A CHASSIDIC WIFE AND MOTHER’S JOURNEY TO CHABAD

The story of a Polish-Chassidishe woman whose family became Lubavitch.

This article came to be, by hashgacha pratis, when I happened to meet Raizy. We exchanged a few words and in the course of our friendly conversation, I said I was Lubavitch. That’s when Raizy said, “We are also Chabad!”

I couldn’t help but be surprised by this announcement considering her style of dress and the hat on her sheitel. Raizy invited me to her home in the heart of one of the Chassidishe enclaves in Eretz Yisroel, where I heard her fascinating story. To protect her privacy, the names in the article are pseudonyms.

IN THE HOTHOUSE

I come from a Chassidic home that belongs to one of the very sheltered Chassidic groups. My mother escaped from Romania to Eretz Yisroel during World War II and my father came here before the war, for parnasa reasons. My parents, who were generic Chassidim, bought certain properties as per the request of the previous Admur of the Chassidus and in living here, naturally became his Chassidim. I was born here as were the rest of my brothers and sisters. Today, some of them live here and some of them live in other neighborhoods of the Chassidus in various cities in Eretz Yisroel.

Since it’s a big Chassidus, we don’t marry into other Chassidic groups. My mother-in-law, for example, grew up on a street parallel to my parents. This is why the Chassidus is very family-like and everyone knows one another. At the same time, the motto is tznius and of course there is no contact amongst the young people.

There are outstanding schools here for boys and girls, a kollel, a hospital, really everything. There is nothing lacking here from a spiritual standpoint. Since we marry one another and the mosdos are here, the Chassidim hardly ever leave the enclave (except for weddings perhaps); there just isn’t any need.

A person can go through all stages of life here, from birth till 120. It’s a very happy life which begins and ends here. There is nothing else. You feel that you are in a secure place and all is well.

Clothing is all important here. The girls wear modest, tailored clothes, the women wear a sheitel which is not long and a hat on top, and the men wear a shtraimel on Shabbos. The men have their kollel, so from a social aspect, they do fine, and the women have the role of balabusta. Although we don’t talk about it, there is some measure of competition among the women as to who is a greater balabusta. If I go to the grocery store, I know I’d better shut off my stove, because the ladies will be exchanging recipes, especially for Yom Tov. “What did you cook?” “What did you make?” Children need to be dressed to the nines, even on a regular morning, with ribbons and bows.

Most of the women here do not work outside of the home, since it’s one of our values that a woman is home. Today, because of the mortgages, there are women who go out to work or who make money by doing something at home, but the emphasis is the home, that there should be hot meals and the children should be neat and dressed in the finest clothing sewed by the mother. I remember that my mother did not go out to work and she would watch the children at home and everything was just so. The idea is also that a woman should be home due to reasons of modesty, and if you go out, you do so locally.

WHEN HER HUSBAND FOUND A TREASURE

So how did you make this big change when your Chassidus is so closed?

First of all, it didn’t happen overnight. It was a long process that took ten years. After we married, my husband learned in kollel and for some years he learned with his father in Chabad’s night kollel to make more money because that’s what was available. My husband is an intellectual type and he felt that he wasn’t getting the most out of himself. He felt that something was missing and he couldn’t express what that was. So he looked in all the Chassidic groups, checking them out one by one. He went to Lelov, Amshinov, and even more extreme groups.

How did you react to all this?

I didn’t limit him and I didn’t think overly much about it. It was only when he finally ended up with Chabad that I finally “got” it. Listen, it’s not the accepted thing to switch Chassidic allegiances, but if he had become Lelov, that would have been considered okay; but to become a Lubavitcher?! That’s so different, especially in dress; and in Chassidic groups the way you dress is all important. When your style of dress is tailored and includes a shtraimel, and you go to a Chassidus where the dress is not like that, it is hard to accept.

My husband’s ten year search ended right after Gimmel Tammuz. I remember how on Rosh HaShana he was still uncertain about where to daven and the final straw was the farbrengen that took place between Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur at Kollel Chabad with Rabbi Wechter. He called me from there sounding excited and he said, “I am here at the farbrengen and I love it. I’ll come home later.” On Yom Kippur he davened in Chabad and from then on he became a regular there. Nobody could understand what I could see; he was suddenly at peace. He was someone who had looked and looked and had found a treasure.

