Women and Matzah

One Erev Pesach, the wife of Reb Avraham Yehoshua Heschel, Apter Rebbe and author of Ohev Yisrael (the lover of fellow Jews), was busy in the kitchen taking care of last minute preparations for the impending seder. She was bustling and in the midst of great activity when she heard a knock at the door. Too engrossed in her work, she let someone else in the house welcome the visitor. Two town collectors of tzedakah (charity) were at the door, asking if there was any small change or Pesach goods in the house so that they can buy and distribute matzah and wine to the poor who had not yet been taken care of for the Yom Tov. Having no money on herself, and with the Rebbetzin astir in the kitchen, she spotted a few matzos tied up in a napkin on the table. She ran over, and handed them to the men.

When the Rebbetzin finally made her way from the kitchen into the dining room, she sensed that something was amiss. She surveyed the room, now aglow with Pesach utensils and wares. The room shined with a Yom Tov radiance, and the Rebbetzin contemplated the notion that she had gone to such measures in preparation for the Pesach holiday, that the shechina (divine presence) might even descend into the dining room itself, in this mikdash me'at (small sanctuary of the home), as if to validate her kavanah, namely, that everything was prepared leshaim shamayim (for the sake of heaven). Everything was perfectly prepared for the seder. Well, almost everything. The table was lacking. "The matzah!" she cried out. It was just that day that her husband had personally baked the matzos with the utmost, meticulous care and with the deepest of kavanahs (intentions) in order to fulfill the mitzvah of matzah with the utmost holiness. This was his shemura matzah for the seder (specially guarded matzos from the time that the wheat is cut). Shaken, she pondered the situation, and finally grabbed hold of herself. She reasoned that there was only one recourse. And that was to take three ordinary matzos, and tie them up into the same napkin that had been "guarding" the shemurah matzos.

Hours later, after the seder was complete, there was a knock at the door. A disgruntled man led his wife into the home of the Rebbe, and began to complain. Apparently, the man wanted a divorce, because his wife had refused to cook in separate utensils for Pesach without shruyah (today knows as gebrokhts. The extra pious do not want water to come in contact with the matzah even after it is baked, lest it get puffed or "cooked" and become chametz, leavened bread, which is forbidden on Pesach). The irate man argued that the Rebbe had to agree that this was grounds for divorce. The Apter Rebbe called his wife into the room. "What type of matzah was used for tonight's seder?" questioned the Rebbe. Too afraid to give over the truth and let her husband's anger flare, she stood paralyzed. "It's OK, said the Rebbe. Nothing will happen to you. Just tell me. What type of matzah was used for tonight's seder?" She began to tremble, but finally admitted that it was not shemurah matzah, but plain, ordinary matzah. And she told the entire story. The Rebbe turned his attention to the quarelling couple. "You see, I knew the whole time that it was not sheurah matzah that was being used for tonight's seder. But rather than get upset at my wife, and speak words that I might later regret, I sat in silence, and felt that I had fulfilled the mitzvah of matzah in its entirety. And I did this for the sake of shalom bayis (peace in the home). And now, you wanted to divorce your wife because she used gebrakhts!" The couple understood well, and after a few more minutes under the Rebbe's care, a peaceful reconciliation was forged.


Word had gotten out, and had reached Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, that the poor women in the matzah factories were being overworked, from early morning until late night, without even adequate break. Reb Levi Yitzchak got up in shul, and said the following, "for years we have suffered the crushing consequences of the blood libels thrown against us by the anti-semite gentiles. They accuse us of using Christian blood as the secret ingredient when we knead and bake our matzos. But I tell you today that it is not Christian blood that we use, but the blood of our own daughters of Israel, who are being overworked in our bakeries!"


The Rebbe Reb Elimelech was once asked what the biggest mitzvah of baking matzos was. He replied, "making sure that the almanos (widows) don't get yelled at in the bakeries."

Dveikus Niggun of the Rebbe Reb Elimelech

Sukkos Stories

dIt was the first morning of Sukkos in Lizhensk, and something was bothering Reb Elimelech. There was something in the air; something that just didn't seem right. He paused in the middle of hallel, and began to walk around the shul with his nose in the air, trying desperately to find the source of his disturbance. After davening he made his way, once again, around the shul, but before he walked out the door, his olfactory senses directed him to the esrog in the hand of the last man, in the last row, in the last seat. Reb Elimelech rushed over: "What is it about your esrog that emits the scent of Gan Eden (the Garden of Eden)?" he asked after taking in a long steady whiff. "Where did you acquire this esrog?" The man said that it was a long and not-so-exciting story, but if the Rebbe wished, he would tell it over.

