בְּדִיקַת חָמֵץ אַחַר תְּפִלַּת עַרְבִית.
בְּבֵית רַבֵּנוּ נוֹהֲגִים שֶׁלֹּא לַעֲשׂוֹת אֶת הָרַב לְמוּרְשֶׁה, אֶלָּא לִמְכּוֹר לוֹ אֶת הֶחָמֵץ וּבְעָרֵב קַבְּלָן.
בַּאֲפִיַּת הַשְּׁמוּרָה עֶרֶב פֶּסַח אַחַר חֲצוֹת, הָיָה אַאַמוּ"ר נוֹכֵחַ, וְאוֹמֵר גַּם כֵּן הַלֵּל, וְהָיָה מַפְסִיק — גַּם בְּאֶמְצַע פֶּרֶק — לְהוֹרוֹת בְּהַנּוֹגֵעַ לְהַלִּישָׁה, אֲפִיָּה וּכְהַאי גַּוְנָא.
In the household of the Rebbe, it was customary not to appoint the rav as an agent to sell the chametz, but rather to sell him the chametz, [confirming the transaction even in such a case by] a fully-responsible guarantor.3
My revered father, the Rebbe [Rashab], used to be present when the shemurah-matzah4 was baked after midday on the eve of Pesach. He would join in the Hallel [that is customarily recited at that time],5 but would interrupt his recitation — even in the midst of a chapter — to give directions regarding the kneading, the baking, and the like.
A Faithful Shepherd
While the Rebbe was not present when matzos were being baked on the day preceding Pesach, he spent a goodly part of the day distributing matzos to the entire chassidic community. Yet, as the following story illustrates, he gave each chassid the same care and attention that is always focused on the baking of the matzos themselves.
Yosef Yitzchak was a young boy whose father served as a rabbi in a New Jersey suburb.His father’s communal responsibilities never allowed him to make the journey to the Rebbe on the eve of Pesach, so when Yosef Yitzchak turned bar-mitzvah, he was charged with the mission of bringing a piece of matzah from the Rebbe for the entire family.
Yosef Yitzchak felt very proud about being entrusted with this responsibility. When he approached the Rebbe and received a piece of matzah, he asked, almost unthinkingly: “Can I have another one especially for my father?”
The Rebbe gave him one immediately. Seeing the Rebbe’s willingness, Yosef Yitzchak asked again: “Can I have one for my mother?” And when the Rebbe gave him another piece, he asked again: “And for my zeide…, for my bobbe..., for my brother..., and for my sister?” With a gentle smile, the Rebbe gave him a piece of matzah for each one.
Yosef Yitzchak made the trip home in high spirits. The Rebbe had given him enough matzah for his entire family!
His happiness was cut short when he presented the matzos to his father. Instead of responding with joy, his father gave him a short, stern lesson on how precious the Rebbe’s time was, and how chassidim did whatever they could to prevent that time from being wasted. “What matters isn’t how many pieces of the Rebbe’s matzah you have,” his father told him. “Even the tiniest piece is enough. We could have all broken off pieces from the one matzah you received for yourself. Yet what did you do? You asked for a piece for me, for your mother, for your zeide, etc. etc.!”
The lad understood, and now regretted what he had done.
A year later, he again went to receive matzah from the Rebbe for his family. He had taken his father’s reprimand to heart, and resolved to say absolutely nothing when receiving his piece. He approached the Rebbe, received his matzah, and began to move away. The Rebbe called him back with a warm smile and asked: “What about your father? Your mother? Your zeide?” And the Rebbe handed him another big matzah.
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