bewildered. He told the Rebbe that it had been a privilege and an honor to do what he had done. He had received so much in blessings and guidance throughout the years that he certainly did not expect anything more.

The Rebbe did not accept this answer, explaining that he didn't want to be indebted to anybody. So Rabbi Katz thought quickly, and asked the Rebbe for a Tanya for his son, who would certainly appreciate it. The Rebbe told him that one would be in the outer office shortly. When Rabbi Katz returned to pick it up, he found a Hebrew Tanya waiting for Rabbi Katz himself, a leather-bound, deluxe Hebrew/English Tanya for his son, "Challenge" for General Sephton in South Africa, and "Woman of Valor" for the general's wife.

When Rabbi Katz returned to South Africa, he called General Sephton. Before he could say anything, the general reassured him that he had sent the telexes the day he had received the call from America, and that the Jewish prisoners had indeed kindled Chanukah candles that year. When Rabbi Katz told the general that the Rebbe had sent gifts for him, the general said he would be right over to pick them up.

Indeed, within an hour, the general was sitting in Rabbi Katz's living room. Asked why he had hurried so, he replied that when a person sitting in New York thinks about somebody living on the other side of the globe - especially somebody imprisoned for wrongdoing - and seeks out someone to bring him light and warmth, he is a genuine leader.

"And if such a leader sends something for me, I want it as soon as possible," exclaimed the general.