"I live in Strelisk. I'm not a wealthy man, but I make a living. Every year before Sukkos I save money, even months in advance, so that I could buy a fancy and pleasing esrog. I save up 50 gulden, and make my way to Lemberg for the purchase. When I stopped this year at an inn on the way to Lemberg, I was woken in the night by screams and shouts outside of the inn. I made my way downstairs to see what the commotion was all about. Apparently, a ba'al agalah (wagon driver) needed to buy a new horse. His trusty horse had broken its leg, and the driver would lose his livelihood without a new horse by the next day. He begged the innkeeper to sell him a horse, which the innkeeper tried his best to do, but the price was way beyond the ba'al agalah's budget. The horse cost a total of 50 gulden. The driver begged the innkeeper to lower the price, but to no avail.

"And so I asked the innkeeper if he would give the driver the horse if I would pay him 45 gulden in cash. He agreed, and the ba'al agalah, astonished, thanked me profusely, and offered a free ride to any destination at any time.

"When I arrived in Lemberg I bought the best esrog I could find with only five gulden: Small and unattractive. When I got home, my wife and I agreed that we would be laughed out of Strelisk with such a tiny, ugly thing. And so we set out to Lizhensk to be in the company of the Rebbe, where we knew we would be accepted no matter how displeasing our esrog was."

"This is truly an amazing story," said Reb Elimelech. "Now I understand why the scent of Gan Eden has been wafting through the shul all through davening. You are really a lucky man, and you truly deserve this esrog. I'd like to hold it for a few minutes before you go home."


Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev was once so excited and so anxious about making the bracha (blessing) over the lulav and esrog on the first day of Sukkos, that he broke the glass esrog case because his hands were shaking so intensely. It was only after he made the bracha that he realized that his hand was bleeding.

The Rizhiner's youngest son, Reb Mordechai Feivish, would spend several hours concentrating on shaking the lulav and esrog. He shook so intensely at times that it looked as though he was going to faint. Once, he coughed up blood out of exhaustion, not realizing that he had stained his esrog with his blood. 

And this recalls the story of the second Skverer Rebbe, Reb Dovid, who while slicing a piece of bread, sliced into his finger, and did not take notice of it right away. When his wife saw blood dripping from the counter she ran for the doctor. While the doctor sat at the table stitching up Reb Dovid's hand, Reb Dovid sat immersed looking into a sefer. Such was his prishus (separation from earthly happenings).

And this, of course, recalls the story of the "Ezkara Gedolah" of the first Modzitzer Rebbe. Read Inspiration Under the Surgeon's knife by clicking "Modzitzer Rebbe" on the right side column.


A few days before Sukkos one year, the Chassam Sofer was interviewing two prospective students for his illustrious yeshiva in Pressburg. There was only one slot left open for the new zman (session). One turned out to be a young man of extraordinary learning, while the other turned out to be quite average. The Chasam Sofer's mind was made up. He accompanied the bachurim off the grounds of the yeshiva and, on their way out into the yard, they saw the sukkah being erected. One bochur, the talmid chochom, stepped onto the schach (bamboo used for the top of the sukkah) on the ground, and the other walked around the schach. Said the Chasam Sofer later, "for someone to trample on a mitzvah?" And now his mind was made up for sure.


According to Abudraham, the reason that the lulav is waved several times during davening is because it signifies a gesture of triumph. Just as kings wave their flags over territories they have won from their enemies, so too do we wave the lulav to proclaim victory over the accusers on Yom Kippur.

Reb Elimelech, Reb Zusya and Teshuva

A story of teshuva (repentance) for Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement), which may be a little bit difficult to interpret.

It was the custom in Berditchev that when someone in the town passed away, his tefillin would go to the chevra kaddisha (burial society), which would then sell off the tefillin to raise funds. Reb Levi Yitchak once visited the chevra kaddisha looking to purchase a new pair of tefillin. He looked over the many pairs, and finally picked one out. The head of the chevra kaddisha, with eyes opened wide, said, "surely Reb Levi Yitzchak is not looking to buy an ordinary, used pair of tefillin! Why this particular pair? There has to be a very good reason for this." Reb Levi Yitzchak stood in silence. After further cajoling, he decided to tell him why, in fact, he chose this particular pair of tefillin to buy.

