Journal Mitzvah: How Far Is Lizhensk From Oceanside?

R' Tal Moshe Zwecker

By: Gavriel Horan

The Bal Shem Tov wrote that the Mashiach would come when his teachings spread out to the four corners of the earth. With his English translation of the sefer Noam Elimelech, Rabbi Tal Moshe Zwecker has brought the tzaddik Reb Elimelech of Lizhensk — who’s yahrtzeit is on 21 Adar — into the lives of his readers … and himself

HOW FAR IS LIZHENSK FROM OCEANSIDE?

The Bal Shem Tov wrote that the Mashiach would come when his teachings spread out to the four corners of the earth. Once far from Yiddishkeit himself, Rabbi Tal Moshe Zwecker is now helping to fulfill the Baal Shem Tov’s vision by opening the world of Chassidus to the English speaking public. With his translation of the sefer Noam Elimelech, he has brought the tzaddik Reb Elimelech of Lizhensk — who’s yahrtzeit is on 21 Adar — into the lives of his readers … and himself

Gavriel Horan

In this “I” generation — with Internet, iPods, and BlackBerrys — we are more plugged in than ever, but more “plugged out” from genuine relationships and connection. This carries over into all aspects of life including our relationships with each other, ourselves, and Hashem. While youth are crying out for love, meaning, and connection, they don’t know where to turn. Rabbi Tal Moshe Zwecker, author of the acclaimed English translation of the chassidic classic Noam Elimelech — MiPeninei Noam Elimelech (Targum), believes that Chassidus may be a balm to society’s ills.

“As our generation deals with the challenges facing kids at risk, the baal teshuvah movement, and the challenges of an outside world that becomes more and more morally degenerative every day, chassidic teachings may be the secret to our renewal,” Rabbi Zwecker said. “I think people are looking to connect to something that’s bigger than themselves nowadays. The teachings of Chassidus about love, compassion, and simchah fill a tremendous void in so many people who are suffering so much today.”

Seeing Rabbi Zwecker today with his long, flaming red peyos and beaver hat, one would never guess that he, too, was born to a religiously disconnected family. Yet he made the difficult leap from secular society to some of the most elite inner circles of the chassidic world. Becoming a true chassid is itself a challenging feat, but Zwecker wasn’t content to end there. He wanted to ensure that others, who grew up outside the chassidic community as he did, could have access to the rich teachings of Chassidus. His encyclopedic memory and masterful grasp of Hebrew, Yiddish, and English led him to begin the daunting task of translating many of the chassidic classics into English for the first time ever in an easy-to-read and down-to-earth style. Today, his books are helping to bring thousands of English speakers into the world of Chassidus. And precisely because he made that journey himself, is he able to pave the way for others.

Peyos in America

Rabbi Zwecker was raised in Canarsie, Brooklyn, and Oceanside, Long Island, by secular Israeli parents who left Israel in search of greater economic opportunity. Although in Israel they had little to do with Yiddishkeit, in America they found themselves searching for a Jewish identity. “My parents had the syndrome that most expatriate Israelis do: they became more religious when they left Israel. One of the worst results of Zionism is that Israelis feel Jewish just by living in Israel — they wear their Judaism on the flag. When they get to chutz l’Aretz and are surrounded by a sea of non-Jews, their Jewish identity has nothing to hold onto.” Therefore, it is not uncommon for secular Israelis living abroad to take on all sorts of religious practices that they would never have dreamed of doing when they were in Israel, such as Kiddush, candle lighting, or kashrus in the home.

In America, the Zweckers went to a nearby Conservative synagogue a few times a year and made Kiddush and hamotzi each Shabbos. The year before his bar mitzvah, Tal Moshe used to regularly go to services on Shabbos morning, always arriving just in time for the Torah reading. He thought he was arriving for the beginning of prayers and erroneously believed that the davening consisted of the Torah reading followed by the Shemoneh Esrei of Musaf — never knowing there was such as thing as Shacharis. While visiting relatives in Ra’anana the week of his bar mitzvah, which the family was to celebrate in Israel, he accompanied his cousin to shul on Shabbos morning. “Don’t worry,” he assured his cousin, “I go to shul all the time in America. I know exactly what’s going on.” When they arrived at shul on time, he was surprised to find them davening Shemoneh Esrei before Kriyas haTorah. “They do everything backwards here in Israel,” he said. “First they daven, then they read from the Torah!”

