No wonder Rabbi Dov Ber Chein was considered a dangerous criminal in Communist Russia. Reb Berkeh’s lively gait belied his advanced years; his well-worn leather satchel swung rhythmically from the cane slung over his shoulder, and most important, his sparkling eyes exuded his deep faith and chassidic soul, inspiring the generations of youngsters whom he educated.

This unique determination, matched with his skill in educating children, had classified Reb Berkeh as a prime target for the KGB. He had avoided arrest for many years, but only because of Divine Providence, ingenuity, and adeptness.

He was eventually captured by his pursuers as he attempted to slip through the Iron Curtain. After being tried and sentenced to death for counter-revolutionary activities, his death penalty was commuted to imprisonment in a desolate area.

Even after his release, one could hardly consider Reb Berkeh’s lifestyle as that of a free man. He was constantly followed and spied upon by secret agents, who were only too eager to apprehend him for a ‘crime’ of teaching children the Torah or of arranging for the observance of Jewish law.

Hoping to distract the KGB, Reb Berkeh moved to a distant town, but its ever-present arm shadowed him even there. He went into hiding, never showing his face in daylight. Even his wife and daughter did not dare visit him by day.

Some time earlier, during his prison term, Reb Berkeh’s father-in-law and two sons had managed to leave Russia for Israel. Now his father-in-law wrote, imploring them to request an exit visa for his wife and daughter. “At least they will be spared,” wrote the desperate grandfather.

Reb Berkeh’s wife would not hear of it. “I will not leave my husband,” she wrote her father. Knowing that he could not expect to get a visa for any place other than Siberia, Reb Berkeh’s father-in-law kept begging his daughter to try and save herself and the little girl.

Finally, after an extended exchange of coded letters, it was agreed that Reb Berkeh’s son, who had been sent to study at “770”, would ask the Rebbe if Mrs. Chein should apply for an exit visa. The Rebbe’s surprising answer was that Reb Berkeh himself should make the application for the entire family, including himself. He concluded with a blessing: “May G‑d help you.”

Surprised, but trusting the Rebbe, his son continued asking, “Should my father present his true papers or try to obtain false ones?” The Rebbe responded with a broad smile and casual wave of the hand: “They won’t realize that it’s Reb Berkeh.”

Reb Berkeh received word of the Rebbe’s reply, and braced himself for the lengthy and nerve-racking visa application, which precisely detailed the applicant’s life. Truthful responses to “Were you ever arrested?”, “Imprisoned?”, “For which crime?”, would surely betray his identity.

To magnify the danger of his identity being discovered, he was required to submit thirty photographs together with the application. These were to be circulated among various different government offices together with the application, to check if any false information had been submitted.

The warning at the top of the application stared boldly at Reb Berkeh: For every false answer three years’ imprisonment. “That makes over eighty years,” thought Reb Berkeh grimly, as the only truthful information which he proffered was the names of his family members and their present address.

The next fearful year and a half ended with a brief notice that the application was accepted. Reb Berkeh approached the visa office with trepidation. Was this a trap? True, he had filled out the application, but Mrs. Chein had delivered it and dealt with the bureaucracy. Had they used the exit visa and passport to lure him into the open? Despite these worries, the Rebbe’s promise gave him confidence: “They will not realize….”

And they didn’t. They handed Reb Berkeh and his family their visas and passports with bureaucratic indifference. Four hours later, the Chein family, visas in hand, was already on a plane headed for Moscow.

From Moscow, they boarded a flight to Vienna. This time the clerk was less indifferent. “Your papers are false!” he shouted. Ignoring Reb Berkeh’s protests, he checked with the manager, hurling a violent curse upon ‘those wretched Jews’. Soon, however, he returned with the papers. “You’re lucky this time, you miserable Jews,” he sneered. “The government seal is authentic.”

Reb Berkeh heaved a sigh of relief and the family rushed out to the runway where the plane was preparing for takeoff. The Rebbe’s blessing still resounded in his ears, “They will not realize that it’s him.”