"As is well known," said Reb Levi Yitzchak, "the brothers Reb Elimelech of Lizhensk and Reb Zusya of Hanipoli would travel the countryside in order to make ba'alei teshuva (returnees to Judaism). While spending the night with a host, it was their custom to play a little game. But this was no ordinary game, but rather a holy game. It had the intention of awakening a fire in dormant souls. One would play Rebbe, while the other would play a Jew coming to him to confess an imagined sin, and he would then take upon himself a penance proscribed by the Rebbe. The host would hear the wail of the sinner, and come to the realization that he too had committed that selfsame transgression, whereby he would come to seek repentance for his sin.

"On this particular occasion, Reb Elimelech played Rebbe. Reb Zusya cried out, 'I must confess! I have gone my entire life without checking my tefillin. I finally went to a sofer (scribe), and discovered that there were no scrolls inside the tefillin whatsoever!' The host, listening by the door, began to tremble. He himself had gone his entire life without getting his tefillin checked. When Reb Elimelech explained to his brother what a serious offense this was, their host swung open the door, and cried out, 'I too am guilty of the same offense!' He ran to fetch his tefillin, and brought them in to the brothers. Reb Elimelech opened them up, only to discover that there were no scrolls inside. Upon the sight of two empty casings, their host cried out, once again. 'Please Rebbe, tell me what to do to repent for this sin!' Reb Elimelech now told his brother to take out a pen, ink, and parchment, and write out a set of scrolls for their host. 'And as you write, make it your solemn objective to draw down into their words the kind of radiance from above that will be of the intensity appropriate to a man who has never fulfilled the mitzvah of tefillin his entire life.' The intensity of this awesome light ended up being so potent and forceful that it was too much for the man to bear. Soon after he received the new parchments he moved to Berditchev, and died shortly thereafter.

"And these are the tefillin that have made their way into the hands of the chevra kaddisha of our city," concluded Reb Levi Yitzchak.


So besides for the awesome connection above that Reb Levi Yitzchok had forged, in this case manifesting itself through his detecting the tefillin in Berditchev with the intense radiance emanating therefrom, and besides for Reb Elimelech's and Reb Zusya's connection and deep insight into their hosts' lives in the countryside, what else is this story telling us? Is it that Reb Zusya's power in bringing down the light or his any other act wrapped in holiness for that matter, was beyond the power that any human could endure? Surely there are other stories of Reb Zusya making ba'alei teshuva that endured. Could it be that there is actually no recourse and no teshuva suitable for the sin of not donning tefillin for the majority of one's life? That's very frightening if that is the case.



Speaking of secondhand items, there is the story of a tzaddik who spent the night at an inn. In the morning he came down to the innkeeper, and remarked, "there was something about the clock in my room last night. My entire life, when I hear a clock strike the hour, I think that I have one less hour to live. But upon hearing that clock strike the hour I continually thought that I am one hour closer to the coming of Meshiach. What is it about that clock?? I must have it." The innkeeper decided to sell it to him, but the clock came with a story. "It had actually belonged to the Chozeh of Lublin. Somewhere down the line, his grandchildren fell into debt, and sold it to me. It has been hanging in that room ever since."

25th of Nissan - Yahretziet of the Divrei Chaim

The following is a shocking and somewhat disturbing story. When I read this story in the Pshevorsker Rebbe's sefer, Shelosh Esrei Oros - Sippurei Kodesh, I wrote to Rabbi Tal Zwecker for some more information on the asceticism of the Rebbe Reb Elimelech and some of his disciples. The Pshevorsker Rebbe heard this from the mouth of Rav Ephraim Dovid Halberstam and others.

But just for some background, the Rebbe Reb Elimelech's greatest desire was to separate from the world of materialism, and he practiced strict self-denial as a means of attaining higher degrees of ruchnius (spirituallity). He abstained from alcohol, and fasted regulary. He went as far as to poke himself with sharp thorns. But he dicouraged his disciples from using such forms of asceticism as a means of coming closer to G-d, but there were those, such as Reb Naftali Ropshitzer, who ignored his advice, and followed in his severe ways.