Rabbi Zwecker’s first memory of chassidim was encountering the “old fashioned” Satmar chassidim in Williamsburg. His family enjoyed the sight, as a relic from the past. As they drove through the neighborhood, they would stop to ask directions just to get a closer look at their archaic clothes and to see the peyos they thought were left behind in Jerusalem’s back alleys. Rabbi Zwecker grew up speaking Hebrew in the home and “peyot” is the modern Hebrew word for wigs. For years afterward he tried to figure out how the chassidim got their “wigs” to stay on just above their ears. Years later, when Rabbi Zwecker was becoming frum, he had contact with a number of Satmar chassidim whom he says were among the kindest, most generous people he had ever met, quite contrary to what he had been told as a child. His father did, however take a liking to the Chabad chassidim he met, since they were always nice to Israelis. “It never even occurred to him that they were trying to mekarev us,” Rabbi Zwecker says.

The teachers in Conservative Hebrew School happened to all be Orthodox, although the students used to make fun of them incessantly and never paid any attention. The only time young Tal Moshe ever paid attention was when his teacher used to read traditional chassidic tales and stories about the Arizal to the class. It captivated his imagination and passion. Seeing this, the teacher took him aside and said, “You have a good head. Why not apply yourself to your Hebrew studies? It may come in handy some day.” Rabbi Zwecker listened and ended up graduating Hebrew school with honors. He learned to read and write Hebrew in the process, in addition to speaking it at home, which would eventually aid him along his journey.

A Budding Kabbalist

In public high school, ethnic pride was the watchword, yet how could he be proud of his own ethnicity if he knew so little about it? So he began his search.

“I wasn’t biased,” he said. “I was looking for answers about what life was all about.” In order to do that he turned to unlikely sources — the New Testament, the Koran, and a wide assortment of Eastern religions. One by one he found holes in everything. The only place he found any answers to his questions about life was when he finally turned to books about Kabbalah in English. There the purpose of Creation and the world made sense. “Kabbalah teaches that everything we do is either rectifying or destroying the world. I realized that by not keeping Judaism I was destroying the world.” But he soon came to the conclusion that he didn’t know enough about Judaism yet to become a mekubal.

His father surprisingly agreed to enroll him in evening classes at the local Young Israel — Chumash, Talmud, and Halachah — that were taught by yungeleit from the nearby Shor Yoshuv Yeshiva, founded by Rabbi Shlomo Friefeld, ztz”l. As he started learning, he began to daven regularly and to keep kosher. Keeping Shabbos however, was a major hurdle. “When you keep Shabbos you know how easy it is,” he said, “but when you first look at a Hilchos Shabbos book it looks impossible! There were numerous volumes of the most intricate laws — how would I ever manage to keep them all?” He also realized that keeping Shabbos would result in a major confrontation with his parents.

Oceanside High School produced dozens of baalei teshuvah due to the dedicated efforts of the local NCSY chapter. But Tal’s parents wouldn’t let him attend the NCSY events because they were afraid it would inspire him to become totally religious. When he finally managed to attend an event one Shabbos, he was so impressed at how easy it really was to keep Shabbos that he made a deal with Hashem that he would become shomer Shabbos by Rosh HaShanah. That year on Rosh HaShanah, at age sixteen, he accepted the yoke of mitzvos and made a commitment to become totally frum. He said he never remembers crying as much. “It was the first time that I had ever come face to face with the concept of a personal relationship with G-d. I felt that I was speaking personally to Him and taking Him up on the great opportunity to do teshuvah that He endowed us with.”

