REBBE KALONYMUS KALMAN SHAPIRA OF PIASECZNA: HOLY FIRE

Rebbe Kalonymus Kalman Shapira, the Rebbe of Piaseczna, was born on the 14th of Tammuz, 5649 (1889), to Rabbi Elimelech Shapira and the Rebbetzin Chanah Brachah, descendants of the Maggid of Kozhnitz and Rebbe Elimelech of Lizhensk. Orphaned from his father in childhood, he was raised in the home of his grandfather, the Rebbe of Grodzisk. At the age of sixteen he married Rachel Chayah Miriam, daughter of Rabbi Yerucham Moshe Hopstein of Kozhnitz, from whom he received the foundations of Chasidic teachings. After his father-in-law's passing, he was crowned Rebbe of Piaseczna, and in time became the rabbi of the town as well. In his books, he forged an educational path that wove together Chasidic enthusiasm with personal responsibility, love, and attentiveness to the soul. In his court as well, he emphasized the service of the heart, the cultivation of spiritual character, and a living connection to prayer and to life. During the Holocaust, he was deported to the Warsaw Ghetto where he continued to teach Torah and strengthen his chasidim. Amid conditions of starvation and terror, he committed his discourses to writing. The discourses were published after the war in the book Eish Kodesh (Holy Fire). He ascended to Heaven in a storm on the 4th of Cheshvan, 5704 (1943), at the Trawniki concentration camp.

Reb Yisrael Kahn, one of the Rebbe's chasidim, related the following:

It was the festival of Shavu’ot in the Warsaw Ghetto. Broken and shattered Jews were hiding in cellars and beneath the ruins of buildings, when word suddenly spread of a certain cellar where the Rebbe was holding his tish, a gathering in honor of the festival. The Jews gathered. After several melodies the Rebbe spoke with deep devotion about the giving of the Torah, which is renewed each year—and this year as well—as though the world outside was not collapsing; the Rebbe was occupied with preparations for the revelation of new Torah.

Toward morning, the Rebbe began to speak about the immersion in the mikveh on Shavu’ot, the immersion that prepares us to receive the new Torah. To the astonishment of the chasidim, the Rebbe turned toward the exit from the cellar with the clear intention of reaching the mikveh and immersing. The mikveh was locked and at no small distance, and walking in the street was a mortal danger: the Nazis did not permit Jews to walk together by day, and at night movement was forbidden altogether. The chasidim pleaded with the Rebbe not to go, but the Rebbe was resolute. There was no standing in his way, and the Rebbe, ablaze with holy fire, went out without fear. The chasidim, who witnessed his great trust and burning faith, went with him.

Swiftly and in silence they reached the mikveh. The Rebbe opened the door, entered quickly, immersed, and emerged. One more chasid managed to plunge into the water when suddenly the sound of an approaching motorcycle was heard. It was clear that death was drawing near, and that within seconds they might be receiving the Torah in Heaven. The Rebbe managed to step out and lock the door. A German officer dismounted from the motorcycle and raised his weapon with shouts. Everyone pressed close to the Rebbe. The officer understood who was leading the group and ran with his weapon toward the Rebbe but the further he advanced, the more his confidence failed him. In the end he lowered his weapon and merely shouted: "What are Jews doing here in the middle of the night?" The group dispersed quickly.

The Germans put the Jews to forced labor in factories, working them until their strength was exhausted and then transferring them to be murdered. The Rebbe was taken to work in a shoe factory in the service of the German army. His light penetrated even into the hearts of the non-Jews, and the non-Jewish factory manager perceived that he was "a good Jew" and resolved to protect him and his group. When the Nazis came to take a group to be killed, the manager said it was a pity to take them since they worked well, and for several months the group continued to work and to serve God in the Rebbe's company.

One day the manager was absent, and the Germans came and took the Rebbe's group to a death camp near Lublin. The following day the manager arrived to check on his "good Jew" and discovered that the Rebbe and his group had been taken. He resolved to take a risk and try to bring the Rebbe back to the factory, and using transit documents of a worker in the service of the Reich, he made his way to the camp. There he saw a group of Jews who were already on their way to be murdered. He recognized them as "his" group and asked them: "Where is the good Jew?" The chasidim were stunned to see that the Rebbe was not among them. "He was here just a moment ago," they said with wonder. As they stood bewildered, the order came, and the group walked toward death, the Rebbe absent from their midst.

