During the 1940s the Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, of righteous memory, periodically sent emissaries to visit Jewish communities across America, with the goal of sharing the joy and warmth of Judaism with everyone they encountered.
One particular mission was given to Rabbi Shmuel Levitin, an illustrious rabbinic figure, who had previously served the Lithuanian city of Rakshik. He was to travel from New York to Chicago (where I lived at the time), to spend a few days with the Jewish community, inspiring them as only he could.
During his visit, in the midst of lectures and farbrengens, Rabbi Shmuel asked Rabbi Perlstein, the rabbi of the Tzemach Tzedek synagogue, to arrange an appointment with Mr. Charles (Yechezkel) Lissner, a prominent businessman and member of his congregation, whom the rebbe had specifically instructed him to visit. He explained that Mr. Lissner’s ancestor, Arke of Liozna, had been a devoted chassid of the first Chabad Rebbe, but when Mr. Lissner arrived in America as a young boy, he had become somewhat “Americanized.” The rebbe, therefore, wished for Rabbi Shmuel to visit him, with the hope that the rabbi’s regal visage and chassidic inspiration would give him a much-needed spiritual awakening.
Though it was not an easy appointment to arrange, a meeting in Mr. Lissner’s home office was secured. Rabbi Shmuel made his way there, along with Rabbi Perlstein and several other local rabbis. I too was among the delegation.
Mr. Lissner welcomed us with sincere warmth, and during the course of the intimate and animated conversation that followed, Rabbi Shmuel reminisced about his personal acquaintanceship with Mr. Lissner’s grandfather. Mr. Lissner too spoke nostalgically about his parents’ and grandparents’ homes, where chassidic customs and practices had been part of daily life, and where Shabbat and holidays were truly joyous occasions.
As the meeting drew to a close, Rabbi Shmuel rose to leave, at which point Mr. Lissner brought out his checkbook and asked to whom he should make his check payable.
“My dear friend,” the emissary told him, “I did not come to solicit a financial contribution, and I trust you will not be offended if I decline to accept any money from you!”
This puzzled Mr. Lissner. “Surely the venerable emissary of the Lubavitcher Rebbe did not come all the way from New York to pay me a social visit, or just to have a cold drink in my house!” he exclaimed.
“Let me explain it to you,” interjected Rabbi Perlstein. “You are surely aware that a Torah is written following very detailed rules, by a sofer [scribe], with a quill and a specific type of black ink on a particular type of parchment. It sometimes happens, especially when the Torah scroll is not used for a long period of time, that a letter fades, and the Torah is no longer kosher. In days of old, the community would employ a Torah-checker, whose function was to regularly check the Torahs. If he found a missing or faded letter, he would fill it in with his quill and ink, making the Torah kosher again.
The rabbi continued, “The Rebbe has taught us that every Jew is a Torah, replete with letters and words, which the Jew writes and spells out in his daily conduct—through keeping Shabbat, kashrut, Jewish family life, and bringing up children with a lifestyle of Torah and mitzvot. Occasionally one of these ‘letters’ fades, so the Rebbe sends us as his ‘examiners’ to freshen up the faded letters and ensure that each one of us is a perfectly kosher Torah scroll.”
As he bade the rabbis farewell, it was clear Mr. Lissner was deeply touched.
When Rabbi Shmuel returned to New York, he gave the Rebbe a thorough report of his trip to Chicago, including the visit to Mr. Lissner.
“It is indeed an interesting explanation,” noted the rebbe, “but strictly speaking, the analogy is not true in all respects. It is true that a Jew is a Torah. However there are two ways to inscribe. There is the method of writing with a quill or pen and ink, and there is the method of engraving. The Ten Commandments were engraved in stone.
“What is the difference between these two methods?
“Writing with a pen or quill involves applying ink to paper or parchment. The ink and the parchment are separate entities, skillfully fused by the writer. Nevertheless, because they are separate entities, it is possible for the ink to fade or be erased. On the other hand, engraving involves forming letters and words within the very stone itself. Nothing is superimposed upon the material; the material and the letters are one and the same. Such letters cannot be erased, nor can they fade. As long as the material exists, the letters are there. Although no actual fading or erasure can occur, there is a possibility of dust and grime gathering and covering up the engraved letters. Should this happen, all that is necessary is to clear away the dust and grime, and the letters will again be revealed in their original vividness.
“A Jew is a Torah scroll, but not a written one,” the rebbe concluded. “Rather, like the Ten Commandments, the script is engraved. You do not have to ‘rewrite’ a Jew; all you have to do is help him brush away the dust and grime of his environmental influences which have temporarily and superficially covered up his true self, dos pintele Yid [the Jewish spark engraved in each soul]. This is why the heart is always awake; always responsive.”
Adapted from an account by Rabbi Yosef Wineberg, which was printed in Di Yiddishe Heim.
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