It smells of old books in the third-floor hall of the Central Chabad-Lubavitch Library in Brooklyn, N.Y., where an exhibit of rare manuscripts, portraits and artifacts from the life of Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Lubavitch (5549/1789-5626/1866) opened in mid-September. Laid out in the wood and glass display cases are handwritten volumes and letters of the third Rebbe of Chabad, known as the Tzemach Tzedek for the name of his multi-volume set of halachic responsa.
Each item, book, letter and painting has a story.
Take the collection of portraits of the Tzemach Tzedek on display near the hall’s entrance. The oldest documented among them is an 1886 lithograph by a certain N. Metz, with authorization from the Czarist Russia’s censor stamped near the bottom. Depictions of the Tzemach Tzedek underwent slight changes as various woodcut reproductions were made over the years, with the the library showing examples from a book printed in Warsaw (1887-88); a Hebrew calendar made in Riga, Latvia (1928-29); and an undated one from Lodz, Poland.
According to Rabbi Sholom Ber Levine, chief librarian at the Library of Agudas Chassidei Chabad-Ohel Yosef Yitzchak Lubavitch, the image was made by a non-Jewish artist who visited the village of Lubavitch, Russia, and witnessed the Tzemach Tzedek teaching a Chassidic discourse on a Shabbat afternoon. Memorizing the scene, the artist ran back to his lodgings, where he executed his painting.
On the back of a small black-and-white print is the handwritten note of the Sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe—Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, of righteous memory: “I received this picture from my honored grandmother Rivkah, of righteous memory, who told me this picture is more accurate than the others.”
Hanging above the rest is what very well might be the original painting made of the Tzemach Tzedek, discovered by Levine in the home of one of the Tzemach Tzedek’s descendants in Moscow in 1991, shortly before the fall of the Soviet Union.
“I don’t know whether this is the original or a copy made from the original, but I do know this was hanging in the home of Rav Shlomo Zalman, the grandson of the Tzemach Tzedek, who became the Kopuster Rebbe,” he says. “The owner was the great-great-grandchild of the Kopuster Rebbe. I met the owner’s son through a mutual acquaintance, and when I heard of this painting I asked to see it.”
In the old man’s Moscow apartment, Levine found himself face to face with a portrait of the third Rebbe that had been passed down within the family for generations, unseen by anyone outside it. Tasked with growing and organizing the vast Chabad library—home to 250,000 mostly rare books; 50,000 letters, artifacts and pictures; and 8,000 manuscripts—Levine did what he had grown accustomed to doing: He asked the old man to gift it to the library.
‘A Prolific Author’
The exhibition marks 150 years since the Tzemach Tzedek’s passing and traces the arch of his life from his mid-teens to his last days. Following the tragic death of his mother when he was 3, the Tzemach Tzedek was raised in the home of his maternal grandfather Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, the founder of Chabad, and became the son-in-law and successor of Chabad’s second Rebbe, Rabbi DovBer of Lubavitch (the “Mitteler Rebbe”). Known widely throughout the Jewish world for his broad knowledge of all areas of Torah, his 35 years of leadership saw the dissolution of opposition to the Chassidic movement.
Even as a child, the Tzemach Tzedek would record his Torah thoughts, reportedly writing a full page of 30 lines in five minutes by the time he was 10. The earliest example on display at the exhibit is Manuscript #1116, a Chassidic discourse taught by Rabbi Schneur Zalman in 1806 and transcribed at the time by the Tzemach Tzedek when he was 16 years old.
“The whole philosophy of Chabad chassidus is spoken by the Rebbes every Shabbos at the farbrengen,” explains Levine, sitting in his office adjacent to the exhibition hall. “Some of it was written by the Rebbes themselves, but much of it was taught orally on Shabbos, and then written down by his sons and chozerim [trained memorizers].”
Of five display cases in the center of the hall, the first highlights the Tzemach Tzedek’s transcripts of his grandfather’s discourses; the middle three focus mostly on his own writings during the years of his leadership; and the last one depicts his son’s and followers’ recordings of his own teachings, recorded by them when he was at an advanced age.
