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Stories Told by the Sixth Rebbe

Stories Told by the Sixth Rebbe

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Two lost souls, a wealthy businessman and his coachman, arrived in a city one Friday afternoon...
"Sixty-two years have now passed," related Reb Pesach, "since I was privileged to hear from the Rebbe, your grandfather, that Shema is Yisrael..."
With a final leap and twist, Reb Shmuel Munkes dumped the roasted lung into the spittoon, and broke out in a merry kazatzka dance.
They opened a skylight in the study hall and dropped a snare; when someone walked into the study hall, they would yank on the rope so that the snare fastened itself around him, and pull him up to the roof...
That's the profit from the sale of a calf in the marketplace of the White Russian town of Lubavitch
The Rebbe sat in a state of d'veikut for a long while. Then lifted his head and said with great feeling: "You speak of all that you need. But you say nothing of what you are are needed for"
"In Vilna one was taught how to study," recalled the Rebbe. "In Mezeritch one could learn how to pray..."
"At home?" said Rabbi DovBer. "Oh yes... At home, it is a different matter altogether..."
When the man saw me he asked: "What is a small child doing all alone in the forest? Are you not afraid to be in the forest all by yourself?"
Angels don’t say l’chaim on Simchat Torah, so they arose to sing G-d’s praises in the heavens at the usual time. They found heaven littered with strange objects: torn slippers, broken heels. "Yes," admitted the angel Michoel, "this is my merchandise"
“Grind, mix, pour, squander the entire gemstone,” commanded the king. “Who knows? Perhaps a single drop will enter the mouth of my son, and he will be healed!”
“When I was a young man of twenty,” the Baal Shem Tov began his story, “shortly after being accepted in the society of hidden tzaddikim, several of us came to the city of Brody . . .”
The boy knew the sounds made by all the different farm animals, and he especially esteemed the rooster’s crowing. When he heard the weeping and the outcries, his heart was also shattered and he cried out loudly, “Cock-a-doodle-do! G‑d, have mercy!”
“I knew,” the Rebbe said, “that there must be something in me that could relate to his situation . . .”
"You are a spy for Russia!" thundered Napoleon, and placed his hand upon my chest to feel the pounding heart of a man exposed
As they walked, they came across a group of children playing in the sand. The Baal Shem Tov went over to them and said to the nearest one, “What is your name?”
They would gather around the hot drink and warm their bones with pannes and chassidic philosophy.
“The flame is not yours,” said the Rebbe, “you are just its carrier. The lamp is ready to be lit—you need only touch it with the flame.” “Should I grab him by the throat?” asked the chassid. “By the throat, no,” replied the rebbe. “By the lapels, yes.”
In the face of Tsarist anti-semitism, communism, and the Holocaust, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak resolutely perpetuated traditional Jewish life and the potent spirit of Chassidism.