A large number of those at his funeral had come as children mourning a very personal loss, many of them ripping their garments in kriyah for the loss of a father who had cared for their every need, both spiritual and material. It is extremely difficult to comprehend how so many thousands could experience such an intense relationship with one man. And yet, how else can one explain the phenomenal growth of the Satmar community from several scores of families in the late 40’s to so many thousands of followers today – especially when the external trappings of the group’s lifestyle is in direct conflict with modern Western culture? To be sure, the explanation for this growth lies in part in the large families generally prevalent in the Torah community. But it also must be attributed to the exceedingly low defection rate among Satmar Chassidim – a phenomenon in which the Rebbe played a pivotal role.
Shortly after he had arrived in America, a young Chassid was discussing the naming of his newly born son with the Satmar Rav, in the presence of another rabbi. “My grandfather was a very good Jew,” he said.
“His name would be a fine choice for your son,” commented the Rebbe.
“But several of my nephews and cousins already carry his name. On the other hand, my father-in-law has no one named after him.”
“That should certainly be taken into consideration.”
“However ...”
And so it continued. After the young father left, the other visitor asked the Rebbe why he permitted himself to become so involved with trivia.
“In the old country, I was a father at home, and could be a Rebbe in the city. But here,” the Rebbe sighed, “this is simply not suitable. I have to be a father to my community, and a Rebbe at home.”
As visitors streamed into his room, the Rebbe asked questions and listened carefully, seemed to bend his shoulder to carry the load of others, and was mispallel (prayed) for their needs.
His manner of closely examining a kvittel, looking for clues – and, amazingly, “discovering” errors in the writing of the name of a total stranger (“You write ‘Binyamin ben Leah’ – isn’t there more to the mother’s name? – You say ‘ben Leah Esther’? You should have written it so!”) – and the encouraging word he invariably offered, comforting the petitioner... Stories are legion about occasions when – after hearing the details of a person’s problems – the Rebbe swept his table clean of the day’s accumulation of pidyon gelt (monies for charity, given to the Rebbe by people petitioning for his help and prayers) to give to a needy visitor . . . Nor did he limit his compassion and sharing of joys and sorrows to his own immediate group:
The Latin American lady not at all dressed in Satmar tradition, who needed money for her son’s hospitalization and left with the full amount... The man who wept bitterly for all his suffering, and walked out with the entire day’s proceeds. Then the Rebbe was informed that the man was a fraud. “Baruch Hashem!” exclaimed the Rebbe, “I’m so relieved that he’s not in such terrible straits!”... The editor of an Israeli journal that had slandered – even ridiculed – the Rebbe, was in his room, sobbing for his daughter’s terrible personal plight – she was engaged to be married but lacked sufficient funds to purchase an apartment. After the Rebbe had given him a large sum of money, someone whispered into his ear, “Don’t you know who that was?” “Of course I do,” replied the Rebbe, and then – after a moment’s hesitation – called back the editor and gave him even more ...
An alumnus of a Lithuanian-type yeshiva in Israel sat near the Rebbe at his Pesach Seder. The Rebbe was amused at his guest’s pompous measuring of the precise portion of food and drinks required for the rituals (even though the Rebbe himself was no less fastidious). As the guest prepared his matzos, the Rebbe asked him, “Are you sure it’s the right shiyur (required amount)?” Similarly, after he ate the marror, and later when he eyed his afikomen before consuming it, the Rebbe smilingly asked, “Is it the shiyur?”
Finally, the fellow put down his matzah and said, “Rebbe I’m not sure. But isn’t it the shiyur of tcheppen (teasing)?”
The Rebbe was deeply disturbed that he had actually offended the man with remarks that he had only meant as a friendly exchange. He begged his forgiveness again and again, as was his habit when he felt he had mistreated someone. Finally he asked him, “Please see me right after Yom Tov.”
When the man reported to the Rebbe, he asked, “Why are you here? Why did you come to America?”
“I’m here because I must raise five to six thousand dollars to marry off my daughter.”
“I’ll get the money for you. And please – any children that you will be marrying off in the future – come here and I’ll take care of your financial needs.”
The Satmar Rav was not satisfied until he had financed the weddings of the man’s four daughters.
