REBBE, I NEED FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS!

I had heard that he had a story to tell but had a difficult time getting in touch with R’ Moshe Stern, resident of Beit Rimon near the Golani junction in Tzfas. Although he is not listed in the official Chabad phone directory, he merited to have a long-standing connection with the Rebbe and was personally involved in a series of astounding miracles

When I was finally able to locate him by phone, when he heard that I wanted to talk about the Rebbe he asked me to wait a minute because, “If I’m going to talk about the holy Rebbe, then I want to wash my hands first.”

That was a strong clue that I was talking to a full-fledged Chassid.  This is what he told us:

At a certain point in my life, I left teaching, which I had done for many years, and opened a Judaica store in Ft. Lauderdale.  Then I opened another store in Boca Raton in an exclusive mall frequented by a very wealthy clientele, though I wasn’t very successful with that store.  Most of the Jews there were Reform, Conservative or even Reconstructionist and had no interest in Judaica.

Half a year passed and unfortunately, I made hardly anything, to the point that I had a hard time paying the high rent.  As I did in every time of misfortune, I called R’ Chadakov, the Rebbe’s secretary, and asked him to submit a note on my behalf to the Rebbe and to write that I sought a bracha for parnasa.  R’ Chadakov asked me what kind of merchandise I sold and I told him, “Judaica.”  He wrote that in the note.

A week later R’ Chadakov called me with the Rebbe’s answer, “You need s’farim in your store.”

“S’farim?! I had albums, history books, and even Jewish cookbooks in the store and my experience was that no customers were interested in them.”  After thinking for a moment I realized that the Rebbe meant another kind of s’farim – books on Torah and Judaism.

The truth is, I was doubtful about buying books like that.  Who would be interested in them? The Reform? The Conservative? A gentile who came to buy a bar mitzva gift for his Jewish boss?

I called my wife Tzippora and told her the Rebbe’s answer.  “Jews here are embarrassed to buy Chanuka candles, why would they buy books about Judaism?” I asked her worriedly.  “Would anyone ever ask me to sell them a Chitas or a Gemara?”

Another week went by and there was another call from R’ Chadakov.  “The Rebbe wants to know if you have s’farim in your store already.”

I gave in.  If the Rebbe said so, how could I hesitate?

The next morning I went into the store with a notebook and pen and began preparing a list of s’farim that I wanted to order, starting with Chumashim, sets of Gemara, Chitas, Rambam, Maamarim, Hagados, and even Kinos for Tisha B’Av.

As I prepared the list, an elderly man walked into the store.  I got up to greet him and the first words out of his mouth surprised me.

“I don’t know how much longer I will live,” he informed me.  “I am 72 years old and I want to leave a special legacy for my grandchildren so they will always remember me.”

He looked well-to-do and didn’t flinch when I suggested that he buy ten medallions, one for each of his ten grandchildren, made out of gold and decorated with diamonds, at a cost of $3000 each, not including the chains.  On the medallion was engraved a likeness of Moses holding the Tablets.

“If you would like, you can also have your name engraved on the other side of each medallion so they’ll remember you,” I suggested.  He looked happy at the thought.

“Of course I want them to remember their grandfather forever…  It will be the nicest legacy I can leave them.”

I looked at him and my heart went out to him.  A yerusha for his children.  An old man wanted to be remembered and what was I suggesting to him?

“Listen,” I suddenly said.  “I like you and I want to tell you something candidly.  I don’t think a medallion is the ideal gift.  Maybe a grandchild has different tastes than you and me and won’t want to wear it.  It could get lost or maybe stolen.”

“You’re right,” he immediately agreed.  “Do you have another idea? Something better than jewelry?”

“I do!” I took his hand warmly.  “You are a Jew and your father was a Jew.  Thank G-d, the Jewish chain which began with Abraham our Father did not stop, but the time has come to worry about the future of your descendants.   Before you leave this world, you need to know that you did all you could so that this precious chain will never break.  Give your grandchildren the spirit of the Jewish people; give them the foundation, the laws of the Jewish people!”

I saw that he was moved by what I said so fervently and confidently.  Now I understood what the Rebbe meant about s’farim and I knew what I had to suggest to him.

“The most worthwhile legacy you can leave your grandchildren is a set of books like this,” I said as I picked up a volume from my Shas that I learned from when there were no customers (I managed to learn a lot).  “This is called the Talmud.  It is written in the Aramaic language but can be purchased with an English translation.  On the first page you will write a personal dedication to each grandson and granddaughter and we will put in your picture.  What could be nicer than a legacy like this?”

