“TIME OF OUR FREEDOM” BEHIND BARS

Prepared for publication by P. Zarchi

Forty years ago, there were not many shluchim of the Rebbe. The few Chabad Houses in Eretz Yisroel were manned by Chassidim who commuted from the large religious centers. The concept of “going on shlichus” in Eretz Yisroel, was far less popular.

Those who were on K’vutza in 5729 and on, returned to Eretz Yisroel with a different perspective. Hiskashrus to the Rebbe was strengthened and talk about going on shlichus as a way of life began to pop up here and there in the old time Chabad communities.

We went on shlichus to a small town. The goal was simple – spread the wellsprings outward and prepare another point on the world map for the coming of Moshiach.

Although we went on shlichus at the beginning of the 70’s, our work picked up real steam with the announcement of the Rebbe’s mitzva campaigns, five, at first. We anticipated receiving instructions and stood ready to carry out whatever the Rebbe would say. It is hard to describe the atmosphere in our place, when in our area we were the only ones; in the larger region there lived a few more Lubavitcher families who all worked as a real family unit, children of one father, with a clear goal: to complete the G-dly purpose of creation, and to give the Rebbe nachas by carrying out his orders.

Despite the intensive involvement in the five campaigns, the holiday campaigns of the Rebbe were dealt with in a manner of true dedication. At that time, the area shluchim worked hard on Mivtza Matza, some selling it, some giving it out in workplaces, stores, kibbutzim, and moshavim. When the Rebbe wants every Jew to have shmura matza at the seder, we do our utmost to make this a reality.

That year, we had a baby, and our plan was to be with our parents for Pesach, unlike earlier years when we made a public seder. This was the reason that even though we cleaned up for Yom Tov, the kitchen was not kashered and instead of doing that, we packed suitcases, went shopping, and of course, did Mivtza Matza.

On Yud-Alef Nissan 5736, days before Yom Tov, the Rebbe farbrenged. To the best of my recollection, Yud-Alef Nissan fell out on a Sunday and the Rebbe’s farbrengen was broadcast to our area in the early hours of Monday morning. Among other things, of course the Rebbe spoke about Mivtza Matza, but this was along with something new. The Rebbe asked that even those who were in hospitals and jails feel the freedom of the holiday. The Rebbe explained that sick people in the hospital are like prisoners there. He also asked that actual inmates in jails feel some freedom on Pesach, to whatever extent possible.

Who, other than the Rebbe, shepherd of the Jewish people, cares about the freedom of criminals? If the Rebbe asked, then we had to see how to fulfill this request and order. That is because every such instruction was focused on us, the shluchim, the hands and feet who carried out the shlichus of the head.

WAITING FOR AN ANSWER

Monday afternoon. After consulting with my fellow shluchim, local Anash scattered about the area, and we checked with the prison administration about the possibility of making a seder for inmates. All the other shluchim were already geared up to make public s’darim. We were the only ones whose plans, this year, because of the baby’s birth, were to spend Yom Tov with our parents. It was clear to us that our plans for Pesach night would be undergoing some upgrading. We waited for permission from the prison administration to host us, so we could inform the Rebbe of the news that the Jews in the local jail would be experiencing a taste of freedom inside the prison walls.

On Tuesday morning, the answer came from the prison warden. For reasons of security, he could not, nor was he allowed to, host a family on the grounds. If the Chabad House would be able to send only men, he would be happy to arrange a public seder for the general prison population.

It was clear to us that we would be celebrating the seder as a family and we would not be splitting up. Therefore, we informed him that it was a great shame, but we could not conduct the seder without a permit for a couple. We had with us also a young brother-in-law, who was staying with us during the semester break from yeshiva, and he took an active part in all of our work. The family, who resided in the central region of the country, were excited that we would be spending the holiday with them.

Tuesday passed with our regular activities of going to give out matzos as part of the matzo campaign, selling matzos at the Chabad House, selling chametz for people, and all of the other everyday work of a shliach. We packed up the last few items, getting ready for b’dikas chametz and the trip tomorrow to the family, where we would be spending all of Pesach.

On Wednesday morning, the commander of the prison called the Chabad House with a piece of news: There was a permit issued for hosting a couple in the prison! He would provide us with bedrooms and a clean refrigerator. Was the suggestion even doable at this point? I hurried home (a story of an hour, including the wait for public transportation etc.), and informed my wife of the change in plan.

THE WOMAN’S PERSPECTIVE

Regarding her role in the campaign, we asked her to tell it in her own words:

It was the morning of Erev Pesach, when after the davening my husband returned home with the dramatic news: Holding a seder had been permitted by the administration! The details were not yet all that clear, but there would be two s’darim, one for the prisoners, followed by another for the staff and their families. Preparations were already underway in the prison, and they were looking forward to the arrival of the Chabadniks, in the vehicle that they would send for us closer to the onset of the holiday.

How simple that sounds. But… the kitchen had not been kashered, I did not have even one kosher for Pesach product in the house. All the Pesach utensils were locked away in a closet. How was I supposed to undertake such a project? However, if the Rebbe asks, then I am ready and set to go. With one condition: by one in the afternoon I must have in the house, fish, chicken, eggs, Romaine lettuce and horseradish, ingredients for charoses, vegetables for the soup, and obviously matzos and another few basic items needed to prepare for the seder night.

