THE LAMPLIGHTER
January 16, 2018
Menachem Ziegelboim in Feature, Life on Shlichus

Every Chassid is a lamplighter, but R ’ Menachem Mendel (Mendy) Hartman is an actual lamplighter. Every day, all day, he goes from place to place with his torch, with charisma, and lots of resolve, and goes over to people and lights them up with mitzvos. * R’ Mendy shares stories about chance encounters with people and the great light that he ignited in them.

Photos by Yinon SuissaThere are numerous Chabad Chassidim who go out to promote the mitzva campaigns, but few of them consider it their whole world, around which the entire day revolves. Not everybody merits to reach that level.

R’ Mendy Hartman of B’nei Brak is an accomplished activist who throughout the day (and night) goes from place to place, gets hold of people and enables them to do mitzvos. With some, he puts on tefillin; for others, he puts up a mezuza; with yet another person he enables them to give tz’daka and gives them a pat on the back that melts defensive walls. “For a Lubavitcher Chassid, shlichus is not just spreading Judaism; it’s also about spreading Chassidus and the ways of Chassidus,” he says.

He has no official title, nor is he looking for one. He is a Chassid who creates an environment and that is his role. He considers it the greatest possible honor and merit, and he agreed to share a number of stories with our readers.

Here is R’ Mendy’s first story:

CHANUKA ON THE STREETS

During Chanuka, I have a tradition now, for more than a decade. I go to Tel Aviv and walk around the streets, starting at 9:30 pm and going until 3:00 in the morning. I start my rounds with the restaurants and the small bars and cafes and then go to the big clubs. Everywhere I go, they welcome me and my crew who come along to do a hadlaka with lots of simcha.

We go from place to place and light up dark places and then move on to the next location. It’s amazing to see the enthusiasm and joy of those young people, many of whom argue with each other about who gets to light the candles and to say the brachos; to see the joy and dancing with the singing of “HaNeiros Halalu.” In most places we also say something over from the Rebbe about the significance of the Chanuka lights and their message.

At one lighting that we did in a pub, I noticed a young man sitting and staring intently at the menorah while looking sad and gloomy. I asked him why he was sad, and he told me that his mother is Jewish but his father is an Arab and they live in Yaffo. He said that he felt that the candles spoke to his neshama but he knew nothing about Judaism.

Of course I did not leave him until I had taught him to say “Shma Yisroel …” by heart. I told him that the more he repeated it, the better.

Another time, we met a girl in a restaurant who, upon seeing the menorah, exclaimed, “What?! It’s Chanuka today?”

“Yes,” I responded, “today is the third day.”

She said, “Wow, I didn’t know.” She apologized that her life revolved around the computer and nobody had updated her about the holiday, one that is so popular and beloved.

Not a year goes by without my reciting the “SheHechiyanu” blessing with people, even on the eighth night of Chanuka. I remember how, one year, on the eighth night, at 4:30 in the morning, I was on Rechov Ibn Gabirol in Tel Aviv. Outside the restaurant were some people and I lit the menorah with them. One was given the honor of lighting and saying the brachos, and he added a “SheHechiyanu.” When someone says “that He gave us life” it adds “life.” No doubt, the inner light shines, while our job is, as the Rebbe said, to provide the match.

Here is a fascinating story. It was some years ago when I was sitting at home and thinking about what the Rebbe Rayatz said “to listen to what the candles tell.” As I was contemplating, I was reminded of a story of a Chassid who became lost in the forest and walked toward the light that he saw until he arrived at the beis midrash of the Maggid of Mezritch. At that moment, I heard an inner voice say to me: Go out on mivtzaim!

Where should I go? To Ramat Gan? To Givatayim? To Tel Aviv? Where in Tel Aviv? Then I made a decision. I would go to the port, the port of Tel Aviv.

