Chassidim, The Gerrer Rebbe, and I

For Jews, virtually all of the 2000 years of the Diaspora were the dark ages.  To suffer inquisitions and expulsions, to be forced into involuntary ghettos, to be the subject of murderous pogroms, to be universally despised and considered useless by the peoples in whose counties they inhabited; this was the normal form of existence.

There were a few notable exceptions:  For a time in Spain when they were ruled by tolerant Moors, until the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella who banished the entire Jewish population, and the few years of peaceful living in the provinces of Alsace Lorraine, where lived the great Rashi, and where the great Rabbis taught enlightenment, and explained the pure teachings of the sages.  Otherwise it was complete derogation, isolation, and unbearable pain.  It was as if God himself was punishing the Jews.

The cry was Ali Ali lomo lazav toni, "God, my God, why have you forsaken us?"  Yet, when life was in its darkest moments, in the middle of the 16^th century in central Europe emerged a new Rebbe.  He was recognized as a man who gave new meanings, and a new approach, to the divine.

He was known then, and we remember him now, as the Baal Shem Tov. "Master of the Divine Name"

He brought hope, songs, and dancing, and his followers formed great comradeships.  Life for the Jews somehow became brighter.

The Rabbi attracted a huge following.  These followers were called Chassidim.  Other Rabbis were influenced by his teachings, and the movement of "Chassidim" flourished.  The movement is still very much in existence.  The majority of Jews, however, did not embrace the movement.  Most Jews lived relatively simple lives; religion was not something one chose – it was just part of their everyday life.  No one in our western family was ever a Chassid; a follower of the "chosen" man.

Yet many well educated people were so influenced with this one leader that their lives were completely changed by his teachings, and they became a part of the movement.  These people, who often became Chassidim leaders were not called Rabbis; this term was reserved for the head spiritual leader of a congregation, if not of an entire town.

The Chassidim leaders were called Rebbes.  They, and their followers, were scattered throughout many parts of Europe, encompassing many countries. They were often identified by the towns in which they lived and taught.

I remember hearing of the Trizker Rebbe, the Belzer Rebbe, the Voliner Rebbe, and the Klotzker Rebbe – even my little shtetel had a resident Rebbe.  This quiet man lived alone with his wife in a secluded area, and he had only about two dozen followers.  Yet they were loyal and maintained the Rebbe in a modest way, visiting him constantly.

The best known Chassidic Rebbe was the Goan (Sage) Gerrer Rebbe.  It was estimated that he had between 100,000 to 200,000 followers.   They came from all over Europe, even from America.  The Gerrer Rebbe ran his domain as if it were an empire.

He lived in a great home, had his own large prayer house (Shul), and his study house.  His control and influence was absolute.  No Chassid made any decision without consulting with his leader, or at least letting him know of his intentions.

These followers constantly came to visit their leader.  They brought petitions, written pleas asking for advice and help.  These papers "Kwitlach," were given to the men who were the Rebbe’s caretakers, and often there was money attached to these petitions.

They all looked at their leader as a representative – the nearest link to God.  He would surely bring on the coming of the Messiah and maybe, just maybe, HE, himself, is the Messiah and just waiting to reveal himself.

All the time these followers were like brothers to one another and were taught that they must support each other.  Some took this literally.  I remember one poor filthy man, with torn dirty clothes, coming into our town and calling on the shtetel’s richest man, exclaiming that the Rebbe sent him to stay with this family until he was provided with food, new clothes, and some money to help him with the dowry for his daughters.  And this was accomplished.

My grandfather Shmuel was a remarkable man. He also had a wanderlust, a desire to travel.  He would use any excuse to take some journey, a trip to a new place.  He took me along on many of these travels.

One trip I will never forget, although it was a long, long time ago.  I was only about 9 or 10 years old then.

We took the train to Warsaw (this alone was remarkable).  And we stayed in a real hotel!  We took a "Droshki," a luxurious leather covered spirited horse drawn private carriage.  This was to be the most prestigious vehicle that I was ever to experience.

I was told that we were going to Gora – Kalwana, about 20 miles away.  I soon found out the Gora is called in Yiddish: GER.

Grandpa attended to his business.  It was to sign a contract to build school desks that we occasionally made for the authorities.

That night Grandpa said we were going to see the Gerrer Rebbe.

"Why," I asked. "We don’t believe in Chassidism."

We came into a very large room in the Gerrer Rebbe’s home.  A long table stretched from end to end.  At the head sat this famous man surrounded by worshipers and attendants.  I recall he had a nice face and a long beard.  There were long benches on both sides of the table occupied by Chassidim, and there were rows and rows of people standing on all sides.  All of them paid close attention to every word and every move of their idol.

