Ovad Chosid Min Ho’Oretz – An Open Letter

Dear Friends, שיחיו,

This past Sunday the world of Shlichus had a tremendous loss with the untimely passing of Hachossid Hagoan Horav Hatomim R. Avrohom ben Yitzchok Isaac Halevi Levitansky, leaving behind a wife and large Mishpachah, ka”h.

Rabbi Levitansky was a shliach and a Rav who was loved and held dear by the entire family of shluchim. We witnessed his ready commitment to be available to us and do anything he could to help when we reached out to him without ever asking for anything in return. He will sorely be missed by all.

Please click the Extended Article and continue reading this letter!

In accordance with the Rebbe’s instructions of “והחי יתן אל לבו” – and the living shall take to heart – those who have a story, an experience or an encounter that they would like to share with the family are asked and encouraged to take a moment to share it with the family by sending an email to LevitanskyFamily@gmail.com.

Many people have asked for an opportunity to reciprocate his kindness. We have therefore set up a website where Shluchim and Anash can help by contributing to the personal needs of his family and continuing his work of Shlichus.

Please click here to contribute online.

Bibirkas V’heikitzu V’ranenu Shoichnei Afar Vehu Besoichom, Umalkeinu B’roisheinu, Amen.

Sincerely,
Friends of Chabad of Simcha Monica

P.S. Speaking of stories of Rabbi Levitansky, we would like to share an anecdote that he often repeated about his own grandfather:

“My grandfather was a traveling salesman in the Jewelry trade. His travels took him to small cities in the mid-west and northern United States. One day in the early 1930’s as he was traveling through a rural town, he saw a fire on a farm. He stopped to look and saw the farmers from all the neighboring farms form a fire brigade. All their efforts unfortunately failed. The farmers stood around and mourned the loss. ”Poor John,“ they said ”everything is gone.“ ”John, we are so sorry.“

”My Zaide hearing this spoke up in his European accent, “I’m shorry ten dollars vorth, how much you shorry.” His words took the farmers by surprise. Not only that he was sorry, but that he was putting money where his mouth is ($10 in those days was a handsome sum). Each farmer, taking my Zaide’s cue spoke up one by one, pledging a dollar or two to help poor John. Eventually enough money was collected to rebuild the farm.”