My father, Rabbi Abraham-Tzvi Greenwald, was born in Lodz. Poland, in 1911. His father died when he was only eight years old, leaving his mother alone with seven young orphans. She sent my father to live with her cousin, Rabbi Menachem Zemba, a famous Talmudic scholar in pre-war Warsaw and a dedicated Gerer Chasid. Rabbi Zemba raised him devotedly, taking responsibility for his education, and even studied with him personally.
On the fourteenth of Kislev, 5689 [1928], Rabbi Menachem-Mendel Schneerson married Rebbetzin Chaya-Mushka, the daughter of the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef-Yitzchak Schneerson. The “Great Wedding” in Warsaw was attended by most of the Chasidic masters and major leaders of Polish Jewry, including Rabbi Zemba.
Rabbi Zemba was quite taken by the (Previous) Lubavitcher Rebbe’s new son-in-law and wanted to meet with him personally. He arranged to visit the Rebbe at his hotel taking along my father who was then 17.
The two scholars had a lively discussion on many issues throughout the Talmud. Rabbi Zemba was very impressed and spoke about their encounter for many years afterwards.When Rabbi Zemba was ready to leave, the Rebbe suddenly turned to my father and said:“There are only a few days left until Chanukah. Do you know why it is customary in Chassidic synagogues to celebrate and make special parties on the fifth night of Chanukah?”My father was not aware of this custom or its reason, nor was Rabbi Zemba, who looked intently at the Rebbe, waiting for his answer. The Rebbe continued, still addressing my father:
“It happens that the fifth day of Chanukah can never occur on Shabbat. This represents great darkness [such that even the great holiness of Shabbat cannot penetrate]. The fifth candle symbolizes that the light of Chanukah can illuminate even such intense darkness. This is the duty of every Jew wherever he may find himself, be it in Warsaw or in Moscow or in London, to illuminate even the greatest darkness.”
Years passed. My father received rabbinical ordination, married and had five beautiful children.
But then the tragedy of the Holocaust hit Polish Jewry. Father went through its horrors, first in the ghetto and then in the death camps. His first wife and all five children were killed in front of his eyes. At the end of the war, he was still alive, thank G-d, but broken in body and spirit.
For two years he circulated among the DP camps looking for surviving family members. Alas, all his sisters, brothers and family had been murdered. In 1948 he emigrated and sailed to America, settling in Philadelphia, thanks to his uncle, Moshe-Chaim Greenwald (for whom I am named), who provided him with his travel expenses. His uncle, an Amshinover Chasid from Poland who had moved to Philadelphia before World War I, welcomed him with open arms and tried to rehabilitate him and help him start a new life after his terrible Holocaust trauma.
His uncle and the Amshinover Rebbe (who had passed most of WWII in China and Japan, and subsequently lived in the Borough Park section of Brooklyn—y.t.) pressured my father to meet my mother, who also lived through the war. My mother, a daughter of Reb Zushe Zinkovitz of Cracow, Poland, a Chasid of the Rebbe of Alexander, had managed to escape with her sister at the beginning of the war. They wandered from country to country until they came to Canada. They were taken in and cared for by their great-uncle, Reb Koppel Schwartz, a prestigious Jew in Toronto.
My father needed encouragement and confidence for his second marriage, so Reb Koppel traveled with him to New York to receive the blessing of the Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneerson. Reb Koppel, long an admirer of the Rebbe, told him that my father was a Holocaust survivor who lost his whole family. The Rebbe’s eyes began to tear. He then blessed my father to build a family and live a long life.Before leaving, my father mentioned that he had attended the Rebbe’s daughter’s wedding in Warsaw. The Rebbe’s eyes lit up, and he said:
“Since you were at my son-on-law’s wedding, it would be proper to stop in and visit him, too.”
Reb Koppel and my father went downstairs to the Rebbe’s office. To my father’s great surprise, the Rebbe instantly recognized him from his visit twenty years before. The Rebbe asked him about Rabbi Zemba’s last days. He heard that he had been killed in the Warsaw Ghetto uprising, but did not know the details.After my father related all that he knew, the Rebbe said:
“Since my father-in-law, the Rebbe, told you to come visit me, I must tell you a Torah concept. We are now in the month of Kislev, close to Chanukah. It happens that the fifth day of Chanukah can never occur on Shabbat. This represents a great darkness. The fifth candle thus symbolizes the great light of Chanukah, which can illuminate even such an intense darkness. That is why the joy on this night is so immense. It is the duty of every Jew, wherever he may find himself, be it in New York or Philadelphia or London, to illuminate even the greatest darkness.”
My father was stunned. The exact same insight came back to him, word for word, as the Rebbe had told him 20 years before in the Warsaw hotel.
Slightly adapted from Yerachamiel Tilles English translation of the story.
To be continued.
*Rabbi Greenwald writes: “Although I am not a Lubavitcher, I feel it is important for people to share their personal stories about the Rebbe, so that we and our children can know more about the great spiritual presence that lived among us. We always kept this story within the family, but now, after the passing of our holy Leader, I feel obligated to make it public. May the merit of our belief in Tzadikim bring us closer to the Redemption that the Rebbe worked his whole life to bring.”
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