How did you end up accepting it?

On the one hand, I was very happy for him. On the other hand, I had had enough. My husband comes from a very strong Torah home. His father is a talmid chacham who never worked in his life and it looked as though my husband was following in his footsteps. But after he went to Chabad, I was afraid this would be a step down for him. I would keep on asking him: “Why do the women dress like that, without suits? Why don’t the men wear shtreimels? I don’t accept this!” It went against my worldview.

He told me that he found a chayus in the learning of Chassidus. I said, “So learn Chassidus! Why do you need to be a Lubavitcher for that?”

He said, “Torah is from the root horaa. You can’t just learn without doing.” I heard my first Chassidic concept from a Lubavitcher friend from school who said to me, “You went l’chat’chilla aribber.” I asked her what that meant and she explained, “It’s when you feel you can’t and it’s hard for you, and you do it anyway!” I related very much to this.

The inner transition to Chabad took many years for me. Outwardly, I projected satisfaction, but it was very hard for me because of the extreme change from a closed world to a more open world. It bothered me very much. Why did the women and girls go to distribute Neshek? How could they let their boys go on mivtzaim? I was unfamiliar with these things and it clashed with my weltanschauung. While I still had all these questions, I began going to Chabad women’s events in my city and even went to national events. I went with the approach of, “Let me see what you’ve got to sell,” and I came away mesmerized.

I didn’t dare join a farbrengen, as that would have put me in a more intimate setting. I only wanted to observe things from the sidelines. I was very impressed and I naturally began comparing what I saw with what I knew until then. For example, at every Chabad gathering I noticed a picture of the Rebbe and that they read a letter that he wrote. I would wonder: Why? What’s the connection?

We switched our children to Chabad schools because I felt it was the right thing to do. Every year, we switched another child. My husband is very thought-out and he made the change slowly. He knew that if it would be too extreme, I would oppose him. At this point, I was somewhat involved but it still wasn’t on a deep level.

What did your families think about this?

They were shocked and were very wary of us. My sister, for example, went to her mother-in-law and sisters-in-law but somehow skipped us. I once asked her, “Why don’t you come to us too?” She told me she can’t come to us because it’s no longer the same and we are different. They were afraid that we would corrupt them. But we were very friendly. Our relationship did not end. I said: If you don’t come to us, no problem; I will continue the relationship as always. I went to her; I wasn’t afraid they would corrupt me. My feet are on the ground. In general, when you are afraid, maybe it’s because you’re not strong enough … This went on for a long time. Today, this is the sister whom I visit a lot on Shabbos when my husband isn’t here or just to air out. They sing Chabad niggunim and her husband says over sichos from the D’var Malchus every Shabbos.

So the fear is gone?

No. Amongst our extended family we don’t go to so many weddings because, bli ayin ha’ra, there are so many cousins and every year there are several weddings, so it’s not much of an attraction, but when we made a wedding they all came to Kfar Chabad to see what a Lubavitcher wedding is like. They loved it. First, it’s a very lively wedding and there is a video of the Rebbe at the chuppa. They also looked at the tznius and the girls were modest. The mechitza was very closed up. It was a big Kiddush Hashem. Their fear diminished. They saw that it was okay, that they didn’t get corrupted. Do you see how absurd this is?

What about your parents?

At the beginning of the process, my father called us for a talk and he said to us: I want to be upfront and to tell you that there are enough Chassiduyos if you want a change.

I cried, because my father does not talk a lot and when he says something …

However, after we married off a few children he told my brother: Now I can relax. I see that they are doing fine shidduchim.

He passed on shortly thereafter. Now that he is in Gan Eden, he surely sees that we are okay.

Externally, we did not change anything because the Rebbe said not to change. But there were obvious changes like when my girls would wear the uniform of a different school and people asked questions. So many people asked questions that I knew what they were going to say before they said it.

When I would meet someone, I would preempt her and say, “You don’t need to ask. I’ll ask for you. How did your parents react? How did your family take it? How did you take it? What kind of sheitel will your daughter wear? How can your son not wear a shtraimel?”