When Reb Yisrael finished the story, he said: "Let each person think what he wishes." One of the listeners could not restrain himself and asked: "And what do you think happened?" Reb Yisrael was silent — and then tears burst from his eyes. In a trembling voice he said: "Whoever knew the Rebbe knows that the wicked could not touch his holy body. He surely ascended to Heaven in a storm."

What is the meaning of the tzaddik's singular devotion to the immersion in the mikveh on the night of Shavu’ot, and is there a connection between it and the wondrous manner of his passing from this world?

In the Midrashim and in Chasidut, the seven weeks of the Omer count are compared to a woman's counting of seven clean days before her immersion and return to her husband. The special immersion of the festival is the purification of the bride—the people of Israel—in preparation for the wedding day with the Holy blessed One.

But in truth, there are not only seven here, but also three—three months (even if not complete ones). The Omer is counted beginning in Nissan, the first month, when we left Egypt, through Iyar, and ends in the month of Sivan, the third month, when the Torah was given. One of the Midrashim explains this through a striking parallel to a halachic principle concerning marriage:

There are very specific circumstances in which Jewish law requires a woman to wait three months before she may marry, to ensure that any children born to her are indeed her new husband’s, conceived in holy matrimony, "according to the laws of Moshe and Israel." This is known as the period of distinction (הַבְחָנָה). Three months are required for a pregnancy to be clearly seen, and after three months of waiting, it can be known with certainty that no prior pregnancy preceded the marriage. Every woman who was previously married (a widow, a divorcee) needs to wait these three months before getting married again.

But there are three cases when even if a woman was not previously married, she needs to uphold the period of distinction. These are a woman who has converted to Judaism must wait three months to ensure that any child born after the conversion was conceived after the conversion; a woman who was held captive, having been entirely at the mercy of her captors, is subject to concern that she may have been violated, and must therefore wait three months from the day of her release; and a freed maidservant, who during her servitude was of such diminished personal standing that she may have surrendered herself, must likewise wait.

Even though the Jewish people were never “married” to another deity and had never taken upon themselves a different “Torah,” and so they cannot be compared to a woman who was previously married, the Midrash teaches that the people of Israel who left Egypt were subject to all three special situations. They were like a convert who has come to convert, like a captive who was released, and like a freed maidservant. The Jewish people were set apart from the nations and became a distinct people through a process of conversion. They emerged from captivity in Egypt, where they had been under the dominion of foreign masters. And they were freed from a house of bondage at the Exodus. Therefore, they too had to wait three months after leaving Egypt to enter the great wedding with the Almighty at the Giving of the Torah on Mt. Sinai.

A NEW WEDDING

This analogy, of course, requires an inner, spiritual explanation because the Giving of the Torah was not a physical marriage that required that the paternity of the children be established. God—the supernal Groom—knows precisely the condition of His bride—the Jewish people. It is clear, then, that the months of waiting describe an inner transformation that we, the bride, undergo in the period between the Exodus from Egypt in Nissan to the Giving of the Torah in Sivan. In fact, we experience this transformation and relive it individually and communally every year.

From this perspective, the preparation for receiving the Torah is in essence the person's certainty that he has been cleansed of all the foreign and negative influences to which he was previously exposed. This cleansing is the threefold process of conversion-release-liberation, which manifests in the following way. Severing oneself from the foreign culture in which one had lived through desire and natural belonging constitutes a conversion. Freeing oneself from the impulses, desires, and addictions in whose grip one feels like a captive represents the release from captivity. Ceasing to be swept along by every fashionable trend or passing wind is liberation from a servile mentality in which a person is abandoned to every passing fad for lack of self-respect. Only at the completion of these three months does one arrive at the certainty that the process of conversion-release-liberation has truly succeeded, and that new spiritual fruits may be born from the new wedding.

The author of the Eish Kodesh devoted his entire life to redeeming Jews from the foreign culture that had spread before the war and from the despair that had seeped into their hearts during it. He himself was entirely free from every possible foreign influence even upon his holy body. And so, when the wicked came to kill him, he had already united himself with his Creator, to whom he had always yearned as a bride to her groom.