The following story, as well as the explanation/interpretation that follows it, was told to me by Rabbi Dovid Markel, who personally heard the story from the baal hamaaseh:
Eliezer was a young child, growing up in Crown Heights in the mem’s (1980’s). Although, generally speaking, he was a regular Lubavitcher kid, there was one thing unique about him. Because his father was a diamond dealer, the family owned a dog – a Rottweiler – for security reasons. The dog was, by necessity, a big and vicious one, and practically towered over the little boy. When they walked together on the streets of Crown Heights, it was the dog that forcefully led the way, while Eliezer was pretty much dragged along at the end of the leash. Needless to say, anyone else out walking at the same time gave the two of them a wide berth.
Once, Eliezer was out walking with the dog, barely restraining the powerful and energetic dog – as usual -, when suddenly the dog stopped in his place, literally slinking down, with his tail between his feet. Before Eliezer had too much opportunity to wonder at the dog’s uncharacteristic behavior, he suddenly saw the Rebbe pass by right in front of him. Amazed, he turned to the Rebbe and asked: “how is it that you’re not afraid of my dog?” The Rebbe smiled to him and replied: “When I was your age, I had an even bigger dog than this.”
Naturally, Eliezer found the Rebbe’s words puzzling, and shared them with his father. His father later shared with him what he had learned from eltere Chassidim, that would shed light on the Rebbe’s words: When the Rebbe was a young child, the streets in Russia were not as safe place for Jewish children (to put it mildly). Therefore, for added security, the Rebbe would take a large dog with him when he went to the beis medrash.
This story is particularly interesting when we contrast it with the story about R’ Shmuel Munkes:
When R’ Shmuel Munkes came to the Alter Rebbe the first time, he arrived on the town of Liozhna in the middle of the night. Not knowing where the Alter Rebbe resided, he searched for a house that was lit up, surmising that surely the home of the Alter Rebbe would be lit up at night. When he knocked on the door, the Alter Rebbe himself opened for him, and asked him what he wanted. “I would like to stay here overnight”, R’ Shmuel replied. “There are other homes to stay in, in this town”, the Alter Rebbe said to him. “So what”, R’ Shmuel retorted, “is this not also a Jewish home?” The Alter Rebbe warned him: “I will call the goy to chase you away”. At that point R’ Shmuel burst into tears, exclaiming: “Rebbe, mein goy iz gresser vi aier goy” [my “goy” is bigger than your “goy”]. It was then that the Alter Rebbe took him in, and R’ Shmuel had his first yechidus.
What is interesting is that in the first story the chosid, R’ Shmuel, maintains that his “goy”, - his guf and nefesh habehamis are greater than that of the Rebbe, whereas in the second encounter, the Rebbe maintains that the “dog” that he dealt with was greater than the one that the chosid had to deal with:
It would seem that most of us are similar to R’ Shmuel Munkes in our way of thinking. We may learn in Torah about our obligations and responsibilities. We may learn in Chassidus about our potential and ability. We study in a sicha about how each of us is capable of changing ourselves and the world. And we think to ourselves: ‘If the Rebbe knew what my goy was like, he wouldn’t be saying these things. Of course, they may hold true for the average person. But me, with my lowly nefesh habehamis, with my grobbeh goy?! Impossible! There’s no way that I could transform myself into a chosid, that I can re-focus my life to the service of Hashem. I’m just too far gone! Rebbe, my goy is bigger than yours! When you talk about “podoh b’sholom”, about redeeming the nefesh ho’elokis from the golus of the nefesh habehamis, you are surely referring to the nefesh habehamis of Chassidim of times bygone, or to the nefesh habehamis of all of the chassidishe Yidden in our times. But my goy?! It’s just too big! None of this can possibly work for it.
When you tell someone that in Tanya is explained how it is korov me’od, very easy and accessible for every person to explain to his yetzer hora why it should love Hashem, and to transform it via the various arguments and ideas elaborated on therein, he says ‘maybe that’s true for the goy that the Alter Rebbe had in mind, but not for my goy, no way, he’s way too far gone!’ And when we learn in sichos about the tremendous virtues of a Jew, and the encouragement that he could and should derive thereof, he says ‘what, me, no way, I have (and I am) a much bigger goy than whatever and whoever the Rebbe must have had in mind!
And the next step is the conclusion that I must feel depressed and forlorn and hopeless. At the very least, I need to seek brand new solutions for my problems, solutions that have never existed heretofore. And, when someone says to me that all of the solutions to my problems are already contained in Tanya and in chassidus, I think him naïve, and unrealistic. Tanya couldn’t possibly have been addressing my goy, because my goy is a much bigger goy than the Alter Rebbe’s goy [and when the Alter Rebbe speaks about sins and temptations, he was surely addressing his Chassidim who were completely removed from any world, and would understand these concepts in some spiritual dimension..]
But the Rebbe says back: ‘Take it easy; don’t get so excited about your ‘dog’. I’m not scared of your ‘dog’. He may appear big and ferocious to you, but I’ve seen and dealt with bigger ones, and dragged them to the beis medrash, so I’m neither impressed nor intimidated by your dog!’