Although he initially kept his Shabbos observance hidden from his parents, it was only a matter of time before they found out what he was up to. At first they were furious, and it actually took years to heal the rift. “When a person becomes a baal teshuvah” Rabbi Zwecker explained in retrospect, “it’s essential to love, respect, and honor your parents and to keep them a part of your life as much as possible. Today they are proud of me in many ways, but it wasn’t easy to get to that place.”

On his first observant Purim, a friend took him to get a brachah from Rav Avraham Pam, ztz”l. Rav Pam blessed him that he should learn kol haTorah kulah. That summer, Tal Moshe locked himself in a room and learned through the entire Maseches Brachos — the first time he had ever learned Gemara. He was already seeing the siyata d’Shmaya in his learning and he felt that Rav Pam’s brachah was on its way to fulfillment.

After graduating high school, the frum community of Oceanside paid for Tal Moshe to spend a year learning in yeshivah in Eretz Yisrael. During this process, he never lost his passion for mysticism or the esoteric but he soon realized that frum people don’t just become kabbalists. And so he began delving into the teachings of Chassidus — whatever he could find in English, which at the time was very little, and he found a new passion. “Chassidus basically takes the deep concepts of Kabbalah and makes it practical for everyday life so that anyone can relate to it,” he explained. By the time he went to Israel to learn at Yeshivas Kerem B’Yavneh, he was already committed to a chassidic way of life. “I realized that Chassidus is a living philosophy. It’s not just a cold system of thoughts and ideas, it’s a whole way of life and I wanted to live that life.” He now needed to find a Rebbe to teach him how to be a chassid.

He used his time in Israel to visit as many chassidic communities as he could in search of a Rebbe and his fluent Hebrew allowed him to easily transverse language barriers that most baalei teshuvah could not. His first time visiting Toldos Aharon in Meah Shearim during Succos, for example, he was bombarded by tens of invitations for Yom Tov seudos until two prospective hosts actually fought over him until they agreed to share him for the various seudos. Being the guest, he was served first for all of the courses and was given the best sleeping spot in the succah. When the fish was served, he politely waited for them to bring out the silverware until he realized that their custom was to eat fish with their bare hands. Not wanting to offend his hosts, he joined in. Years later he learned this custom dates back to early chassidic teaching, and the belief that in the direct and intimate handling of the food, the holy sparks within are elevated; Rav Mordechai of Nadvorna preferred to touch the holy fish with hands that had immersed in the mikveh that day, rather than with a fork that had only been toiveled once long ago.

Meeting the Rebbe

When Reb Tal Moshe’s grandmother passed away, he spent time with his cousins in Ra’anana. They ended up missing the last Shacharis minyan at the local shul and asked someone if there was another minyan in the area. “The only minyan at this hour is by the Rebbe,” someone told them. “There’s a Rebbe in Raanana?” Rabbi Zwecker asked in astonishment. He had spent numerous Shabbosim in the chassidic enclaves of Jerusalem and Bnai Brak but never thought that there was a chassidic Rebbe in the heart of secular Ra’anana that he had visited so many times. After davening in the beis medrash of the Clevelander Rebbe, Rav Yitzchak Isaac Rosenbaum, shlita, the Rebbe invited Zwecker to come back sometime to join him for Shabbos.

“When I heard the Rebbe's davening and then saw him recite Kiddush in the highly emotional and tearful Nadvorna nusach, I felt that I was experiencing first-hand the concept that one who says Kiddush becomes a partner with Hashem in Creation. Here was a tzaddik who had partnered with Hashem and I wanted to be connected and attach myself to him.”

Rabbi Zwecker eventually became a regular guest at the Rebbe’s Shabbos table, and even spent several months living in his home. During their time together, Reb Tal Moshe took every opportunity to learn with the Rebbe alone, both Gemara and Chassidus, and to absorb the nuances and customs of Chassidus in general and Nadvorna Chassidus in particular. As their relationship developed, the Clevelander Rebbe saw that Reb Tal Moshe was serious about becoming a chassid and told him that if this was the path he wanted to take, he would have to learn to dress and act the part. This was a necessary ingredient in order to eventually be able to integrate into a normal chassidish community — especially when it comes to raising chassidish children.

