Passover Stories

“I will perform a miracle akin to those which Moses himself did. Before your very eyes, I will cut off a man’s head with a sword, and then put him back together and make him live!”

“I suggest you approach your captain with an alternative route for the journey,” said the rebbe. “Explain that the route he has planned has many disadvantages . . .”

It was Passover eve of 1910. In the town of Lubavitch, every Jewish home was freshly scrubbed. The tables were bedecked with threadbare but meticulously cleaned white linen, surrounded by families about to begin their Seder celebrations...

The door of the decorated coach opened, and an elegantly dressed gentleman stepped out.

First we drank a glass of wine. Then we ate a bit of parsley. Then they started talking, and talking, and talking. The smell of the food from the kitchen is making me insane, but they don't bring it out!

"I know that you sent word that you could give only three matzahs, but nonetheless my father, the Seret-Vizhnitzer Rebbe, told me to tell you that he must have six matzahs."

"What is it?" he snapped. In the Bronx, it's proper etiquette to snap when greeting someone. I noticed the loaf of rye bread sitting on the table, definitely not a traditional Seder food. I said, "The Rebbe sent me."

Over time, successive economic downturns diminished the couple’s wealth, and they had to resort to selling their possessions to buy food.

Word resounded throughout the supernal worlds: "Because Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov has forced the hand of heaven to overturn the laws of nature, he has forfeited his portion in the World to Come"