The Tzemach Tzedek—who aside from Chassidic teachings wrote on all topics of the Talmud, Prophets, Megillah and Jewish law—was a prolific author, and the collection has nearly 100 volumes of his writings, representing only a fraction of his actual output. Much of his writings perished in the numerous fires that regularly decimated the wooden buildings in the village of Lubavitch over the years.
One volume on display (Manuscript #1098) is dated 1858-59, and sees the flowing Hebrew cursive of the Tzemach Tzedek’s handwriting framed by burnt edges.
“Wood burns faster than paper,” says Levine. “Often, they were able to salvage books and manuscripts, such as this one.”
So devastating were the effects of these fires that a communal fund called the Malbish Arumim Society was established in 1860 to help care for victims of the frequent conflagrations. Its ledger is also on display and according to the exhibition guide: “The volume records elections of trustees, acceptance of members, contributions by donors, and income and expenditure during the years 5620-5674 (1859-1914). This period started after the great fire that destroyed much of the town of Lubavitch in the years 1856-1858, and continued until August 1914, the beginning of World War I.”
The ledger lays open to words of encouragement penned in 1860 by the Tzemach Tzedek himself, concluding with his signature. Among those listed inside are his sons and grandsons, along with their annual donation commitments and signatures.
Collection a Living History
The beginnings of Chabad’s historic library can be traced to Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, growing with each consecutive Rebbe. The narrative of Jewish life in Eastern Europe reverberates in its tumultuous history over the last hundreds of years: It has weathered shtetl fires, Czarist investigations, Soviet nationalization, Nazi onslaught and the struggle for post-war repatriation.
When Rabbi Sholom DovBer of Lubavitch, the fifth Rebbe, fled his home in Lubavitch in 1914 during the onset of World War I, he sent a large part of his library to a storage facility in Moscow, which was consequently nationalized by the Bolshevik regime and remains in Russian hands today.
With the bulk of the collection confiscated by the Communist government, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak went about passionately rebuilding it, managing to take it with him when he was exiled from Russia in 1927. The library moved with him through his subsequent travels, from Riga to Warsaw and then finally to Otwock, Poland. Following the Nazi invasion of Poland in September of 1939, a large part of it—mostly precious handwritten manuscripts—was deposited for safekeeping at the American Embassy in Warsaw, to be retrieved at a later date.
“The Previous Rebbe took with him only the most essential manuscripts—what he could not be without,” says Levine. When Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak arrived in the United States from war-ravaged Europe on March 19, 1940, he brought with him only two suitcases of writings.
The United States entered World War II in December of 1941, severing diplomatic relations with Nazi Germany, and thus trapping the holy Chabad books and manuscripts in storage at the American embassy. The Germans sent a part of the Chabad library to Berlin for inclusion in their planned museum of the extinct Jewish race. At the war’s end, the writings were confiscated from Germany and hauled as booty to Moscow by the Soviet Red Army; this section of the library can be found at the Russian Military Archives.
The majority of the collection, however, remained in Poland, and after the war ended up at the Jewish Historical Institute in Warsaw.
The Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory—was eager to see all of the books returned, and once their survival was discovered gave careful guidance as to how his followers should go about it. Through a series of events that included clandestine trips, fiscal incentives and high-level diplomacy, Poland finally returned the Chabad library.
“It took 37 years until the Polish government gave it back, at the end of 1977. Most of this exhibit,” says Levine, waving his hand towards the hall, “comes from the collection that we got back then. But many of the books still remain in exile in Russia.”
Visitors come steadily to view the exhibition at the library, which is adjacent to Lubavitch World Headquarters at 770 Eastern Parkway in the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn.
On a recent morning, a small group of yeshivah students walked slowly among the displays, pausing to carefully read the description cards. In addition to the writings, the exhibit shows a 55-centimeter-long sleeve from a garment of the Tzemach Tzedek’s, as well as a shofar that belonged to him, used by the Rebbe for many years on Rosh Hashanah.
“The original establishment of chassidus is in the writings and the sayings of the Rebbes,” states Levine. “This exhibit gives you a feeling of how it was established and formed. When you see something, it is not just distant history anymore—you can relate to it in a different way because you saw it yourself.”
While now, much of what’s on display has been printed and is available for study, Levine says the originals remain vital to Chabad as a movement. “That’s the source,” he insists. “Our Rebbes always wanted to have the source.”
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