Only Yiddish Will Do

After his year in yeshivah in Israel was up, the Rebbe sent Tal Moshe to his brother-in-law, the Sulitzer Rebbe, Rabbi Shmuel Shmelke Rubin, in Far Rockaway, where he remained for several years while simultaneously learning in Yeshivas Shor Yoshuv. Rabbi Zwecker spent so many Shabbosim by the Sulitzer Rebbe that he became a fixture in their house. After a short time, the Rebbe told him that they were no longer speaking “goyish” and would converse exclusively in Yiddish from then on. When Reb Tal Moshe objected that he didn’t know Yiddish, the Rebbe’s response was, “So learn!” Within a short time of only conversing with the Rebbe in broken Yiddish, he eventually became completely fluent, making his total emersion into chassidic life all the more realistic. Although the change was drastic, Rabbi Zwecker was so deeply committed to the ideals of Chassidus that he simply grabbed the ball and ran with it.

When he married his wife, a student of Rav Moshe Weinberger of the Aish Kodesh kehillah in Woodmere, the Zweckers made aliyah to Beitar, eventually relocating to Ramat Beit Shemesh, and began raising a family in true chassidic fashion. He learned in kollel for many years in the Clevelander Rebbe’s kollel in Beitar and Ra’anana, and eventually received smichah Yoreh-Yoreh.

“Although I had been going through the motions for some time, I realized that I still didn’t really know much about the teachings of the chassidic masters,” he said. “I used to learn Chassidus on the parshah like everyone does, but from that alone, I was unable to glean a cohesive approach to Yiddishkeit and life.” When he asked his Rebbe about it, the Rebbe told him that he if he really wanted to understand Chassidus, he would have to have to start from the classics — Noam Elimelech, Siduro shel Shabbos, Degel Machaneh Ephraim, Kedushas Levi — and learn them from beginning to end. Although the first address for many newcomers to Chassidus is Tanya and Likutei Moharan, the Rebbe told him that they required much more background in order to learn them properly. Another essential eitzah he received along the way was from the son of the Spinka Rebbe, currently the Krula Rebbe of Boro Park. He suggested that Tal Moshe write his own mafteiach — an index of topics and ideas on the inside cover of every text he learned.

“Chassidus is a system. It requires systematic study. Most of the seforim weren’t written by the Rebbes themselves, and some essential concepts are only explained in depth once in the middle of the sefer,” Rabbi Zwecker explained. His notes would eventually allow him to easily cross-reference all of the main concepts in Chassidus — a tool that was essential when writing his footnotes for Noam Elimelech.

Connecting to Reb Elimelech

As he seriously learned through Noam Elimelech while taking notes, he realized that he had the beginnings of a sefer on his hands. “There aren’t many English translations of chassidic seforim out there. I realized that there was a gap — many English-speaking baalei teshuvah are drawn to the teachings of Chassidus, but they have no way to access it. There I was, a Hebrew and Yiddish speaker raising a chassidish family and I didn’t know anything about the depths of chassidic thought. So what was happening with everyone else?”

Eventually he went to the Clevelander Rebbe with the idea of publishing an English translation of Noam Elimelech. After receiving the Rebbe’s brachah, he bounced the idea off Rav Moshe Weinberger in Woodmere. Rav Weinberger was much more hesitant for fear that a possible mistake in translation might elicit harsh judgments.

“You have to speak to a mekubal who knows these things,” he said. He sent him to Rav Yaakov Meir Shechter, rosh yeshivah of the renowned Yeshivas Shaar HaShamayim. But Rav Shechter was also discouraging. “Noam Elimelech is such a difficult sefer, why not start with something easier?” When Rav Schechter understood that the translation was only going to include non-esoteric selections from the original sefer, he gave his blessing as well. “There’s no better way to develop a close relationship with a tzaddik than by learning and publishing his sefer,” he said. “It brings great light into the world.”