I rode my electric bicycle to Tel Aviv and forty minutes later I was there. I noticed a commotion and went over and asked what was going on. I saw Danny Roop, a broadcaster from Channel Two television, standing there, surrounded by soldiers who made aliya from Australia to serve in the Israeli army. They were about to start a Chanuka ceremony in which they would supposedly light a menorah on live television in front of hundreds of thousands of viewers. But what sort of ceremony and how would they light? It was a spectacle without any Jewish symbolism, and with an electric menorah to boot, which a computer program would light on the wall of the port.

I did not hesitate and went right over to Danny Roop and with a big smile I said, “Soldiers represent fiery energy, live fire.”

“Definitely,” he said.

“Then they need to light with real fire. Come, let’s do a real menorah lighting.”

He loved the idea. I went over to the production crew who asked me if I have a menorah. I said I did. “Then come back in 15 minutes and in the meantime, we’ll set up.”

The port administration suddenly realized that it would be more worthwhile to light a real menorah than have an artificial production, so they went to the office and brought back a large, respectable menorah.

Of course, we did a proper menorah lighting with a bracha and enormous pirsumei nissa.

In general, wherever I go, I see how “awake” the Jewish heart is, as the Rebbe says. The heart is already alight, ready for the Geula; it’s just that sometimes it seems to be dimmed and then Lubavitchers come and bring the match and ignite the soul. I saw it when the Leftist port people ran to their office to bring a nice menorah; Judaism is something natural in everyone’s heart and it is our privilege to direct everyone toward the menorah, to p’nimius and to the goal: the light of the Geula shleima.

All this from a small flame attached to the yechida klalis of the Rebbe MH”M, which “told me” the story and pushed me to immediately go to Tel Aviv to the right place at the right time. The world is ready – go out and illuminate!

THE MISNAGDIM ALSO CELEBRATE YUD-TES KISLEV

The following story happened on Yud-Tes Kislev of this year.

The Rebbe explains that the greatest “pada b’shalom” is when his enemies make peace with him, even the Misnagdim become shluchim to spread the light of Chassidus, and as the Alter Rebbe promised, Chassidus will belong to all.

This year, I saw it in real life.

While setting up the tables for the farbrengen and seudas mitzva at the Chabad shul in Pardes Katz/B’nei Brak, a Litvishe fellow walked in. He asked me to help him find the traditional maamer, “Pada b’Shalom,” which is learned at the Yud-Tes Kislev farbrengen. I told him there isn’t one specific maamer that is learned; there are many maamarim that begin that way and at the farbrengens, one of these maamarim are reviewed.

He then explained, “My friend and I give a shiur in the Daf Yomi every day to a Mizrachi crowd. That day, they asked that since tomorrow is Yud-Tes Kislev and a holiday, that we have a farbrengen with them. The truth is, I don’t know how to make a farbrengen. I bought mashke … What else do you do at a farbrengen? What niggun do you sing?”

I asked him what sort of people they were and he told me they were a group of businessmen in the new neighborhoods of Kfar Ganim and Petach Tikva. The shiur takes place at 5:30 in the morning in their shul.

I suggested that he prepare a thought on Yud-Tes Kislev and gave him some points to say. He saw that I cared about this and suggested that I come and farbreng with them. I told him I didn’t know when our farbrengen would end that night and anyway, how would I get there?

He offered to call to wake me up and said he would come and pick me up at 5:00. I said okay.

The farbrengen at the Chabad shul ended about four in the morning and I went to take a nap on a bench in the shul. At five he came with his friend to pick me up.

The crowd was indeed mostly Mizrachi, middle aged people with families. I had half an hour to speak, from 5:30 until 6:00, which is when the first people showed up for Shacharis.

The Litvishe fellow suggested that they learn Gemara for a few minutes and then they would say l’chaim. On the table were plenty of refreshments and everyone was in a festive mood. Even the Litvishe organizers were happy that they could please the attendees of the class and had brought a Chabadnik to farbreng.

(When we learned by the mashpia, R’ Chaim Ashkenazi a”h, in the yeshiva in Lud, already thirty years ago he told us, “When Moshiach comes, the Misnagdim and the world will run after us to teach them Chassidus.” We considered it a joke, but this is what happened!)

