‘Ober Vos Tut Zich Mit Ahavas Yisroel?!’

Article by Rabbi Akiva Wagner AH: For most of us, when we try to repair whatever is broken in our ahavas and achdus Yisroel, the problems we need to address are more serious than Rabbi Raichik. And the Rebbe hears our taanos and maanos, our reasoning and rationale, and asks us sharply: “Ober vos tut zich mit ahavas yisroel?!”

By Rabbi Akiva Wagner

Rabbi Shmuel Dovid Raichik was a shadar of the Rebbe and the first shliach to the West Coast. He was an unforgettable chosid, living on a higher plane, while dedicating his life to the Rebbe’s mivtzoim. He was a living example of a person with refined midos and a purified nature.

Reb Shmuel Dovid had a friend who had studied together with him in Tomchei Tmimim in Otvotzk (Otwock, near Warsaw). While Reb Shmuel Dovid was sent to California, this colleague ended up living in a city in the Midwest USA.

At some point, that other Yid was experiencing difficulties with his livelihood and was considering relocating to California. He knew that he had an old friend and colleague there, and he hoped that Reb Shmuel Dovid would be able to assist with certain aspects of his resettlement and to help him with building new connections so that he could establish a business there.

As it happened, unfortunately, Reb Shmuel Dovid was unsuccessful in satisfying his friend’s requests. Undoubtedly, he tried his best, but it just didn’t work out. The friend was disappointed, and he chose to blame Rabbi Raichik. He took it personally and was “broigez” against Rabbi Raichik. Any overture by Reb Shmuel Dovid was rebuffed. 

Reb Shmuel Dovid didn’t see any way that he could force the other fellow to be his friend, so they drifted apart. It wasn’t that Rabbi Raichik had anything at all against his friend ch”v, he didn’t have a vindictive bone in his body, but with his friend choosing to reject him, he didn’t see that there was anything more that he could do.

Years went by, without them attending each other’s simchos or having anything to do with one another.

Once, Reb Shmuel Dovid received a call from Rabbi Chodakov. “The Rebbe wants to know what is happening with so-and-so,” Rabbi Chodakov said, inquiring about the welfare of that very friend.

Reb Shmuel Dovid was surprised by the question. He explained that there had been no contact between them for years. “I have nothing against him ch”v,” he explained, “but he is acting with a ‘broigez’ against me, and doesn’t allow any relationship.”

Rabbi Chodakov heard his explanation and ended the call. Shortly afterward, Rabbi Chodakov called him back, saying: “The Rebbe asked, ‘What happened to ahavas yisroel?!’”

Needless to say, Rabbi Raichik immediately put all his energy into renewing their relationship, disregarding any negative reaction. Around that time, he was marrying off a child, and he sent two of his sons to personally invite this friend to the simcha and ask him to participate. Slowly but surely, Rabbi Raichik’s relentless efforts were effective, and the connection was renewed and continued until Rabbi Raichik’s demise.

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When you think about it, the Rebbe’s demand of Reb Shmuel Dovid was actually quite remarkable! Reb Shmuel Dovid, after all, had nothing against this individual; he was not a person who had the ability to bear a grudge. The negative feelings were completely one-sided – there was really nothing he could have done about it.

But the Rebbe didn’t accept that explanation. His not being more proactive, not taking more initiative on his own to repair the relationship (to the point of being abreast of what is going on in the other’s life), was a failing, a lack of ahavas yisroel. The Rebbe did not accept the excuse or defense that this was caused by the other party.

For most of us, when we get together to try to repair whatever is broken in the state of our ahavas and achdus Yisroel, the problems we need to address are more serious than merely not trying to force a relationship with someone who is rejecting it. Perhaps, for some of us, we are the ones conducting the “broigez.”

What we all have in common, however, with the story, is that we all have explanations and excuses for our behavior. And to us, chances are, they sound as plausible as Reb Shmuel Dovid’s reasoning sounds to anyone. It’s always not our fault; the other person is responsible and the other person is to blame.

But just as – in the story – the Rebbe refused to accept the rationale of Reb Shmuel Dovid, so, too, I think we could be quite certain that he would not attach any legitimacy to our reasons. We should therefore pay a bit closer attention to them ourselves:

Why are we, generally speaking, upset with people? For the most part, because they – in one way or another –  wronged us. This one humiliated me, this one cheated me, this one undercut me, and the other one looked at me in a funny way! There are numerous real or imagined grievances that we think we’re done to us.

But, let’s assume that I’m correct. That I am in the right, and the other person’s behavior is flawed, and that I have a legitimate complaint against him or her. So, someone really wronged me. Why does that make me upset? Do I not believe that the Eibishter runs the world? Do I entertain doubts, ch”v, about what the Alter Rebbe writes in Tanya that על הניזק כבר נגזר מן השמים—that whatever happened to me was unquestionably predestined?

True, that doesn’t vindicate the perpetrator, if he is indeed in the wrong, and he may be liable for רוע בחירתו. But is that why I’m upset with him, because he is a person guilty of making bad choices? Don’t I get along just fine with plenty of people who are far from tzaddikim? So, I am upset at what happened to me. Then I need to reexamine my basic faith in Hashem!

[The story is told about a righteous and upright Jew, who spent his life doing what’s right and serving Hashem with a complete heart. As he aged, he realized that his end was near. Before passing away, he requested of the Chevra Kadisha to bring him a crucifix. To their shock, he began to kiss it and worship it.

To their question, he explained: “I am now at the end of the journey, and I am coming to the next world. What if I get there, and I discover that, after all, the Christians were really right? I need to cover my bases!”]

We learn chassidus, we daven, we cover our eyes and declare unequivocally that Hashem Elokeinu Hashem echod. We know, of course, that ein od milvado, that Hashem is running the world, and that nothing takes place without His orchestrating it. We learn about it in sichos, we repeat it in speeches. And, at some level, we really believe that to be the case.

Until it comes to my metzius. Until something about what someone else said or did is insulting or a slight to me. Then, suddenly we become like the guy in the story. Maybe it’s not really the Eibishter, ch”v. Maybe it was that guy, that human being’s actions, which messed me over, which ruined my job or my family or my shidduch or my cholent. And, if that is indeed the case, then it’s only right that I be angry at him (at least for the foreseeable future).

And the Rebbe hears our taanos and maanos, our reasoning and rationale, and asks us sharply: “Ober vos tut zich mit ahavas yisroel?!”

None of this is novel to any of us. We all know all of these ideas very well, and we truly believe them. But, somehow, our conduct, especially when it comes to ahavas yisroel, belies our basic belief and faith. However, at times, it is up to us to reevaluate our behavior, our bein odom lachaveiro, and to determine whether it truly reflects our philosophy in life and our faith in Hashem.

Let us rededicate ourselves to learning chassidus and living with a vort chassidus and adapting the mindset of chassidus as our own mindset, and this should govern our relationship with our fellows as well as our relationship with the Eibishter. And may the ahavas yisroel and achdus yisroel serve as the fitting preparation for the coming of Moshiach and the Torah chadosho that he will teach us.