After putting up one advertisement looking for donors, Rabbi Zwecker started to receive an overwhelming influx of calls and e-mails from people who were interested in the project. “I never believed the response would be like that,” he said. Today the book is already in its third printing after only two years. Shortly after the book came out, he received a call from a chassid in New York who has since hired him to start working on an English translation of Kedushas Levi, which will be coming out shortly. He is also working on a second volume of Noam Elimelech on the Yamim Tovim as well as a collection of chassidic teachings on Pirkei Avos.

All the seforim contain a mixture of teachings and stories, which makes them even more accessible. “People love stories,” he said. “There’s no better way to give over the philosophy of Chassidus than through stories. A chassidic story has the power to capture the heart and imagination of people.”

In All Your Ways

In his famous epistle written to his brother-in-law, the Bal Shem Tov describes a vision he had in which the Mashiach told him that he would arrive when the teachings of Chassidus “will be disseminated and revealed in the world, and your wellsprings will spread outward ...” Rabbi Zwecker sees it as his personal mission to continue the Bal Shem Tov’s lofty goal of hastening the coming of the Mashiach: “The Torah of the Bal Shem Tov is the Torah of Mashiach. It emphasizes the deeper meaning of the Torah, ahavas Yisrael, and finding goodness even in the darkest places in our lives. The wellsprings of the Bal Shem Tov have to spread out to all the Jews out there who are so far away, who need someone to love them — to ignite that pintele Yid.”

“The Baal Shem Tov came to the world at a time when the simple Jews were very estranged from avodas Hashem,” he explained. “He reminded them that Hashem loves their prayers and their singing. He reminded people that eating, sleeping, dancing, every breath, every story, every aspect of life is all avodos Hashem.” Although the chassidic courts of today represent the strongholds of mainstream Yiddishkeit, Chassidus was once a kiruv movement that sought to help connect the simple, broken-hearted Jews of Europe with their Creator.

“Today, people also feel estranged from Yiddishkeit — both secular Jews and the high number of kids ‘off the derech.’ Chassidus teaches us that avodas Hashem is for everyone. It doesn’t expect everyone to be a tzaddik — it expects you to be an erliche Yid. You don’t have to be a rosh yeshivah or a gadol — you have to be the best you that you can be. Hashem loves you for who you are and for what only you can contribute. If you’re not doing that, then you’re in trouble.”

Rabbi Zwecker emphasizes that if his own rebbeim hadn’t invested their precious time to teach and guide him into the world of Chassidus, he wouldn’t be able to share it with others today. “I am just giving it back. I wasn’t zocheh to be a student of the Bal Shem Tov, or even to be born into the tradition, but I’ve attached myself to it through those that have a direct mesorah from the beginning.”

A TRIP THROUGH A TIME MACHINE

Throughout the generations, tzaddikim have spoken about the great segulos associated with the kever of Rebbe Elimelech of Lizhensk, and thousands travel there on his yahrtzeit, 21 Adar. Rebbe Mendel of Riminov said that visiting the kever of Reb Elimelech ensures that a person will be inspired to do teshuvah before he passes away. Similarly Rebbe Meir of Premishlan said that davening at the kever is a segulah for yiras Shamayim. Other tzaddikim have said that the grave of the Noam Elimelech is the only kever in Europe to still possess a direct link to the tzaddik.

“It’s like a trip through a time machine,” Rabbi Zwecker says. “Life hasn’t changed so much since then. Many people still draw water from the well and ride in horse-drawn buggies. You feel like you’re in the middle of a chassidic story. This is where they came from; they davened and walked in these same forests and hills.”

On his first visit to Lizhensk, Rabbi Zwecker brought along his newly printed sefer, MiPeninei Noam Elimelech. He said that although he felt intimately connected to the Rebbe from translating the sefer, it was his first time meeting him “face-to-face.”

“It was an extremely emotional moment for me. I, too, cried and davened for a long time in the tziyun and never saw such an awakening of teshuvah as I did among the people there. It was such an outpouring — people were screaming and crying as if the world was ending. When I came out my clothes were soaked — I was literally dripping with sweat and tears.”

