By Rabbi Moshe Levin

Bubby had a beautiful voice and she would sing a sweet lullaby, Ay Lu Lu, to share her love and faith with her children. Now her children’s children sing it to theirs.

One of Bubby’s favorite songs had these words: “Why did the soul come down to earth from heaven? The descent is for the purpose of ascent.”

She said that when she was growing up in Brighton Beach, she would look out the window at night before bed and sing this song again and again. She would ask Hashem and herself: “Why did my soul come down to this world?”

I remember once when she was singing this song, she said: “You know, Moshe, if you can reach someone and inspire them to sing this song and ask this question, you’ve accomplished a great deal.”

In her last few days, we sang this song often, and she was able to sing along.

She cherished her relationship with her mother. Her mother was asked by the famous Rebbetzin Mandel to move to Williamsburg to teach Jewish girls – “men darf rateven yidishe techter,” we must save Jewish girls! There were no Jewish schools for girls in America at that time. She agreed and immediately moved her family.

This became the first experiment in teaching Torah to girls in America. Mrs. Magnes taught several classes, both for younger and older girls, and soon the Rosh Yeshiva of Torah Vodaas and others sent their daughters. It grew and became the first Bais Yaakov in America.

This dedication to education inspired her to follow in her mother’s footsteps.

Her mother also taught her how to give.

One Friday, the wife of a Torah scholar in Brighton Beach had no food for Shabbos. She came to Mrs. Bassy Magnes and asked, “Could you lend me $10 for Shabbos?”

At the time, they too had nothing for Shabbos — just $10. But she said right away, “Of course, Rebbetzin, it’s our honor.”

The $10 was never returned, but the lesson of that difficult Shabbos was never forgotten.

Once, when things were tight, she asked her mother if she could buy a toy. Her mother said gently, “Rocheleh, don’t be upset. The salvation of G-d comes in the blink of an eye.”

Just then, she found a dollar bill. It was true!

She danced with her mother all the way to shul. Her father was in the middle of teaching a class; she burst in, waving her dollar and shouted, “The salvation of Hashem comes in an instant!”

Before her first day in public school, her mother told her, “When the teacher calls your name, tell her the right way to say it — Rocheleh.”

The teacher read the name as “Rok-a-lee,” and the children laughed, “Broccoli! Broccoli!”

But before they could tease, she stood up straight and said, “No, my name is Rocheleh.”

“Oh!” said the teacher. “Rocheleh — got it.” No one laughed again.

She always remembered how her mother sensed the challenge of sending her into a non-Jewish school, yet empowered her to hold herself with dignity.

Bubby would recall how the whole community went out on the boardwalk on the seventh night of Pesach — the night the sea split — to sing songs to Hashem, as our ancestors did. That memory inspired her prayer and song for life.

When she was in her nineties, I asked her, “Bubby, what do you remember? You must have experienced the inevitable petty shul squabbles, financial challenges…”

She said, “Moshe, you forget those things. Money was always hard, but it always worked out. What I remember is my mother telling me how to daven: Rocheleh, go with the emes — the truth.”

You saw that truth in her davening. She davened all day — with her siddur, while washing dishes, while vacuuming — whispering people’s names all day long.

When she and Rabbi Fogelman moved to Worcester in 1947, they had nothing — no funds, few supporters, and faced opposition. They lived upstairs in the Beth Juda synagogue, in difficult conditions.

Once, when they were by the Rebbe, he told them this story:

Rav Yonasan Eibeschitz was a close advisor to Emperor Leopold, the king of Germany in the 1600s. The ministers were jealous — how could a Jew be the top advisor? The emperor suggested a fair contest: a chicken race. Whoever’s chicken won would be the new minister. All the ministers found big, strong chickens — but Rav Yonasan picked a tiny one. When the race began, the others fought, while his small chicken ran straight to the finish line.

The message was clear: ignore the naysayers and lack of resources. Focus on your mission — and you’ll succeed.

And they did — building a day school, a mikvah, and a seminary for girls.

When the Rebbe questioned why they needed a new building instead of renovating, she said,
“Because a new building will inspire excitement and pride.”

She understood he wanted her to find that conviction herself. That led to the first Chabad building in America.

