The Kvittel And The Rebbe

A tearjerker!

A wedding at Moshav Talelei Shachar. Uncle Shmuel, the uncle of the chassan, approaches the microphone after the chuppah to say a few words.

"Dear Congregation, for 30 years I am an electrician on the Moshav, but now I feel an obligation to tell a story that is more befitting for a Rabbi than for an electrician. Eight years ago I decided to travel to the death camps in Poland. As you know my parents are holocaust survivors and I felt a strong need to find out where they came from. My wife was against the trip. You don't vacation in Aushwitz, she argued. But ultimately I was able to convince her.

One day we visited a small, unknown death camp where my father was an inmate for four years. We walked around the camp and wiped away tears. Suddenly we saw a man in Chassidic garb, about 85 years old rushing towards us.

"Are you Jews from Israel?"

"Yes".

"Today is our Rebbe's yahrtzeit. His grave is about 5 kilometers north. Go there, write a kvittel [note] and ask for something you need and you will see wonders and miracles. Believe me, any person who came on the yahrtzeit and wrote a kvittel received what he asked for."

Nu, continued Uncle Shmuel, I am not so religious and wanted him to leave me alone. However the Divine Spirit suddenly rested on my wife and she pressured me to go until I relented.

We arrived at the grave and saw Chassidim chuckling back and forth. I wanted to leave but my wife pressured me - "Shmuel, write a kvittel!" What kvittel? I don't speak to dead people, I told her. You write. So my wife took out a pen and paper and wrote something. I have no idea what she wrote. She then found a crack and stuck it in. In the meantime the Chassidim got on their minibusses and left. Suddenly a big Polish farmer came with two pails. He started gathering thousands of kvittlach and placed them in the pails.

"Hello Mister! What are you doing?"

The Polish farmer answered in broken English that once a year he gathers the papers and burns them in his courtyard.

Thousands of people come and write kvittlach to some Rebbe who died a long time ago. What were they writing? The curiosity was killing me. So I decided to pick out ONE kvittel and see what a person wrote. Just one.

Dear Friends, Chosson and Kallah, for 8 years I am walking around with this kvittel and with your permission I will read it.

Shmuel the electrician took out his wallet and pulled out an old, creased, yellowed note and started to read.

"Dear Rebbe,

They tell me that you are connected to the Creator and you make sure that people are granted whatever they ask of you on your yahrtzeit. I am a simple Jewish boy and I have one request. I know a kindhearted girl named Michal. Please do me a favor and ask the Creator to convince her to marry me.

Natan from Moshav Tallelei Shachar"


Natan and Michal - MAZEL TOV! This kvittel was written by our chattan 10 years ago when he was 17 and a half and today I am at his chuppah. Today I see the power an elderly Rabbi possesses to make things happen... Do you understand, from the thousands of kvittlach I took specifically the kvittel of my beloved nephew and guarded it like a treasure. You are right, Shmuel is no big religious guy but Shmuel tells you that you Natan and Michal are not only a match from Heaven - but a match from the kvittlach.

The Chosson Natan ran towards his Uncle Shmuel and looked at the kvittel. "I am shocked, I don't believe it. Only a blind man would not admit that this is a case of Divine Providence. I forgot about it completely. How did you pick it up from the thousands of kvittlach?!

Yes, dear invited guests, Natan forgot about the kvittel, the Rebbe and the request but the Holy Shechina which surrounds the chuppah of this couple caressed his head and sent him a reminder.

Two weeks later Natan and Michal travelled to Poland.

Natan kissed the tombstone and said: "Dear Rebbe, Michal and I are deeply touched. Thank you for your prayers and we promise you honorable Rabbi, to build a holy Jewish home outside the Moshav."

On the other side of the old, creased, yellowed note Michal wrote with a shaking hand the following words:"Daven for us Rebbe that we should succeed on our new path", and she stuck it deep, deep into a hidden crevice so that no Polish farmer would be able to remove it.

Ever.

[Told by Rav Yaakov Levi, Ohr Ha'Emunah Netzvim Vayeilech]