Rabbi Yechezkel Abramsky (1886-1966), the noted Slutzker Rav was arrested and exiled to Siberia — the nightmarish land of terrifying cold and biting wind. In later years he retold the following two incidents that happened there — one, on the day he arrived; the other, on the day he was released.
One of the first things the heartless Russian officers did to welcome newcomers to the horrors of Siberia was to force them to remove their shoes and socks and run barefoot over the frozen tundra. Most people became sick as a result of this ordeal, and many succumbed to pneumonia.
After running over the frozen tundra, Rabbi Abramsky turned to Hashem and cried out, "Tatte, (my father, as he used to call Hashem) it says in Your holy Talmud (Ketubot 30a) "Everything is in the hands of Heaven except for extreme cold and heat" (meaning that man must find ways to protect himself against the elements). Under normal conditions I would try to guard myself from becoming ill, but in this weather and with my lack of warm clothing, I can do nothing, so I am totally in Your hands. Please, Tatte, protect me."
Rabbi Abramsky was never sick during the many years that he spent incarcerated in a Siberian labor camp.
The second story happened on Rabbi Abramsky's final day in Siberia. Erev Yom Kippur, a Russian officer suddenly announced, "You can leave today." He handed Rabbi Abramsky a train ticket to return home and said, "Make sure to give the train officials this ticket, so they will let you board."
Rabbi Abramsky quickly assembled his few belongings and was just about to leave the camp, when another police officer stopped him. The officer looked around to see if anyone was within earshot and asked, "Are you leaving today?"
Rabbi Abramsky was afraid that this officer had come to rescind the previous order. "Yes," he nervously replied. "I am leaving now."
"Let me see your ticket," the officer ordered.
Before Rabbi Abramsky could hand him the ticket, the officer continued, "Are you a duchovner (rabbi)?"
There is no point in lying, thought R' Yechezkel, they probably have all the information anyway. He answered that, yes, he was a rabbi.
The officer looked around to make sure that no one was observing them. Then he looked at Rabbi Abramsky's purple ticket to freedom. "Here, take this other ticket, the yellow one. The one they gave you was for an unheated car. You might freeze to death, and no one would ever know. The yellow ticket will get you on a heated passenger car."
Then looking around again to make sure they were still alone he whispered, "I too am a Yid. I am truly sorry that I was mean to you. Please, please forgive me. I had to follow my orders."
The two men shook hands in a rare moment of mutual compassion and friendship. Then Rabbi Abramsky turned around and left the camp. He was stunned that the Jewish officer had managed to ask forgiveness from him on erev Yom Kippur, probably without even knowing it!
Just as the officer had said, people with the purple tickets were being directed to the unheated cars, while he with his yellow ticket went into a regular passenger car. "What horrible people, those Russians," Rabbi Abramsky thought, "if they don't actually kill a person during his stay in Siberia they try to have him die on the way home. And then with self-righteousness they can claim they had nothing to do with his unforeseen death."
After boarding the train, Rabbi Abramsky realized there was no way he could arrive home before Yom Kippur. Since he had been unable to contact his family to let them know that he was coming home, he decided to get off in a town that he knew had a shul and stay there until after Yom Kippur.
Shortly before nightfall Rabbi Abramsky got off the train in the small town, made his way to the local shul and without having eaten anything the entire day, he began the fast. After Yom Kippur he boarded a train going to Lithuania where he changed to a train bound for Warsaw. During the long ride he noticed a tall man walking through the train corridors. He couldn't believe his eyes! It was his long-time friend, Rabbi Elchonon Wasserman, (who was later murdered by the Nazis), the Rosh Yeshivah of Baranovitch. They fell on each other in a warm embrace, thrilled to be together after not having seen each other for years.
As they began their excited conversation Rabbi Wasserman said to Rabbi Abramsky, "You were freed erev Yom Kippur, isn't that right?"
"Yes, that's right," answered the startled Rabbi Abramsky. "But how did you know that? I didn't have a chance to notify anyone about my release!"
Rabbi Wasserman replied, "I was with the Chofetz Chaim on Erev Yom Kippur. He suddenly stopped what he was doing and said, 'Baruch Hashem the Bolsheviks weren't able to carry out their plans.' I looked at him with surprise. I had no idea what he was referring to, until he added, 'They just released the Slutzker Rav!"
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Maybe the Chofetz Chaim received a whatsapp? Noooooot!!
