‘It’s Worthwhile’ to Listen to the Rebbe
The following was transcribed by Bentzion Elisha from a Farbrengen in Bais Levy Yitzchak, Pomona NY with Rabbi YY Bukiet.
My father started feeling unwell soon after my older sister moved to California in the summer of 1968. Together with her husband, Rabbi Yerachmiel Stillman, they moved to Los Angeles California to become Shluchim in UCLA and cater to the souls of the Jewish college students there. She tried to persuade my father to come visit for a few weeks so he can rest awhile. She knew his nature well. He completely immersed himself in his work, not resting for even a second. As long as he would stay in New York, he would overwork himself, so she pushed him to get away from it all and come to California so he can recover and feel better. He was inclined to pass on her offer being that the Rebbe spoke harshly against traveling in general then, being that it was so expensive. In addition, he had a good excuse to get out of it. He had 3 or 4 younger boys in the house, and since flying was so terribly expensive, he simply didn’t have the money for such a huge expenditure.
Despite his initial disinterest she didn’t relent and kept pushing and pushing him until he finally acquiesced and said he’ll ask the Rebbe. “Whatever the Rebbe will say, I will do.” He surrendered. The Rebbe’s response was primarily of just two words, ‘Kdai Hu’, ‘It’s worthwhile,’ followed by, ‘Azkir Al HaTzion,’ I’ll mention the matter by the gravesite of the Frierdiker Rebbe.
That was it. With the Rebbe’s encouragement which he took as a directive, he booked train tickets for him, my mother and my younger brothers with Amtrak.
They traveled cross country to the west coast for three days until they finally arrived on a Thursday afternoon. When it came to Shabbos plans, my sister suggested he Daven by the Chabad house but then afterwards they would have dinner with her in the house.
“No, no!” My father protested.
“The Rebbe said ‘Kdai Hu.’ That’s not a normal answer. There’s a special reason I’m here. I’m going to have my meal at the Chabad house…””Ta. You’re going to be here for five or six weeks. Rest up a little. You can go next week or the week after, on another Shabbos.” She countered. ‘No way!” My father proclaimed, adamantly putting his foot down.
On Friday night the UCLA Chabad house hosted around 80 or 90 college students. Sometimes even more. They had tables for boys and tables for girls. This Friday night, my brother-in-law, Rabbi Stillman, organized the tables in a way that there was a head table where my father was to sit, as he would be the esteemed guest speaker. They invited him to the head table but he bluntly refused saying, “I’m absolutely not sitting at the head! I’m going to sit between the boys! “He then walked around the table and sat himself down between two college students. He started breaking his teeth speaking to them in his special blend of ‘Yinglish’, broken English and Yiddish. To my fathers’ shock, one of these boys started speaking back to him in perfect Yiddish, completely unexpected from a student in UCLA. Shocking him further, after my father told him where he is from, originally from Chmielnik Poland, the student aghast, said that his Bubby and Zeide are from the same city of Chmielnik. He then recounted the memories his Zeide shared with him of the town which included the Shul there and the red pump in the city square to my father’s utter disbelief. That night my father Farbrenged with them for a good few hours.
This student later told him that there is a Chmielnik Society in Los Angeles and he urged him to speak to its members. For the most part, he lamented, they were disenchanted with Yiddishkeit due to their traumas in the Holocaust. Remembering the guiding words of the Rebbe, encouraging his trip with the words: ‘Kdai Hu’, ‘it’s worthwhile,’ he connected it with the offer to speak to the older people from Chmielnik, and immediately agreed to go and speak with them.
‘Perhaps this is what the Rebbe had in mind when he said ‘Kdai Hu’.’ He said. After Shabbos, the student called his contact in the society and they arranged for him to speak the following Thursday evening which coincided with their monthly gathering. As word got out amongst them, these older people of the society got excited. They all knew of my fathers’ family. His grandfather was the shochet of the town and they were all thrilled to meet his grandson. That Thursday night when they met, he tried to open their hearts and rekindle the fire of Yiddishkeit that was blown out by the tragedies they experienced. He could really relate to them, besides being from the same town, he also went through the Holocaust and he lost all of his family, too. They were so proud of him, as one of their own, a boy from their town who had ‘made it’. He became a Rosh Yeshiva and a Rov.
After the moving night they shared together, someone wrote about it and put it up on the bulletin. Mostly for those who missed it. They mentioned that my father, the Shochet’s grandson, came and spoke to them but whoever missed seeing him still has a chance to contact him as he’ll be staying in the area for the next few weeks. They put down the college students number who would be the mediator, the go-between.
As a result, a woman who had missed the gathering called and requested a meeting with my father saying she had something very important to tell him. He strongly sensed something extraordinary was about to happen so he had everyone in the family wear Shabbos clothes.
They all went to the Chabad house wearing their best clothes to meet this woman with the important message.
This lady recalled how she was in the same train car as my fathers’ parents in 1943 around Succos time, as they were forcefully being driven to a death camp. After traveling for a few days on this full train, she noticed how at times the train would slow down, by various turns. She suggested to my grandmother (my fathers’ mother) that at those slower times they could climb up the tall window and jump out of the train. Then they could run to the forest and escape the certain death the train was leading them to. My grandmother sadly said she couldn’t do it. She was already older and thought the fall would either severely hurt her or worse. But she encouraged this lady, who was young then, to jump and helped her by lifting her up to the window when the train slowed down again, thus saving her life. Before she jumped away, my grandmother ask her one thing…
(When the war broke out my father returned from Yeshivah back home. His friends from Yeshivah would send him letters stating that the Frierdiker Rebbe is telling them to leave Poland, to escape. Nevertheless, his parents refused to let him go, being that he was their only child. They took him to various Rabbanim to prove to him that he should stay as he kept asking to leave. Finally, by Purim time he just ran away and left his parents behind. However, he never did forgive himself. After he arrived in America, for months after, he would go to the Manhattan agency that announced, bi weekly, lists of survivors, hoping at least one of his parents were spared, which unfortunately didn’t happen.)
“Please do me a favor. If you ever meet my son, tell he did the right thing. He shouldn’t feel bad that he left us behind. It was a good thing to listen to the Rebbe. I will have a Zecher, a remembrance and a continuation.” My grandmother requested, accepting her fate, by staying on the train.
‘Kdai Hu,’ ‘It’s worthwhile’.
It was worthwhile for my father to listen to the Frierdiker Rebbe during the war, to save his life.
‘Kdai Hu,’ ‘It’s worthwhile’.
It was worthwhile for my father to listen to the Rebbe then (1968/9), to complete a painful personal circle.
‘Kdai Hu,’ ‘It’s worthwhile’.
It’s worthwhile for all of us to listen to the Rebbe now too.
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In merit of R’ Levi Yitzchok ben R’ Chaim A”H
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* Rabbi YY Bukiet is a Meshiv in Yeshivas Tomchei Temimim Mayan Torah of Pomona, NY. Previously he was a Magid Shiur in Yeshivah Ohr Elchonon Chabad in Los Angeles, CA, for over 45 years.
* Rabbi Chaim Meir Bukiet (the father) was the Rosh Yeshiva of the Central United Lubavitcher Yeshiva in Ocean Parkway, Brooklyn, NY, for several decades.
* Bentzion Elisha is the author of the book ’18 Frames of Being’, available on Amazon.
