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.

28th of Teves, The Vigor of Shabbos in Skver

The 28th of the month of teves is a day of thanksgiving in Skverer communities worldwide. It was on this date that the second Skverer Rebbe, Reb Dovid'l (1848-1919), as he was affectionately known, survived a great fall and a number of serious bodily injuries. A seudah hoda'ah (meal of thanksgiving) is held by Skverer chassidim on this date.

The Rebbe made his residence in Skvira, and later in Kiev after the outbreak of the Russian Revolution. The following story takes place during one the Rebbe's visits to the Romanian city of Kishinev. Interestingly enough, Kishinev in Romanian means "water" or "flowing water," and the story happens to take place in a mikvah (ritual bath). Although reserved and understated, in the style of Skverer chassidus, Reb Dovidl's influence was great. Upon his first visit to Kishinev he made so many new chassidim that they began work on a Skverer shtiebl a few days into his trip.

During a subsequent visit one shabbos the Rebbe had been up late into the night learning. He suddenly felt the urge to go to the mikveh. As he was still somewhat unfamiliar with the mikveh he had to feel his way around at the top of the stairs in the pitch dark. Trying to find his way he tripped and went tumbling down the entire flight of stairs, and landed straight in the mikveh with a great splash. A non-Jew who lived next door to the mikveh was awoken, and he wasn't very happy. He figured that an animal must have been wandering about in the darkness of night, and fallen down the steps to the mikvah. He grabbed a long stick and made his way there. As he approached the water he saw only a vague form, and began prodding and jabbing this form with the stick. The form in the dark only splashed around, but would not make its way out of the mikveh. So he began to poke and prod even harder. The Rebbe at this point was practically unconscious, and lying face down in the water, finally let out a scream. Upon realizing that this was, in fact, a human being, this non-Jew helped lift the Rebbe out of the water, and apologized profusely. He helped him up the stairs, apologized again, and bid him goodnight. The Rebbe, beat up and barely able to walk, then realized: he hadn't toivled (immersed) properly. He made his way back down the stairs in the dark, and went into the mikveh, this time with the proper kavanah (holy intentions).

Shabbos day was one remembered well by the chassidim of Kishinev. The Rebbe was inordinately fiery, and his davening was exuberant. His energy and enthusiasm at the tish were beyond his normal capacity. All was well.

After shabbos the Rebbe began to have pains, and a doctor was summoned. During the examination the Rebbe collapsed to the floor, and fell unconscious. With broken bones and wounds to the body the Rebbe would spend the next few months in bed. He would, however, survive. What the doctor couldn't figure out was how he made it standing from the night before, never mind his energy at davening, his words of Torah, and the tish. It was only for the sake of shabbos that the Rebbe was able to leave his physical body behind.


In a related incident, Reb Asher of Pshedborz, father of the Yid Hakadosh of P'shischa, passed away on a Friday in the year 1798. Since the funeral took place just before shabbos, the Yid Hakadosh, Reb Yaakov Yitzchak, spent shabbos in Pshedborz. Gedolim, talmidei chachomim, machers, and the rest of the town came out to lay eyes on Reb Yaakov Yitzchak. And over shabbos they could not believe what they saw. Hours after his father's passing, Reb Yaakov Yitzchak's face was radiant! He conducted himself Friday night as he would any other shabbos throughout the year. He presided at the tish, his face alight. He gave over glowing words of Torah, and led the zemiros. And on shabbos day he davened with a fiery passion. He was b'simcha throughout the day, and the chassidim became annoyed. After all, his beloved father, their beloved Rebbe, had passed away just the day before. It is known that one is forbidden to mourn on shabbos, but dancing and singing to boot? The end of shabbos came, and someone recited havdalah. As the chassidim began to sing "hamavdil," Reb Yaakov Yitchak fell off of his chair and began to wail. He pulled at his hair and banged on the ground. He lay four hours prostrate on the ground in his grief. It was only then that the locals began to get a glimpse of just who the Reb Yaakov Yitzchak, the Yid Hakadosh, was. It was all for the sake of shabbos.

Modzitzer Rebbe's Inspiration Under the Surgeon's Knife

This is the very famous story of the "ezkarah gedolah" by the first Modzitzer Rebbe, Reb Yisroel Taub zt'l. The Modzitzer dynasty has its roots in Kuzmir and Zvolin. Reb Yechezkal of Kuzmir had at least one new niggun composed weekly for his shabbos table. His son, the Zvoliner Rebbe, Reb Shmuel Eliyahu, was known as a musical wonder. When he davened for the amud in his father's beis midrash people were known to have said that they now experienced the meaning of "ve'chol ha'am ro'im es hakolos" "and the entire nation SAW the voices (a verse from the giving of the Torah)." Reb Shmuel's attitude toward negina was that the singer was standing in the Beis Hamikdash (the Holy Temple), and the Leviim were accompanying him. His second son was Reb Yisroel, who began the dynasty of Modzitz.