All that occurred when they were young. Today, I can talk about it casually but back then it affected me deeply. At first, I would answer and afterward I would go off in private and cry. It was really hard. I had to be the strong one, but I felt that I wasn’t expressing who I really was. My husband would sometimes come home at two in the morning because he would be waylaid and asked about the change and he would calmly answer them.

Two years after Gimmel Tammuz I went to the Rebbe on my own. Ostensibly, I was going to New York for the wedding of my sister’s daughter in Williamsburg. I still go to her simchas every year and I tell my children, “I go shopping with her, but my main day is the time spent in 770!” When I went there for the first time when I was still wavering, I felt I was coming with the heavy burden of sacrifice. I knew this was the right step for us but it was so hard; it was me facing off against my family alone and I had struggles. I don’t cry in public but when I got there, I sobbed and said: Rebbe, help me!

When my children were in Chabad schools, I developed a wonderful relationship with the girls’ principal. I began opening up to her and I told her the hard time I was having. She helped me a lot. The entire staff helped turn my whole life around. At a certain point I even worked there in the preschool. I would say “Yechi” with the children but they were just words and I felt nothing.

Now, when I’m very close with Lubavitcher women, I’ve noticed that each of them is with her Siddur, and they sometimes daven even three times a day. I was used to t’fillos being short so that we can be available for our children. It may sound funny but now I’ve gotten more “into” davening. At that time I absorbed many concepts which are obvious to a bas Chabad but were unfamiliar to me.

The staff at the school was amazing. I am still in touch with them. But you know what? In Chabad, they throw you into the water. They expect a lot from you, not like you are doing anyone any favors. Even when you are on the edge and not quite Lubavitch, they already start to demand: Come to a farbrengen, why don’t you come? As we saw when they reported to the Rebbe about activities they did, the Rebbe wasn’t satisfied and he told them to do twice as much. In Chabad there is no letting up. I found it hard being a part of this, because inside, I felt I wasn’t quite there yet. As I mentioned, one of the things that bothered me was tznius. In school they were particular about tznius, but when I went to gatherings I would wonder: How could such a Chassidish woman and mekusheres look like that?!

ANOTHER PERSPECTIVE

Did you resolve this conflict?

Yes, but only in later years when I felt that I was in the right place and that what I said and what I felt were in sync. It took me fifteen years. Today I know that modest dress is indeed a problem. I speak with Lubavitcher women and they don’t deny it. There is a problem and it needs to be dealt with.

When I am asked about the dress of men, “Why don’t they wear a shtraimel in Chabad?” it actually annoys me. “What?! Does the world stand on that?” Or when they ask me, “Why do you still wear a hat on your sheitel?” I say, “That’s your question?! You don’t see a person? You don’t see middos? You see a hat?”

Today, when I am in Chabad, and they ask me about dress, I say, “Am I already okay that I can go over to someone else and correct them? I haven’t reached that stage yet. Until I reach that stage, I’ll let that go. Furthermore, I don’t know where the other person is coming from. When I see someone who is not dressed properly, it is possible that she is coming from a complete lack of tznius and this is progress for her. Maybe she is giving Hashem more nachas than me and in her head she doesn’t have all the nonsense that goes through the head of someone whose dress is very modest. After so many years I’ve made a switch in my brain and I think differently.

As I mentioned, I did not understand going out on mivtzaim. When my son was sixteen and he went from yeshiva on mivtzaim to the Central Bus Station in Tel Aviv, I didn’t oppose him but I was very nervous. I asked him, “What do you see there?” He said, “I put t’fillin on people.” I persisted, “What do you see?” He said, “I put t’fillin on people. I don’t see anything. I don’t know what you want.”

Now the subject is closed and I understand the idea of when you go to influence others, you are not influenced. In addition, you need lots of t’fillos that they should be successful.

What else about Chabad “grabbed” you?

So many things. I don’t know where to begin. I’ll try …

Before I worked in the Chabad preschool, I worked in a municipal religious preschool. I noticed the many differences between them. For example, in the morning there is a chair near the mezuza and the children kiss the mezuza. Then they give tz’daka. In the previous preschool, everything was very impressive, and here it was a small, wretched apartment, but the values they conveyed to the children were so much greater.

