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| 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.
© Mishpacha Magazine Inc. All rights reserved.
Mishpacha Website www.mishpacha.com
R' Tal Moshe
Zwecker
Website:
www.chassidusonline.com
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