From his keynote address at the 59th Annual Convention of the Lubavitch Women's Organization
Just as previously the Rebbe spoke to each person in his or her own "language," today is no different. The bond and connection with the Rebbe continues, each person in his or her own way. I will share with you two of my own, personal stories of the Rebbe.
This encounter happened many years ago, but it still inspires me until today. It took place when I was 16 years old. At the time, I studied in the Lubavitcher yeshiva in Morristown, New Jersey, where my grandfather (of blessed memory) Rabbi Meir Greenberg was the dean of the yeshiva.
My grandfather was a real "zaidy"; if I was ever not feeling well and I mentioned it to him, he would immediately take me to his house to rest up or to see a doctor if necessary. One day I mentioned to him that I had an in-grown toenail that had become infected. As soon as he heard the word "infected" he whisked me into his car and we drove to Patterson, New Jersey, to have an appointment with a podiatrist he had just met a few weeks earlier.
The podiatrist, who had absolutely no "bedside" manner - perhaps due to the fact that he was young - used the word "amputate" to describe cutting away part of the nail. In the 20 minutes that I was in his office, I think he used the word "amputate" 30 times.
I was so traumatized by the thought of the impending "amputation" that I told my zaidy I would not go ahead with the procedure without calling the Rebbe and receiving a bracha (blessing). I stood my ground and insisted there would be no "amputation" of my toenail without receiving the Rebbe's blessing.
Eventually, my grandfather saw that there was no way out and he called the Rebbe's office. He reached one of the Rebbe's secretaries, and with much hesitation and embarrassment, asked the secretary to give a note to the Rebbe requesting a blessing for his grandson to go ahead with the procedure on his in-grown toenail. There was silence on the other end. "Are you serious?" the secretary asked. My grandfather looked at me and then assured the secretary that he was very serious.
After he hung up the phone, my grandfather assured me that since we had contacted the Rebbe's office, certainly the blessing was given. He explained that I should not expect an answer due to the Rebbe's busy schedule and the seriousness of the other letters and requests the Rebbe receives. (The Rebbe received hundreds of letters in the mail each day, and possibly as many requests over the phone as well.)
Twenty minutes later, the phone rang. It was the Rebbe's secretary calling. "Rabbi Greenberg, I must tell you the truth, when you told me that you were calling for a blessing for your grandson's in-grown toenail, I had a hard time with this and did not want to bother the Rebbe with what seemed to me to be such a trivial matter. However, I wrote what you asked me to write and put the note deep inside the pile of envelopes that I was bringing in to the Rebbe. When I put the pile down on the Rebbe's desk, the Rebbe pushed aside the envelopes until he found the note with your request. The Rebbe read it and then told me, "Call him immediately and let him know that everything is going to be ok." And so it was.
The Rebbe had many other things to do that day, I'm a sure. The in-grown toenail of a 16 year old boy was not the most pressing. But the Rebbe took a few moments from his overflowing schedule to make sure that I felt ok!
Our youngest child has a chronic illness (caused by a Jewish genetic disease). The first year of his life was the most difficult. One Friday night, he was so ill that we had to go by ambulance to the hospital where all-night emergency surgery took place. Things were touch and go. A few days after the surgery and he still had not yet regained consciousness.
My wife and I were trading off shifts at the hospital. I stayed all night and my wife stayed all day. On this particular morning, when my wife came to relieve me, I was "on the edge"; the doctor had just given us not such good news. No one should ever know from a child who is not well.
As I walked downstairs to get my car and go home, I had my own very private conversation with the Rebbe. "Rebbe I need a sign that you are here with me, a clear sign that doesn't require the guidance of a big scholar to decipher it. I can't take anymore. I need to know that you are with us."