I taught an os from a maamer and sang, “Pada b’Shalom.” Then the Litvishe guy began singing “U’faratzta” and we all got up and danced. Then the crowd said l’chaim again. The whiskey was finished so they poured me arak. I just kept going with bittul and sang the “Dalet Bavos” with them. I felt I was on shlichus from the Alter Rebbe and the Rebbe and now they were joining me in the farbrengen.

Then the organizer said he wanted to read something. He opened his phone and read something that explained what Yud-Tes Kislev is about and wished everyone a “gut yom tov, l’shana tova b’limud ha’Chassidus u’b’darchei ha’Chassidus” and it was all said simply and sincerely.

No doubt, in Heaven too there was joy and dancing from these people who were not educated in Chabad, yet joined in the simcha together with the baal ha’simcha v’ha’geula.”

Indeed, didan d’Rabboseinu notzach.

THE MAYOR ENCOURAGED THE PUBLIC BLOWING OF THE SHOFAR

Moving on to other seasonal stories, the following took place during the season of “the King in the field.”

One of the places I patrol is Rechov Katznelson in Givatayim, the main street, with lots of stores.

I once met the mayor there just as I was blowing the shofar. He was very happy and asked me to blow for him. I introduced myself as “Mendy from Chabad” and said I had a tradition for over a decade of walking on Rechov Katznelson and blessing Jews with the shofar and that people really loved it.

We did t’kios with a minyan, with many people standing around him who came to be inspired by the Rebbe’s “big shofar,” a shofar whose sound reaches every Jew!

THE MEMORIAL THAT TOUCHED A JEWISH HEART

Two years ago, on Rosh Chodesh Elul 5776, I was at a tefillin stand that I set up in the courthouse mall in Tel Aviv. The lawyer Elkana Bishitz (see photo) walked by. He’s a brilliant lawyer who helped a lot of people with his pro bono work for those of limited means. As he passed by, he asked if he could blow the shofar and I showed him how to do it. I had a picture taken.

In Sivan 5777, he was traveling from Yerushalayim to Tel Aviv on his motorcycle. Near the Modiin junction, a truck suddenly made a dangerous turn and Bishitz, who couldn’t stop in time, slammed into the truck and was killed on the spot.

Three months later, in Elul of this past year, a friend sent me the picture and suggested that I go to his office to share the picture with his partners. Since I was in the area, I went up to his office in the BSR Towers in B’nei Brak where I met his religious partner. I showed him the picture and asked him to give it to his family.

Before leaving the office, I asked, as I always do, whether there was another partner who is not religious. He said yes, and that his office was at the end of the hall. “But he’s a heretic …”

I went to the fellow’s office and as soon as he saw me he asked in a tough voice, “Yes, what are you looking for?” He was on the phone and motioned that I should leave until he finished. I waited for 15 minutes in the hall until he finished and then introduced myself. I told him that it was Rosh Chodesh Elul and that in this month we blow the shofar. I said it would provide closure to blow the shofar in the office, l’ilui nishmaso.

He said, “If it’s l’ilui nishmas Elkana, I’m willing.”

I said that now we have a defense lawyer up Above who will speak well of us. I took out the shofar, closed my eyes and blew. The man had a grin from ear to ear and even took out some shekels for tz’daka. I took out a pushka and said, “Keep this in your office l’ilui nishmaso.

I took the opportunity, “How about tefillin?”

He was still blushing and out of sorts, “Thank you, thank you,” he said while raising his hand as though to say, “That’s enough.”

I told him I’d be back before Yom Kippur to put on tefillin with him, once a year, l’ilui nishmas Elkana, and he nodded his agreement.

That’s the way it is when you go on the Rebbe’s shlichus. Even the “heretic” melts like wax and the light of his neshama shines through. You just need to ignite your own spark and go without fear to ignite that of others.