On the spot he wrote a check for $17,000.  Although I made a smaller profit than I would have from selling medallions, the pleasure I had when I saw his joy, and the knowledge that I had done what the Rebbe instructed, were worth more to me than all the money in the world.

The s’farim that I ordered came a few days later and I had to remove merchandise from the store to make room for the bookcases I bought.

People who heard that the store also carried Jewish books started coming.  They came to read, to buy, to ask, to talk, and I always tried to answer them honestly and always told them about the Rebbe and about doing Torah and mitzvos.

Before Pesach there was a big demand for Hagados.  The year before I had barely sold forty Hagados but that year I sold over 3000!

I called R’ Chadakov and asked him to tell the Rebbe that boruch Hashem, I had plenty of parnasa since I brought s’farim into the store.  “R’ Chadakov, it’s just amazing!”

On the line I heard him give a small laugh, “Nu, if the Rebbe said so, how could it be otherwise?”

TALKING TO THE REBBE

R’ Moshe’s daughter, Mrs. Noga Dobkin of Tzfas, relates:

Three years ago I got a phone call.  When the phone rings it’s not a reason to be nervous, but when it rings at three in the morning, it’s frightening.  I quickly answered it and it was my father.

“Noga, the Rebbe is chai v’kayam!”

I breathed a sigh of relief.  My father sounded happy.  But what made him come to this realization at this hour?

“What happened Abba? You’ve said in the past that the Rebbe is with us as before…”

My father then told me a story, a special story, like all the stories that happened to my father.

“I had to make a deposit at the bank of $5000 tomorrow morning, but I didn’t know where I’d get that money from.  After Shacharis in the Chabad minyan, while I was still wearing my tallis and t’fillin, I went over to a picture of the Rebbe that was hanging on one of the walls and spoke to the Rebbe the way I’m speaking to you now.  I felt that the Rebbe was listening to every word I said.  ‘Rebbe, I can’t get that amount of money through normal channels.  Please, help me! Help me get $5000 before my store closes today at 7:00.’

“After davening, I opened my store and waited to see positive results but there were very few customers.  Many people asked about items, asked prices, but I didn’t sell anything.  The hours passed and still, I did not despair.  I felt that the Rebbe had listened to my request.

“Toward closing time, a man walked in and his first question was, ‘How much is that picture in the window?’

“I stated an amount and the man nodded.  ‘Do you have other pictures?’ he asked.  I brought him everything I had and he chose picture after picture until there was a pile on the counter.

“‘Oh, I just remembered,’ he said.  ‘I need some presents for friends, can you suggest something?’

“I was happy to offer my merchandise and the man agreed to whatever I showed him.  He asked me to add everything up and it came out to $5000! He wrote a check and left.’”

Noga continued with her story:

“You see Noga,” my father exulted.  “I had to tell you this very evening what the Rebbe did for a simple person like me.”

The following night, when I went to sleep, I remembered the conversation of the night before and smiled.  When the phone rang yet again, I had a feeling it was 3:00 in the morning again.  I was right.  I answered the phone and heard my father’s voice.

“Noga, I am 100% sure the Rebbe is chai v’kayam!’

“‘What happened now,’ I asked him.  ‘Yesterday you told me the same thing.  Is everything okay?’

“Listen,” he began, and his smile skipped over the thousands of kilometers that separated us.  “Listen to an incredible story.”

I sat down.  My father’s stories are really and truly stories of faith of the highest degree. How could I pass on a story of his? What difference did it make what time it was?

“This morning I went to the Chabad minyan for Shacharis.  This time too, as I was wearing tallis and t’fillin, I went over to the big picture of the Rebbe in order to thank him for the $5000 he sent me the day before.  ‘I will be going soon to make the bank deposit,’ I told the Rebbe, ‘but I have a modest request.  Why did you arrange for exactly $5000 when I closed the store? You know that I have many expenses and that I am not a rich man.  Couldn’t a bit more have been added to yesterday’s amount?’

“That is how I spoke to the Rebbe for several minutes, like a son talking to his father. Then I went to the bank and made the deposit and continued on to the store.

“Noga, I won’t tire you with all the details because it’s late,” he suddenly apologized, and then it was my turn to smile, “but I wanted you to know that tonight, when I closed the store, I had another $5000 in the cash register.”