The conversations with Lubavitcher women are on a much higher level. They are always talking about the Rebbe. In general, in Chabad the concept of “Rebbe” is different than elsewhere. A Rebbe is not just a leader of a flock who gives counsel and brachos. The connection is personal and you live with it on a daily basis. In Chabad, ruchnius is also expected of women. What I was familiar with was that a woman’s place is in the home, which I think is very important, but not in an exaggerated way. For example, Shavuos for me was, “Hashem, I have four meals to make [In Eretz Yisroel – Shabbos plus one day of Shavuos]. I need cake. What shall I bake?” Today, I try to approach these special days of kabbalas ha’Torah with a sicha of the Rebbe in my head and more inner preparation, aside from baking a cake.

One of the many questions I was asked when we first started out was, “You’ll send your children on shlichus and then what?” Today, I have a son on shlichus in some “hole” in the world, and I know it’s a tremendous thing. We were guests there on Shabbos and I saw people who simply do not live for themselves. All the shluchim, and in my opinion all Lubavitchers who do shlichus at home, do not live for themselves. Each of them needs to be active and they teach this from babyhood.

What do little children do? They prepare for a Chassidishe Yom Tov. From a very young age they instill values in them. For Yud Shevat, my little ones listened to a CD on the topic around the clock. My son learned two pages of the maamer Basi L’Gani 5710 by heart. It was moving. I see that parsha with little children, taught with sichos of the Rebbe, deal with spiritual concepts that are brought down to their level. In school too, from the lowest grades the children present the quarrel of the mountains before Mattan Torah in irreligious schools. They are already on stage and have to speak and be shluchos.

Do you think other Chassiduyos can be influenced as well?

Yes, but very indirectly, because as far as they are concerned, they have what they have and why do they need to hear something else? For example, on Shabbos Mevarchim I sit with my sisters and sisters-in-law and they don’t even know that it’s Shabbos Mevarchim. The ones who go to shul are those who have married off all their children and are informed, but otherwise, they don’t know.

So I explained and they were taken aback. What?! Girls go by themselves at 7:30 and say the entire T’hillim?! What about kavana?

Then I have to explain that even if you say the words and don’t understand them, it’s tremendously important and effective.

In the past I would think, you’re right, what can I say? Or, maybe in my head I knew the answer but it wasn’t something I felt in my heart. Today, I can answer and feel good about it. It has become part of me. Today, if I have something to say, a story to tell, I’m not shy. I speak up, but all in a roundabout way, while speaking about this and that. I have to be very careful. I don’t know what is going on in their hearts.

One time, my sister had complications in giving birth and I told her I was writing to the Rebbe with the Igros Kodesh, and she said, “Write, write!” I wrote every hour that the situation was difficult and all along I opened to letters that said, “Mazal tov!” And she ended up having a big yeshua.

It all has to be done in a roundabout manner. There are many people here who secretly learn Chassidus. There is a young man here, a relative, whom my husband learns with.

Is there anything to learn from them?

Definitely. Tznius. I don’t know how to go about it but I think we can improve. Not just in dress but in behavior too, like when doing mivtzaim, it should only be women to women and men to men. We have to beware of losing our way.

Another thing: I see women who do mivtzaim, which is very important, but just as important is not to neglect the children. Mivtzaim can’t be done at the expense of the children; the children come first. I also tell my daughters, “You go on mivtzaim and to farbrengens; don’t forget there are mivtzaim at home too.” Since they know my views, they ask me ahead of time, “Ima, there is a farbrengen today. Do you need help at home?”

What gave you chizuk throughout all this?

It was the knowledge and feeling that we are in the right place. I don’t know what a baal t’shuva feels, but I think it’s that he came to see the truth and his eyes were opened. I feel that way b’ruchnius.

To conclude:

Ashreinu, Ashreinu that we have the Rebbe. When you know that you are connected and you’re doing the Rebbe’s ratzon, you know you are in the right place. We need to do more and more, each in his own way, because the Rebbe expects more and more of us until the hisgalus.