This was how she led — showing each student her own strength.

When her high school Bais Chana students disappointed her by some juvenile mistake, she told them before returning: “Study Eliyahu’s words: ‘Why do you stand in the doorway? If Hashem is Hashem, follow Him; if Baal is truth, follow Baal.’ What does Chassidus say about this — and what does it mean for you?”

Then she added, “Was there a moment when you were unsure? What would you want to convey to your hesitation?”

Her father once brought her to the Frierdiker Rebbe. She would often say, “There was an otherworldly glow on the Rebbe’s face.” As they left, her father told her, “Rochele, ich glayb af em ruach hakodesh” — I believe this man has ruach hakodesh.

When she became a young Rebbetzin, she was invited with a small group of women to visit the Frierdiker Rebbe. He told them:

“Git iber in mayn nomen az ich hob gezogt az di aleh vos veln ton far Chabad veln matzliach zayn vi oych in zeyere prezenliche inyonim.”

“Give over in my name that all who work for Chabad and its institutions will succeed — also in their personal lives.”

She often shared how he pointed far away, giving a bracha to shluchim and chassidim in the farthest times and places.

Once, when she drove a group of women to visit the Rebbe (one of them a nurse), he said: “A woman’s kind and gentle nature brings healing — and so too in teaching Torah and inspiring others.”

He ended: “Make Worcester into a Chassidic city — so that even in Pittsburgh and beyond, they’ll know Worcester is a Chassidic city.”

He asked her to write it down. She did — and for hours, days, and weeks she faithfully wrote. For months, years, and decades, she traveled toward that impossible vision. But today, thousands of her students have made it true — Worcester is a Chassidic city.

She transcribed that sicha of the Rebbe and the Rebbe edited her transcription – a rare honor – and kept it in his desk for forty years.

She once spoke in the presence of the Rebbe’s mother, Rebbetzin Chana. Her talk began: “Peace to those who are near, and peace to those who are far.”

She explained: “The Talmud says this refers to those who were once far but now are near. How do we draw them near? Rabbenu Tam teaches: words from the heart enter the heart — and words from the Rebbe, who is the heart of all the Jewish people, reach the heart of every single Jew.”

Rebbetzin Chana told her, “You’ve spoken like an eltere chassid — an older, seasoned chassid. Where did you learn this? It’s an inborn trait.”

Later, she named her son Levi Yitzchak after the Rebbe’s father. Rebbetzin Chana said, “I know — my son told me.”

The next three times they met, she asked: “How is Levi Itchikel? How is Levi Yitzchak? How is Rav Levi Yitzchak?”

Today, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak Fogelman is the Chabad emissary in Natick, MA.

She passed away on the seventh of Cheshvan — the day Eretz Yisroel begins praying for rain. We wait until then so the last pilgrim returning home from the Beis Hamikdash won’t be caught in the rain.

Why such selflessness?

Chassidus explains: when we pray, it’s the soul that prays — for everyone. That’s why we say “help us,” “heal us,” “bless us” — not “help me.”

Her mother’s teaching, “Go with the emes,” defined her life.

The theme of the seventh of Cheshvan is deeply connected to Rebbetzin Fogelman. She cared for individuals, and through that, built a Chassidisher city.

She knew why her soul came to this world — not only to rise higher, but to bring Moshiach.

During the first Gulf War, when Saddam’s missiles terrified Israel, the Rebbe pointed to the prophecy in Yalkut Shimoni:
“Where will we go? Moshiach will answer: My children, do not fear — the time for your redemption has arrived.”

When she shared those words, you felt they were real. You knew they were true.

I’ll never forget one man, red-faced with tears, saying, “It’s finally here… it’s going to happen.”

He wasn’t emotional — usually cold and logical — but he could see Moshiach because she did.

And now, as she sees the redemption unfolding from the higher perspective of Heaven, she’s certainly praying that we see it too — physically — and we will.

I’ll never forget how she once called a friend during that friend’s shiva. After she hung up, she called back a minute later and said:

“I just wanted to tell you — now is unquestionably the time of Moshiach. And imminently, he will rise from the dust, and we will be reunited.”