MIRACLE DOLLAR

13 years ago, I became active in Ramat Gan after the shliach, R’ Motti Gal a”h, appointed me to be a shliach to the businessmen, to go to them with tefillin and uplifting messages. Actually, I am not a lone operator, since the Rebbe made all his Chassidim shluchim, and everyone is meant to illuminate himself and his environment with the light of a mitzva and the light of Torah.

The following story took place ten years ago when I went to an office on Rechov Arlozorov in Ramat Gan. I met the owner who was happy to put on tefillin and to hear about the Rebbe and his work.

After a few visits there, I noticed that the secretary, who had always been there, was absent. When she returned, I asked where she had been, and she told me that she had fallen at home. When she was taken to the hospital, they discovered that she had epilepsy. “It is causing me a lot of anxiety, not only because of the disease, but because I have a fiancé I’m supposed to marry.”

Her story touched me and I shared in her pain. It made me feel that she needed a special bracha. When I went the next time, I took out a dollar that I had gotten from the Rebbe and decided to give it to her for a blessing and protection. I gave it with all my heart, believing that the Rebbe would now be a source of support and blessing to her.

Time passed and the business eventually closed. Unfortunately, I did not bother to keep in touch. Half a year later, I was curious about what happened with the dollar. I remembered that I had included the secretary in my wife’s texting list (that’s a success story in itself – my wife sends Chassidic content on the parsha to several groups, content that provides strength for daily life, and also candle-lighting times).

I asked my wife to speak to her and find out how she was. The woman said that the dollar had helped and she was fully free of the disease. When the woman saw the segula-powers of the dollar, she decided to help a friend of hers who had been married for several years and still had no children. She gave her the dollar. She told her it was a dollar from the Lubavitcher Rebbe and wished her bracha and hatzlacha.

The couple had a baby. This couple passed the dollar on to another couple and now she had no idea where the dollar was and how many people it had helped. We got “regards” from the Rebbe who is chai v’kayam and bringing salvation to the Jewish people.

ONE MITZVA LEADS TO MANY MITZVOS

This past Adar, I visited the barbershop of a friend of mine. It was close to sunset, and I stood outside on the porch, waiting for his worker to finish a haircut and become available to put on tefillin. Literally, in the final minutes before sunset, he came outside. I felt myself breathing more easily. We managed to put on tefillin before sunset, and I was glad that yet another Jew put on tefillin.

Suddenly, an older man in his late sixties came outside, and asked me simply and humbly to teach him how to put on tefillin, as he unbuttoned his sleeve. I said to him, “I will teach you happily, but before that let’s put them on before it gets too late.” As I was talking, I began putting the tefillin on his arm. Before the tying and the blessing, I asked him, “How long since you last put them on?”

His answer was, “Forty years!”

After we finished putting them on, literally moments before sunset, I said to him, “Listen, it is not every day that a person puts on tefillin with me after forty years. In honor of the occasion, I need to bring some good whiskey to say ‘l’chaim.’” He immediately responded, “No, I’ll bring it.” He went inside and brought out a bottle of quality whiskey and we made a “l’chaim.”

As is my wont, I immediately looked for a way to continue the connection, and asked him, “Do you have a business or an office here in the area?” He answered in the affirmative, “Yes, I own a hotel.” He told me that his name is Avner and he also manages an insurance company. That is how I got to his office, where we sat down to talk, and I had the opportunity to infuse him with bitachon regarding an upcoming court case he was facing.

Over time, we developed a good connection, including with his son and son-in-law, the chairman of his company.

This son-in-law is extremely tall, 2.06 meters (6 feet 9 inches), and when I saw him for the first time I thought that it would be an experience to put tefillin on with him. He did in fact promise that the next time I came he would put them on. It was indeed a bit of a challenge to reach his head, and when his secretary saw me trying to put a yarmulke on his head, she asked if I needed a chair.

Pictures of this encounter were posted on a Chabad website under the headline “Daily Tefillin – A Mitzva Stretch.”