Reb Naftali or Ropshitz was the badchan (a kind of comedian) of Rebbes. But he was a holy badchan. He made people laugh. He made other Rebbes laugh. He made jokes of other Rebbes, and he still made them laugh. He was once traveling incognito, and stopped at an inn for a rest. There was a wedding going on, but the calah, the bride, was spotted sitting at a table and crying. He went over to her, and asked what was wrong. She responded that the two families were poor, and that they could not afford a badchan for the wedding. Reb Naftali replied, "I'm a badchan!" He stood up, and began improvising on the spot to the delight of the bride and to all those assembled. But there was another side to Reb Naftali, and it wasn't all jokes. Although discouraged by his Rebbe, Reb Elimelech, he did adopt some of his severe practices, as we'll see.

The Ba'al Shem Tov went out of his way to discourage self-denial and intentional physical affliction. He taught that asceticism leads to depression and an even greater spiritual danger, that of pride.

The Divrei Chaim, Reb Chaim Halberstam of Sanz, was a student of Reb Naftali, but this story only tells of the Divrei Chaim's recounting of a story of his Rebbe. Reb Halberstam, in addition to his excellence in Torah and kabbalah, was known for his compassion and humility. The poor knew that they would always have a hot meal either directly from the Divrei Chaim, who gave away practically all of his money to the poor, or through one of his organizations to help the needy.

Reb Shlomo Halberstam, first Rebbe of Bobov, was the grandson of the Divrei Chaim. One day they were taking a ride in an open carriage to take in some of the crip cold air. The Divrei Chaim became engrossed in his thoughts, and seemed to sink into an otherworldy state of consciousness. Reb Shlomo, a young man at the time, noticed a high flame coming from his grandfather's pipe ("lulka"). He was worried that the flame might catch onto the wooden side panel of the carriage and set the carriage on fire. He moved close to his grandfather to cover the flame with the iron lid of the pipe, but burned his hand in doing so. Still worried about the flame, and not wanting to wake his grandfather, he began to switch his fingers on the iron lid, so that he would not burn himself futher. When the Divrei Chaim woke up from his dveikus he saw his grandson moving his fingers and switching his hands on the lid of the pipe in order not to get burned. The Divrei Chaim took the pipe out of his mouth, and said, "HA! (you think that's something?) One day I was walking with Reb Naftali and the Rebbi of Kaminka on a cold afternoon on the icey streets. The Kaminka Rebbe and I walked ahead of Reb Naftali, who kept stopping along the way. We became curious, and walked back to Reb Naftali, who was a distance behind us. As we approached, we noticed a pool of blood surrounding him. We looked around, and found blood in all of the spots where he had stopped. His shoes were off and his feet were frostbitten and stuck to the ice. Apparently, he would stand long enough so that his feet would cling to the ice, and he would then tear his feet from the ice, thereby tearing some of his skin off in the process, and his foot would begin to bleed.

Preparing for the Satmar Rebbe

We are all familiar with the kedusha of the first Satmar Rebbe, and even if we oppose some of his more controversial views, we are still in awe of his saintliness. The following two stories illustrate how he was viewed and held in esteem by other gedolim of the time.

In the Skulener Rebbe's later years he was very sick. At one point he was advised to see a doctor not far from Kiryas Yoel, the Satmar village in upstate New York, which was home to the Satmar Rebbe. The Skulener Rebbe asked that on the trip upstate he stop by the Satmar Rebbe before the doctor's appointment for a bracha (blessing) for good health. The meeting was arranged between the respective gabbaim. The Skulener Rebbe fell asleep in the car ride upstate, and when he was awoken by his gabbai he found himself already in Kiryas Yoel. The Rebbe's gabbai had gone in to the Satmar Rebbe, letting the Skulener get his rest, and when the gabbai finally woke up the Rebbe, he told him that the Satmar Rebbe was waiting for him, "now," at that exact moment. The Skulener Rebbe, incredulous, asked, "vos?" The gabbai repeated, "the Satmar Rebbe is waiting for you. I just went in to him a minute ago, he's waiting for you right now. We have to go in right now!" The Skulener Rebbe, again incredulous, asked, "vos??" The gabbai said, "but you said that you wanted to get the Rebbe's bracha before you went to the doctor...because you've been sick..." The Skulener Rebbe said, still with a look of astonishment on his face, "you expect me to go in to see the Satmar Rebbe without hachanah (preparation)? To just start talking to him?" The gabbai pleaded with him, "this is your one chance, we have to get to the doctor's office, you can still meet with the Rebbe for a few minutes. You said that you needed his bracha!" The Rebbe again exclaimed, "without hachanah???" He told the gabbai that it was out of the question. They turned the car around, and went straight to the doctor's office. The Skulener Rebbe never met with the Satmar Rebbe again, and never got his bracha. It simply wasn't possible for him to speak with, and be in the presence of the holy Satmar Rebbe without lengthy preparations in ruchnius (spirituality).