The year was 1913. The Rebbe's leg had become severely infected, and it was recommended that he take a trip to Berlin to visit a specialist, Dr. Israel. Upon arrival and inspection of the leg Dr. Israel saw no recourse save for amputation. At this point it was a matter of saving the Rebbe's life. They had to amputate, lest the infection spread. He told this to the Rebbe, but it was not a simple matter. The matter of anesthesia was questionable in those days. Many believed that it caused one to lose one's mind, and so there were those who opted for simple surgeries without the use of anesthesia at all. But this was a completely different matter. This was an amputation, the sawing off of a leg. This was physical pain in its most extreme form. The Rebbe thought long and hard, and presented his decision to the doctor. He was going to brave it. Because despite the most severe physical pain conceivable he was a leader to chassidim. They relied on him, and he couldn't take a chance and forget his Torah, and his niggunim too for that matter. He had composed upwards of 300! Dr. Israel agreed that the amputation would be done without the use of anesthesia, and the surgery was to take place immediately.

While under the knife the Rebbe knew well that his only way to get by was through his deep and limitless spiritual connection. A little while into the amputation the Rebbe turned his head and peered out the window. He saw the architecture of the city of Berlin in all its splendor. Colors, edifices, that actually reminded him of Jerusalem! He thought of the contrast between the beautifully built city of Berlin and the destruction of Jerusalem. His mind quickly began to meditate on the words recited during the closing ne'ilah service of Yom Kippur, "ezkerah Elokim ve'ehemaya, bir'osi kol iyr al tiyah be'nuyah..." "I shall remember oh G-d, and I shall moan, when I see every city built on its hilltop, while the city of G-d is degraded to the utmost depth. But despite all this, we are G-d's and our eyes look to G-d...." The Rebbe, after some meditation, reached a high point of dveikus (attachment to the Divine), and began to compose a niggun on these words. He lost himself in negina (song). While the saw was penetrating the skin, and the veins and the arteries, and finally the bone, the Rebbe was experiencing the situation from a completely different realm, pouring his talent of song into the heavenly and otherworldly chambers l'sheim shamayim (for the sake of heaven). It was this faith in and connection to the heavens that he was able to link up with during the procedure that saved the Rebbe from what would have been for most a truly impossible situation to withstand. By the end of the amputation the Rebbe had composed a niggun in 36 parts on the four stanzas of "ezkerah." It was a story that all in the operating room and all those who knew the Rebbe would be telling for years, and are telling to this day. The Rebbe finalized the composition during his recuperation. The composition lasts approximately twenty-five minutes, and is sung on the Yahretzeit (day of passing) of Reb Yisroel in Modzitzer centers every year to this day.



In another medical related incident, Reb Moshe Goldman, the famous composer of Bobover niggunim, had to undergo surgery after some health-related complications. While lying on the table, he composed a niggun in his head. He was not able to use his voice, but said it was his heart that was singing. It took two months to properly fit the niggun to words, and the final result was "vayizaku el Hashem Batzar Lahem." It was released on his next album.

In another medical-related incident, Reb Dovid'l Skverer was once cutting a loaf of bread when he mistakenly cut into his finger. He was well known for his limited attachment to earthly things, but in this case he had hardly realized that his finger needed immediate medical attention. When someone in the house noticed the stream of blood dripping down onto the floor, a doctor was called. While the doctor stiched up the finger, Reb Dovid'l sat, and immersed himself in his learning, seemingly oblivious to the situation.


In yet another medical related incident, the previous Lelover Rebbe, Rav Shimon Nasan Nata Biderman, who passed away last year, was involved in a serious accident involving his fingers. He met with a Dr. Teppler of Brooklyn, and it was decided that a few fingernails would have to be removed in order to stitch the wounds properly. Dr. Teppler was about to administer the anesthesia when the Rebbe asked what was in the syringe. Upon hearing that it was a numbing agent he adamantly refused to have it injected into his body. Dr. Teppler explained the nature of the hyper-sensitive nerves under the fingernails, and explained that it was essential for the patient to keep his hand perfectly still for such a procedure. And that would not be possible without the hand being numbed. But the Rebbe still refused. The procedure was begun, and the Rebbe began humming a niggun and falling into deep thoughts. The Rebbe did not move his hand. When the procedure was complete, the doctor ran out of the room, and brought in a kvittel (a note) to the Rebbe with the names of his close and extended family. He wanted a bracha (blessing) from this Rebbe who exuded saintliness. Doctor Teppler told the Rebbe's gabbai outside that if he had told another doctor what had just transpired, he would not have believed him. He explained that what the Rebbe just experienced is not humanly possible.

Why did the Rebbe refuse to be anesthetized? It is unlikely that it was the same reason that the Modzitzer Rebbe refused. This was many years later. Was it a medical reason? A spiritual reason?






Clip of a recent simcha in Modzitz with the current Rebbe sitting in the middle. They are singing "libi u'vesori," recently composed by the Rebbe.