Avner also told me that he had been to see the Rebbe, and when his son was born – he said, pointing to his son – “We gave him the name Din. When a friend of my wife heard about this, she told her, ‘You should know that Din (meaning law or judgment) is not a good name.’ Then she told my wife that a year earlier, another friend of hers had given that name to her son, and the child did not live very long.

“Obviously, my wife was distressed and felt like she was in a bind. We sent a fax to the Lubavitcher Rebbe, asking if we should change the name. The Rebbe answered (we have the letter somewhere, but we would have to search the house) not to change the name, and on the contrary, ‘Din’ should be ‘Din Torah!’”

I looked at the young man, and he did in fact appear to be quite refined.

I saw then clear divine providence, how the Rebbe directs people to you, and all you need to do is step out of your own little space to reach out to Jewish souls.

DISINFECTING THE TEFILLIN

A few weeks ago, I met a Jew in a falafel store who spoke “glowingly” about Chareidi Jews, and did not seem to run out of “flattering” things to say about them.

I turned to him with a question, “Did you put on tefillin today?”

In response, he said, “I have a question for you that I asked the past week of the bachurim who man the tefillin stand, and I asked the same question at the local Chabad center near my home, but they had no answer for me.”

He continued, “I asked the Lubavitcher bachur at the tefillin stand, ‘How many people did you put tefillin on with today?’ He responded with the number 100. ‘So, you expect of me that after the tefillin have been passed from head to head of so many people, I should put them on? Maybe one of them had some skin disease, germs or whatever.’

“And now I am asking you,” he said to me, “You already convinced me to put on tefillin from the moment that you addressed me as ‘tzaddik.’ I am actually prepared to put on tefillin, but I have a problem. Nu, Mendy, what do you say to that?” he concluded with a smirk.

In all honesty, my first instinct was that he needs to be responded to accordingly, and to ask him a wise guy question, “Have you already disinfected your words and thoughts?” Or maybe to say, “Listen, my friend, the Rebbe already took upon himself any possible health issues, and nothing will happen to you. Try it out and you will see. It comes with a natural disinfectant.” (Interestingly, during our later conversation, he revealed to me that the only person that he admires in the Jewish world is the Rebbe, and that he even has three dollar bills that he received directly from the Rebbe and would not sell them to anyone.)

But before I could respond, the image of the Rebbe passed before my eyes, and I thought to myself, if I were to pass by the Rebbe now and tell him this story, what would the Rebbe’s response be to such a problem.

The Rebbe taught us to think outside of the box, and not to tell a Jew, “It’s no big deal, there is no problem here.” Maybe there is a problem. We need to come up with a suitable solution so that, bottom line, the man will happily put on tefillin.

And then the Rebbe’s smile flashed in my mind along with an answer.

I said to him, “Wait here a few minutes.” Crossing the street, I went into a chain store pharmacy and returned with a bottle of alcohol. “I brought you special disinfectant for tefillin,” I told him, thinking to myself that the whole reason for the existence of that pharmacy was so that a Jew would put on tefillin.

And so, with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol, I gingerly wiped down the area of the tefillin which touches the body.

“What percent alcohol is that?” he asked challengingly.

“70 percent.”

“Nu, that’s good enough.”

“And I even have a brand new kippa for you,” I added.

And the tefillin went on his arm and head (see photo).

“Oh, how nice! Ten and a half years I have not put on tefillin. Tell your Chabadnik friends that you are an original…”

COURT CASE OVER THE REBBE DOLLAR

This morning (day of the interview), a friend sent me a text message, “Worker in ‘Ketzir Chittim’ bakery on Jabotinsky in B’nei Brak, stuck without tefillin. He wants to put on tefillin and will be there until 11 pm. I am not in the city. Copy and paste.”

I responded, “Be there in 5 minutes, Chabad commando on the way to him.”

