Variations on a Hasidic story may reveal the fears and doubts of the sixth Lubavitcher rebbe, Rabbi Yitzhak Yosef Schneersohn, who led Chabad through Stalin’s persecutions and two world wars, transplanted it in America, and transformed his itinerant existence into a global brand

One of the most famous of all Hasidic tales must be that of the illiterate boy whose sincere but unorthodox outburst shattered the sacred soundscape of Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish year. Multiple versions of this story have been told and retold since its original publication in a collection of Hasidic legends by Rabbi Yaakov Margaliyot in 1896.

According to Margaliyot, these tales were of impeccable pedigree: he had heard them from ancestors who’d had personal encounters with the Besht, Rabbi Israel Ba’al Shem Tov (ca. 1700–1760; the name may be translated as “good master of the name” denoting a healer and amulet-maker);), the towering figure who inspired the Hasidic movement.

 

The Boy with the Flute

The following is an English rendition of the tale, reworked with literary license:

David saw the men all about him raise their little books, and read out of them in praying, singing voices.

He saw his father do as the other men did. Then David pulled at his father’s arm.

“Father,” he said, “I too want to sing. I have my flute in my pocket. I’ll take it out, and sing.” […]

Prevented by his father from desecrating the holy day, the boy holds out until the day is almost over.

The boy could hold back his desire no longer. He seized the flute from his father’s hand, set it to his mouth, and began to play his music.

A silence of terror fell upon the congregation. Aghast, they looked upon the boy; their backs cringed, as if they waited instantly for the walls to fall upon them.

But a flood of joy came over the countenance of Rabbi Israel. He raised his spread palms over the boy David.

“The cloud is pierced and broken!” cried the Master of the Name, “and evil is scattered from over the face of the earth!” (Meyer Levin, “The Boy’s Song,” The Golden Mountain [New York, 1932], pp. 132–4)

Different versions of the story include varying degrees of antinomianism; to compensate for his inability to pray, the boy may whistle or recite the names of the letters. The hero also ranges from the Besht himself (in Margaliyot’s rendering) to the boy (in the English account).

In Margaliyot’s tale, Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov reframes the boy’s act as an outburst of inner spirituality; without the Besht’s intervention, the boy appears to have desecrated the holy day. But instead of rebuking him, the Hasidic master

acknowledges that his own spiritual endeavors can be assisted by others’ heartfelt efforts. “The Merciful One desires the heart,” he declares.

This statement is the climax of the tale. The words are a rabbinic idiom, linking the Besht to Jewish tradition despite his lauding an antinomian act. The story essentially recalibrates the spirit/law conundrum: God desires the heart rather than the law.

Less radical is the rendition of Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn of Lubavitch (“Rayatz”; 1880–1950). To appreciate the subtle changes introduced in Rayatz’s account, some knowledge of his career and the challenges he faced is helpful.

 

Man on the Move

Rayatz was born in Lyubavichi, in the Russian Empire – seat of the Lubavitch branch of Chabad Hasidism since 1813. He was the only child of  Shterna Sarah (1858–1942) and Rabbi Shalom Dovber (“Rashab”; 1860–1920), who became the fifth Lubavitcher Rebbe.

In 1897, seventeen-year-old Yosef Yitzchak married his second cousin, sixteen-year-old Nechama Dina Schneersohn (1881–1971) of the Nizhyn branch of Chabad Hasidism. The marriage thus united two Chabad branches.

For much of his adult life, Rayatz was on the move. During the First World War, the Eastern Front advanced into Lyubavichi region. To avoid the horrors of war, Rashab and family fled 1,200 kilometers southeast to Rostov-on-Don, ending a century of Hasidic life based in Lyubavichi. Rashab passed away five years later, in 1920, and Rayatz took over Lubavitch Hasidism.

With the rise of Communism, Rayatz was hounded by Yevsektsiya – the Jewish section of the Soviet Communist Party. In its efforts to bring the revolution to the Jewish masses, Yevsektsiya strove to obliterate traditional Judaism (as well as modern Zionism). Rayatz actively opposed Communism and worked tirelessly to preserve Jewish life.