Reb Elimelech is quoted as having said that he nullified and sweetened the suffering associated with the birth pangs of Mashiach. When Rabbi Zwecker brought his book to the Kaliver Rebbe of Yerushalayim, the Rebbe asked a poignant question: “If what Reb Elimelech said is true, how then can it be that the world has been through so much suffering since then?” The Kaliver Rebbe himself knew first hand the horrors of the Holocaust, making the question even stronger. “It could have been so much worse,” the Rebbe answered, “so much worse.” Only someone who saw what he saw, could say such a thing.

Three Times Three

Noam and Dorit Sherman of Lod were unable to have children for many years and finally decided to apply for adoption. Shortly before the adoption process was complete, Noam was invited to join a group of Israelis traveling to kivrei tzaddikim in Eastern Europe. He was the tenth man. At the kever of Reb Elimelech in Lizhensk, Noam beseeched the Rebbe to intercede for them in Shamayim. “You will be our advocate before Hashem! I came here to pray not for one, not for two but for three,” he said on behalf of his wife, himself, and the future child they so longed for. Little did he know how providential those words would prove.

Shortly after the trip, the Shermans’ sixth fertility treatment was successful and the doctors announced that they were expecting triplets! Nonetheless, the doctors warned that carrying triplets could be detrimental to the health of the babies and strongly recommended aborting two of the fetuses through a process called dilution. After receiving a brachah from Rabbi Mordechai Eliyahu, ztz”l, however, the Shermans decided not to dilute. After nine months they were blessed with three healthy baby boys.

Five years later, they underwent further treatment, and once more, found out that they were expecting triplets! This time, the doctors unequivocally told them to dilute, since the rate of survival of the fetuses was even smaller the second time. Nonetheless, the Shermans were determined to continue and once again, gave birth to three more healthy children. Israel’s Channel 2 covered the entire story.

Etti Algrisi, also of Lod, happened to turn on the news that night. The Algrisis had recently undergone similar treatments and were also expecting triplets. Once again, the doctors strongly recommended dilution. Although her traditional Sephardic husband was adamantly against it, Etti agreed to go ahead with the dilution process, scheduled for Sunday. When she heard the Shermans’ story she began to have second thoughts. She looked the Shermans up and it turned out that the two couples lived only a few minutes apart from each other in Lod. The Shermans encouraged Etti to continue with the pregnancy. The next morning Etti cancelled her hospital appointment and decided to put her trust in Hashem.

“I prayed to Hashem to give me the strength to deal with whatever needed to happen,” Etti said. The couples stayed in touch throughout the entire term. “Dorit gave me the strength and faith to believe it was possible.” A short time later, the Algrisis gave birth to three healthy baby boys.

When Noam Sherman davened at the kever of Reb Elimelech, he had no idea what his words, “I pray not for one, not for two, but for three,” really meant — three times three!

REB ELIMELECH’S MOSSAD CONNECTION

Although the Mossad has not confirmed the following story, it has not denied it either. As the story goes, in the 1960s Israeli secret agents in Poland approached the non-Jewish woman who possessed the key to the kever of Reb Elimelech in Lizhensk. They offered her a large sum of money if she would give information on any Russian or Polish soldiers who prayed at the grave. At some point, a high-ranking Red Army officer came to daven at the kever. As soon as he left, the woman read his kvittel and through it managed to get his name to the Israeli agents. The Mossad set to work to convince this officer to provide Israel with Egyptian military secrets. An anonymous source claims that this soldier was none other than dissident Yefim Davidovitch, a colonel in the Russian Army who later became a famous refusnik, instrumental in paving the way for the first wave of Russian aliyah. He managed to get the Israelis detailed maps of Egyptian air force bases which enabled the Israeli Air Force to destroy over 330 Egyptian planes in the first hours of war — thanks in part to the Rebbe Reb Meilech. May his merit continue to protect us!

This article is reprinted from Mishpacha Magazine. With the permission of Mishpacha Magazine.