The counter person was alone in the store and was very happy that I came. He immediately took out a bill for tz’daka without my asking. He had a yarmulke on his head, no beard, and he said to me, “I am particular about putting on tefillin, but today I got stuck.” “It’s fine,” I said, “feel good, I have all the time in the world for you.” I offered to help him with the Chabad knot on the tefillin, but he said that he can manage on his own, and he put them on happily.

When he finished putting them on, I figured that he would take out a Sefardi siddur to say “Shma Yisroel,” but to my surprise, he took out a Chitas without a cover, and told me, “I am never without this.” And like in the story of Yosef, he said to me, “I recognize you, we went to school together in the past,” and he told me his name. A single fellow, 41 years old, who speaks about the Rebbe like an impassioned Chassid.

Upon taking off the tefillin, he said to me, “Today, the Rebbe is even more active.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I have a load of stories with the Rebbe,” he answered. “I am out in the world, and the Rebbe is felt more than we felt and experienced him when we were young.”

Interesting. If that is what the world is saying, who are we to argue?! We just need to go with the flow, to believe and to nullify ourselves to the holy work of the Rebbe. In the end, he runs it all and accompanies us to every place. The Rebbe is the bread of sustenance for Chassidim who are starving, and until we see him again with our eyes of flesh, and hear his teachings, we remain starved.

I tried to get the fellow to share with me about his daily connection to the Rebbe. He pointed out that he does not make a move without the Rebbe. On every issue, the Rebbe guides him with exact answers by way of the Igros Kodesh.

I asked him for an example, and he told me that for a long time he davened in the Chabad shul in one of the large cities in the country, but he felt that he was lacking chayus there. He wrote to the Rebbe from the depths of his heart that he felt a lack of chayus in the shul. Not a few weeks passed when suddenly a young crowd began to show up in shul. They literally changed the shul around, renovating the physical facilities, and organizing farbrengens.

Then he told a story that illustrates the power of a Chassidic soul. In the past, he received a number of dollars from the Rebbe, and he gave them out to people that he cared about.

He gave one of the dollars to the head of a Litvishe kollel (name redacted for privacy reasons). That rabbi was in touch with him, and when he saw the rabbi looking dejected, he asked him the reason. The Litvishe rabbi told him that his wife had not conceived for quite a few years, despite the many efforts they had made in the matter, but nothing seemed to help. That is why he is somewhat troubled, but he continues to hope that Hashem will help.

The fellow did not hesitate. He immediately took out a dollar that he received from the Rebbe for “bracha v’hatzlacha,” and gave it to the rabbi, saying, “This should be a segula for you, for success and children, and a salvation for everything you need.”

Barely nine months passed, and the rabbi came back with good news. This dollar has been passed on from person to person, making new Chassidim and bringing souls to the Rebbe.

He had one last dollar remaining, and he gave it to a female friend, whom he thought he would become engaged to, but in the end it did not work out. After they broke up, he asked only one thing from her, “Return the dollar of the Rebbe to me!”

She refused under any circumstances to part with the Rebbe’s dollar.

He then went with her to court, where the judge ruled that a gift is a gift, and therefore the dollar should stay with her!

After a few months, the Rebbe apparently saw his suffering over the fact that he did not have a single remaining dollar for blessing (as he tells it), and then he arrived to participate in a Chassidic farbrengen held in Shikkun Hei in B’nei Brak. One of the organizers suddenly stood up and said to him, “I have a surprise for you,” and handed him an envelope with a dollar of the Rebbe, without him having asked for it.

When he opened the envelope, he saw that the dollar had the date “24 Elul” written on it, and he remembered that this was the exact date on the last dollar he had received from the Rebbe.

I just melted. It is not every day and in every place that I get a mitzva, a tz’daka donation, and a “fresh” story of the Rebbe. I wanted to strengthen the fellow, and the Rebbe ended up fortifying me.

It is ah mechaye when we encounter G-dliness revealed.

Article originally appeared on Beis Moshiach Magazine (http://www.beismoshiachmagazine.org/).
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