Rav Segal, the Manchester Rosh Yeshiva was planning a trip to America. An avreich from the kollel came up to him, and asked for a favor: "I know that the Rosh Yeshiva is planning on meeting with the Satmar Rebbe during his trip to the States. My wife and I have been trying for years to have a child, but with no success. Would the Rosh Yeshiva be so kind as to get a bracha from the Satmar Rebbe during his meeting?" Rav Segal assured him that he would.

Rav Segal prepared with a six hour mussar seder before he met with the Rebbe! He cried, and he beseeched, with his head toward shamayim (heaven). Only then was he prepared to meet the Rebbe face to face. After the meeting, as Rav Segal was walking back to the car, his gabbai said, "oy! You forgot to ask for the bracha for the avreich at the yeshiva! OK, let's run back in quickly." The Rosh Yeshiva said, "vos?" He said "it'll take a second, let's just run back in, the door is probably still open!" The Rosh Yeshiva asked, incredulously, "vos?? You expect me to go in to see the Satmar Rebbe without hachanah?" The gabbai pleaded, "but you just came out! You were just in a very lofty state. You prepared for six hours beforehand. And you promised this avreich a bracha from the Satmar Rebbe." The Rosh Yeshiva said "It's completely out of the question. I will not walk in to see the Satmar Rebbe without proper hachanah" "What are we supposed to do?" questioned the Gabbai. "I'll have to give him the bracha myself," said Rav Segal. "There's just no other way." And so they left, and later flew back to Manchester. The Rosh Yeshiva did give the avreich a bracha, and less than a year later on Rosh Hashana it was whispered into the Rosh Yeshiva's ear before tekiah shofar that the bracha had come to fruition. Rav Segal took a chance, and it worked out for the best. But there was no way he would look in the Satmar Rebbe's eyes without hachanah.

Just a thought. At the end of parshas mishpatim Rashi cites two views on the pasuk "vayishkon kevod Hashem al har sinai, vayechaseihu he'anan sheishes yamim - and the glory of Hashem rested on Mount Sinai, and the cloud covered it/him for six days." In Rashi's second pshat "vayechaseihu" refers to Moshe. "The cloud rested on 'him' for six days," rather than on Har Sinai. And this teaches, as Rashi says, that when one comes into contact with the "machane shechinah - the camp of the divine presence," one must separate and prepare oneself for six days. Perhaps Rav Segal viewed the Satmar Rebbe as an emissary of the Shechinah, and used the number six here on a human scale, preparing for six hours before his holy meeting with the Rebbe.

And, similarly, in regard to the inyan (subject) of kedushas hashishi (sanctity of the "sixth"), after the passing of Reb Elimelech of Lizhensk, someone went to the cook of the house, and said, "please. Please tell me something about Reb Elimelech; what it was like working in his house. Tell me something about the tzaddik, please." The woman was reticent, and looked away. He pleaded with her, "please, tell me something about the tzaddik; something you learned while being in his house; something that went on." On the third attempt the shy woman came right at him, and said, "one thing. There's ONE THING! And that is EREV SHABBOS (the eve of shabbos)." She said, "EREV SHABBOS! The kedusha (holiness) in the house on erev shabbos! At midday the tzaddik already had his head against the wall whispering, 'shabbos kodesh, shabbos kodesh.' We went around the house saying to each other, 'gut shabbos, gut shabbos.' The kedusha in the house on erev shabbos was almost as great as on shabbos kodesh itself! Although we were still preparing for shabbos, erev shabbos was already mei'ein olam habbah (a taste of the world to come)."

Could we fathom what shabbos must have been like in the home of Reb Elimelech if erev shabbos involved such preparations in ruchnius, and was a holy day in itself.