In 1924, driven from Rostov, Rayatz moved to Leningrad (today’s St. Petersburg). In 1927, he was arrested for counterrevolutionary activities. Initially sentenced to death, Rayatz was exiled to Kostroma instead. Thanks to political pressure, he was soon allowed to leave Russia. Crossing the border into Latvia, he settled in Riga..

After a year or so in Riga, Rayatz traveled to Palestine, where he was welcomed by the Chief Rabbinate and various rabbinic personalities. The Lubavitch leader visited holy sites in Jerusalem, the Galilee, and Hebron. In a Yiddish letter written later that year to his daughter Sheina (murdered in Treblinka in 1942), he movingly described his experience at the Western Wall:

For those few hours – I was alive! I forgot everything else. I was a cubit higher. I tasted moments of life! After that – everything else is mundane. Other moments will be seen, but not like those. (Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, Iggerot Kodesh, vol. 2, p. 206)

Rayatz spent two weeks in the Holy Land. The day after he boarded a train for Egypt, the Arab riots of 1929 broke out in Palestine.

 

The American Chapter

Upon reaching Europe, rather than returning home to Riga, Rayatz set out for the United States. When he landed on the shores of America, the Jewish press hailed his arrival:

Orthodox, Conservative and Reform Jewish leaders have joined in a committee to honor Rabbi Joseph Isaac Schneursohn, Chassidic leader of Riga, Latvia, formerly of Soviet Russia, known as the Lubavitscher Rebbe, who is now on a visit to this country. (“To Honor Famous Chassidic Rabbi Tonight,” Jewish Daily Bulletin, October 28, 1929, p. 3)

This American sojourn lasted nearly a year. Despite suggestions that he stay in the U.S., Rayatz declined. He disdained the watered-down Judaism of “the land of the free,” where even rabbis shaved their beards! Nevertheless the press reported:

His admirers in this country have asked him to remain here, and according to reports this week, it is possible that the Rebbe may soon return to this country to make his home here. (“Lubawitscher Rebbe Sails for Home as Thousands See Him Off,” Jewish Daily Bulletin, July 18, 1930, p. 4)

In July 1930, Rayatz set sail for Riga. Latvia was no Hasidic stronghold, however, so in 1934 he relocated to Warsaw – home to many Hasidic communities, including a Lubavitch yeshiva founded in 1921. Two years later, Rayatz moved to Otwock, some twenty kilometers outside the Polish capital.

Following the outbreak of the Second World War, the U.S. government and American Jewish leaders – assisted on the ground by German soldiers of Jewish descent – secured passage for Rayatz from occupied Poland, via Berlin, to Riga and on to New York.

Stepping off the boat on March 19, 1940, Rayatz famously declared, “America is nit andersh” (America is no different), then set about resurrecting his Hasidic court on foreign soil. During his final decade – despite deteriorating health – Rayatz led Lubavitch Hasidism from his home at 770 Eastern Parkway, in Brooklyn’s Crown Heights district.

Rabbi Yosef Yitzhak’s constant movement during the interwar years may have hampered his ability to establish a large following and certainly precluded the creation of a Hasidic center. By the time he was greeted at the wharf in New York Harbor as the Hasidic master of Lubavitch, he hadn’t lived in that town for twenty-five years: “Lubavitch” was more of a nostalgic reminder of a sacred past than a location ; more of an affiliation than a pilgrimage site. This transcendence of place may have contributed to what would become a virtual Chabad community spread far and wide, with members linked by the Lubavitch “brand” fashioned in Crown Heights.

Rayatz had seen his father send disciples to distant Jewish communities within the Russian Empire – to the Mountain Jews in the eastern and northern Caucasus and to Jewish enclaves in Georgia. Building on this model, he expanded the reach of Lubavitch even farther afield.

In the 1940s, Rayatz dispatched six Russian Lubavitchers to fortify Chabad in Melbourne, Australia. And in late 1948, just two weeks after their wedding, Rayatz posted young Rabbi Zalman Posner (1927–2014) and his wife, Risya, to Nashville, Tennessee.