Zaida, my grandfather, wore traditional Jewish clothing, the little black hat, dark clothes, and a long capote.  I never wore this type of garment.  I always wore European tailor made jackets and pants and a big wide rimmed brown hat (kapalush).

We wanted to a stay out of sight, so we found a dark corner, but even there we could see every move the leader made.

This was his supper time.  A white bread was near him.  He broke off a small piece, took a very small bite, and passed on the bread to the crowd.  It was broken into tiny pieces creating crumbs, but every little morsel was devoured.  Soup was brought out; the same sequence was followed – a little taste, and the rest given to, and savored by, all the Chassidim.  This again occurred with the chicken and all the rest of the food.

Grandpa bent down and whispered in my ear, "Observe – this is all for show. The great man had a full meal before he came in here.  This is just to show off his spirituality."

All the time the Gerrer Rebbe looked down at the gathering and pronounced words of great wisdom; very profound statements about God, Judaism and the virtuous life.

Every word was repeated and repeated, and then the Rebbe started singing, and the Chassidim followed.  It sounded marvelous.  Some Chassidim started to dance.  A few, at the very end of the table, jumped up and danced on the table itself, shaking the whole room.  It was loud and happy.  Soon, some followers started to sing in Yiddish, creating their own words and music.

As we prepared to leave, something very strange happened.  One of the Rebbe’s attendants came over, put an arm on my shoulder, and told me the Holy One wanted to see me alone.

My heart started beating hard and fast.  What would he want from me?

Reluctantly, and scared, I followed the attendant until I was standing next to the great man.

The Rebbe gave no indication that he knew that I was there.

Suddenly he turned, "What is your name?"

"Pinchus ben Boruch-ben Yeshaye Hacohen," I whispered. (Philip the son of Boruch, the son of Iceach Hacohen.)

The singing and profound statements continued to pour out, and then he said to me, "Why don’t you want to be a Rabbi as your grandfather is, and your father could be?"

"I have doubts," I whispered. "I ask too many questions.  I am on a slippery road.  I stumble." - This from a nine year old boy.

"Slippery road? Slippery road," he repeated.  "A slippery road is a good thing.  It teaches us to be careful, to stand upright and to hold on for dear life to something strong like the Torah."

More singing, dancing, and very profound words.

"Yes," I lied.

My grandfather led me away, and we went home.  I smiled at the ridiculous conversation with this fanatic.  I had my busy life to live.  This was the time when Poland was becoming free, and of the Jews' great migration into the rest of the world.  The Tulkops left for America, and so did several of our neighbors.  My father waited for the papers and money from his sisters in San Francisco, and then he too left. I  would have to wait 5 more years, until he became a citizen, to start our family on the complicated trip to America.  But it was my hope to go to Palestine on my own.

I fell in love with Faige Gerenraich, a shy lovely girl.  We never kissed or touched, but we were considered to be a couple to be united in the Holy Land.

There was much to do to prepare for my journey to Zion.  My Polish schooling was perfect.  I worked hard and got all "A"s on my reports.  But I was not destined to go to Palestine.  Instead I accompanied my family to America.

Although I was initially disappointed, I prospered in America.  I had many success and accomplishments in the United States.  As life progressed I wrote for newspapers, I was an editor, wrote plays and poetry, established my own woodworking shop that I owned for 30 years, became a painter and a sculptor, (not great, but recognized as more than an amateur), a successful salesman, and even enjoyed a few more worthwhile accomplishments.

And one night I woke up and realized that I was 84 years old! How was this possible?  When did I become an old man?  Where did all the years go?

The nightmares started.  I am lost in narrow streets.  I see the big highway but I can’t reach it – blind alleys ---"No exit."  I am in an area of mountains.  I can see the bus line, the wide street, but I can’t get out.  "No exit,"  and memories began to emerge.  Long forgotten incidents come to the fore, but I don’t want to lean on memories.

True, I have a great family, a lovely wife whom I love and admire but is this all?

And now the recollection of meeting the Gerrer Rebbe intrudes.  How did he see me, know about me, and try to direct me to a religious future?

Again and again I recollect our encounter.  I remember every word, except what book and chapter would change my destiny. 

The road not taken.

I am 94 years old now.  Too late for anything.  I still hate fanaticism, but how did this man pick me out?  What was this light shinning from me?  What was predicted for me in a Holy Book?

Can one person really have a good inside look into another person’s possible future?  What did he see for me?

It is too late for me to find out, but I can speculate and imagine.

P.S. This Gerrer Rebbe was Grand Rabbi Abraham Mordechai Alter (1866-1948) known as the Imrei Emes after the title of his major book. He was succeeded by his oldest son, Grand Rabbi Yisroei Alter (1895-1977).