Where would I get all of this from? As mentioned, the tiny community of Anash in our region was spread out geographically, but very united. Literally, “one family.” It made no difference to me from where he would gather the ingredients, what was clear was that each one of the women would give up some of her stock in order for us to be able to go on this special shlichus from the Rebbe. However, as mentioned, everything had to arrive by one in the afternoon, so that we could quickly kasher the kitchen, and I would have time to prepare the minimum required for the seder night and the first day of the holiday.

The kitchen was already clean, ready to be kashered. My baby girl, a shlucha from birth, cooperated and allowed me to work hard. Oh, how did I forget? We had to inform my parents. That was tricky. As Polish Chassidim, they did not quite understand the need for it to be us, specifically, to carry out the Rebbe’s wishes. They had already prepared everything, and it was not quite fair to them. I calmed them down with my excited descriptions of the two s’darim that we would be taking part in, and how it was not so awful, since immediately upon our return at the end of the first day we would head straight to them. All in all, we were talking about just one day.

My distressed parents got on the phone to pour out their hearts to their friends, Lubavitch Chassidim of the “old school.” These folks justified all of their bewildered questions and strengthened my parents in the feeling that we were “strange birds.” After all, who said that the Rebbe meant us specifically, and the fact is that they themselves would be celebrating the seder night in the bosom of their families, with no pangs of conscience and without looking for some prison that needed a seder arranged…

It was a bit unpleasant to have to face the pressure. I explained to my parents that I was working under a deadline for getting hold of the products and raw ingredients and the clock was ticking. It did not seem possible that my husband would succeed in mobilizing everything in such a short amount of time, including kashering the kitchen and all the rest.

Quite a bit later than zero hour he arrived, loaded down with everything that I had requested, a bit puzzled as to why the marble counters were not yet covered, and the Pesach gas burner was not yet hooked up. One last update to my parents that yes, we are crazy about doing this and that we had managed to get everything together with such short notice, followed by rolling up of sleeves for this major undertaking.

I do not recall such a unique Erev Pesach like we had that year. We had no idea how quickly it is possible to kasher a kitchen, when every minute is precious. In a very short time, the fish was cleaned and sliced, and swimming happily in the sauce. The chicken was already cooked, and the same for all of the other basic foodstuffs, namely, potatoes and more potatoes…

The official vehicle of the Prison Services arrived, and we loaded up the pots that had just come off of the fire in the baggage compartment, together with everything that we needed for the baby, a suitcase, siddurim, Hagados, matzos, wine, and sleeping equipment. We felt a little bit like the six hundred thousand Jews who left Egypt, each one loaded down with ninety donkeys.

UNPLEASANT SURPRISE

We arrived at the prison gates minutes before Yom Tov began. The guard let us in and we were assigned a warden, who escorted us to the “guest rooms,” which turned out to be the offices of the commander and his deputy, where they had put folding beds, and in one room was the promised refrigerator. The offices were in a separate building, far from where the inmates were held. The senior warden introduced himself and briefly explained what would take place on the holiday.

For obvious reasons, women could not walk around near the inmates, so (he said, turning to me), “You will remain here and won’t be able to go out. You can walk around the corridors with the baby, but that’s all. A guard will secure the building for the 24 hours that you are here. As for the seder, of course, you will not be able to attend it, for the same reason. Ditto for the seder with the staff. We’re sorry, but those are the regulations. Chag sameiach, and if you need anything, you can knock on the door and ask the guard.”

He waited until we unloaded everything and accompanied my husband and brother-in-law to the dining room where they would have the seder for the inmates.

I was taken aback by this information, but the time for lighting the candles did not leave me with much time to ponder the bizarre situation I had landed in. I decided to daven and instead of waiting until later for the men to return, I decided to make a seder for me and my baby.

What usually takes hours at the festive table, took me half an hour, with the bed serving as the table, including all the traditional holiday tunes. I dozed off from the four cups of wine and exhaustion. It was quite the Leil Shimurim with the Guardian of Israel, and my own personal guard downstairs near the door.

Apparently, many hours had passed when I heard cheerful voices in the room, those of soldiers of the Rebbe who were getting ready, for the third time that night, to make a seder, this time with warm fish and cold soup. I, who had already fulfilled the mitzvos of the night, half-listened to kiddush and sank back into Chassidishe dreams.

GRATEFUL INMATE

In the morning, the men went to daven with the inmates and I remained in the building as per regulations, walking back and forth with the carriage. A sandstorm began, preventing me from getting some fresh air from the windows. Back to a brief meal and the men used the rest of the day to talk with inmates and staff members. I spent the rest of the day in an empty building.

I used the time to farbreng with myself, with the ten faculties of my soul, something which the regular flow of life does not allow much time for, especially when on shlichus. Every minute is important for working with another, to give ever more nachas to the Rebbe. Here, I was given a full day to spend with myself and I used it well. I thought again and again about the hindrances and obstacles, and about the Amalek in Chassidic garb, and about the privilege that I have to be here on the Rebbe’s shlichus. Even if all I did was to breathe the air of the prison and to walk back and forth in the hallway hundreds of times.

Yes, I was confined and locked away behind locks and bars, but I felt the freedom that the Rebbe bequeaths to every Jew. I had free will, and I overcame everything to carry out the will of the Rebbe. It was all worth it. I felt deeply the awareness of “fortunate are we.” I too was an inmate for whom the Rebbe cared for on that Pesach of 1976, and I was truly grateful.