It’s a sobering thought. While I may have concluded that my level of grobkeit is unprecedented, and used that as a reason to become miserable and hopelessly despaired, or, alternatively, to excuse and justify my despicable behavior, the Rebbe says it’s no big deal. Grobkeit such as mine, and even worse, have existed all along, these are precisely what Tanya was made for; - these are exactly what the Rebbeim are here for. We have to recognize that there’s nothing unusual or intimidating about our ‘animal’, and allow the Rebbe to help us drag it to the beis medrash (as the gemoro says: “Im pogah becho menuval zeh, moshche’hu l’beis medrash”).
The Rebbe is neither worried nor concerned about our ‘dog’; therefore, neither should we be. Rather, we should confidently and decisively face it and take control of it!
And, another point: the dog in the story, as wild and fierce as it was, became – instantaneously – as tame as a pussycat in the presence of the Rebbe. This, too, may serve as a very vital lesson about how to deal with our animal. The way to go about taming it is by bringing it into the presence of the Rebbe.
How is that done? Firstly, this is achieved by learning the sichos and maamorim of the Rebbe, in such a manner that the nefesh habehamis can also comprehend them. Especially now, in the month of kislev, the chodesh hage’ulah, everyone of us should make a good accounting, and see if we can’t be spending more time and more focus on learning the Torah of the Rebbe, and learning it properly, in such a way that we are exposing our nefesh habehamis – with its’ intellect and reason – to the Rebbe.
Also, in a literal way, by showing it pictures (including videos etc.) of the Rebbe. Just as Yosef HaTzaddik was saved from the trap of eishes potifar through the image of his father, so too the picture of the Rebbe can help us maintain control over our animalistic instincts.
A bochur (who is today a zeideh many times over...) was once in yechidus. At the end of his yechidus, the Rebbe remarked to him: “Az du zest az dein nefesh habehamis tzu vilde vit zich, nem arois a bild fun Rebbe in un kuk oif dem” [if you notice your NHB getting out of hand, take out a picture of the Rebbe and look at it].
Or, a more contemporary incident:
A few years ago, there was a bochur here in Yeshiva, who had to struggle to get up on time in the morning (yes, there used to be bochurim who had such problems..). Once, he was ‘renovating’ his dorm room, and ended up (unwittingly) hanging up a picture of the Rebbe facing his bed. He subsequent told me that, since then, as soon as he awoke and opened his eyes, he found himself gazing straight into the face of the Rebbe. Staying in bed was no longer an option!
When contemplating recent incidents, another point of the story comes to mind: Every person is an olam katan, a microcosm of the big world. Just as the snapping, barking dog, surely represents the animal contained within each of us, it likewise represents the force of evil, the great big frightening animal on the outside, which is the golus. As we witness the world going awry, the horrific and tragic events that follow on the heels of one another, we can’t help but feel overwhelmed and subdued. It makes us want to hide under the covers, and wait for Moshiach to make his appearance.
[In fact, it brings to mind the remark of one of the Tzaddikim, who stated/foretold: ‘In the last era before Moshiach, the troubles will be so great, that the only way to survive will be by consuming mashkeh, and remaining in a state of intoxication until Moshiach’s arrival’]
However, the Rebbe is very adamant in his direction; - every episode of darkness needs to be met head on with our reaction of increasing in light. While we can’t possibly understand or make any sense of the crazy things that are going on, and shouldn’t even try, we should, nonetheless, feel a total sense of confidence in our ability to battle this darkness; to obliterate it and transform it to light, through our increased involvement (both quantitatively and qualitatively) in all of our positive activities.
To us, the darkness may take on the appearance of a ferocious and untamable beast, and we may be very intimidated by it, and inclined to run and hide from it. But the Rebbe doesn’t find it intimidating at all, and with his strength and encouragement we must attack and take control of this beast, by replacing it with the light of Torah (through our increased Torah learning in both nigleh and chassidus), with the light of mitzvos (through our increased attention to performing mitzvos, both ourselves and with others), and (through them) with the light of Moshiach!
The month of Kislev is known as chodesh hage’ulah, and this refers to both the geulah protis; - the redemption of each neshomo from the golus caused by its’ guf and NHB, as well as the geulah ho’amitis vehashleimah. This, then, is the fitting time to focus on “podoh b’sholom nafshi”, to battle and attack the raging beast – both from within and outside of us -, and bring them to the beis hamedrash, where they can realize the purpose of their creation; - to allow the entire world to be transformed into a dira lo yisborach!
L’chaim! May we all put in all the necessary effort to tame the goy and the ‘dog’ that hinders us, and may Hashem, in turn, tame all the wild beasts, as He promised “vehishbati chayoh ro’oh min ho’oretz”, and kill the wild beast that is the yetzer hora, thus paving the way for the geulah ho’amitis vehashleima through Moshiach Tzidkeinu TUMYM!!!
Rabbi Akiva Wagner
