Wedding Celebration in Dnepropetrovsk
I have taken a break and not written for a while. Today is the 14th of Kislev, the [20th] wedding anniversary of our son, [Rabbi] Menachem Mendel and his wife Moussia, long may they live.
This occasion, too, reminds me of the greatness of my husband, of blessed memory.
It was 1928. Anti-religious propaganda was extremely intense, although several synagogues and a Jewish religious community still existed [in Dnepropetrovsk]. By that time, [even independent] left-wing parties no longer existed.
The authorities had already confiscated half of our apartment, leaving us only three rooms. The larger portion of the apartment, of course, was given to the new neighbors. Although the groom and bride were not with us,[1] we wanted to celebrate on that day.[2] To rent a hall was no longer possible at that time. Our neighbor, an engineer, couldn't bear the Orthodox Jewish practices in our home. For example, a considerable number of Jews still came to listen to the Chasidic discourses [my husband delivered on Shabbat], and many attended his Yom Tov farbrengens [Chasidic gatherings]. So our neighbor isolated himself from us, keeping his apartment totally separate from ours.
Somehow, however, our neighbor heard in town that we wanted to hold a celebration to mark the wedding. For our benefit, he broke through a wall between the apartments, opening his apartment to ours. He removed all his furniture and moved out as well, giving us the use of his apartment for as long as we would need. Our original large room had been allotted to our neighbor, so now we had an extensive area [to use for the celebration].
We sent out invitations[3] and the celebration gave everyone in town the opportunity to their respect towards my husband. The spiritual aura [of the event] was so intense that it seemed to assume the character not of a personal celebration but of a religious demonstration.
Guests came from neighboring towns, family members, of course, and we received several hundred telegrams.[4] The evening event at home was attended by representatives of the central Jewish community of our region. Every synagogue,[5] even if it had relatively few members, sent representatives, many of them accompanied by their wives.
Keep in mind that this took place at a time when any contact with clergymen was forbidden, and such a crime could cost one their job. Nevertheless, no one held back, and a large number of prominent doctors and attorneys, who held important positions in the local ispolokom headquarters and the municipality, came and celebrated with us all night.[6]
Telegrams in Hebrew
That day, the telegraph agency functioned almost exclusively for delivery of the congratulatory telegrams that poured in. For two days, special permission was given to receive telegrams in Hebrew[7] [in transliteration]—a language already strictly banned. We, of course, also wrote and received letters in Hebrew.[8] An order was issued that any telegrams connected with the Schneerson wedding should not be censored. This was at a time when any rabbi was apprehensive about walking freely through the street because he was viewed so negatively.
The dance of the Rabbis
The celebration by all the guests is indescribable.
Besides our unhappiness at being absent from our eldest son's wedding, the atmosphere gave us the sense that we wouldn't be seeing him any time soon. Our longing for him was indescribable,[9] and our anguish was felt by the community and by us personally.
My husband danced with his father-in-law[10] and his brother[11] (all three have since passed on).
According to our calculations, not even thirty people were likely to attend our celebration. But it inspired our region's Jewish communities to the extent that three hundred guests actually came to celebrate.
The dance of the Rabbis continued for a long while. Everyone present remained standing and couldn't hold back their tears at this bitter-sweet rejoicing.
As day broke, everyone left to their daytime jobs. My husband's inspiration had transported them to a different world. No one wanted to consider what price they might pay for showing us such friendship and participating in the celebration.
As they were about to leave, Dr. Baruch Motzkin and a lawyer who was a grandson of Rabbi Yitzchak Elchanan [Spektor],[12] as they were about to leave, told me that in their entire lives they had never experienced such a remarkable night, nor will they ever forget this unique celebration and my husband's powerful spiritual energy.
The more religious guests, both young and old, particularly those who were Chasidim, were each inspired in accordance with their spiritual awareness.
I can say that this was indicative of the level of authority and respect my husband enjoyed from all of Russian Jewry. He was approached concerning all Jewish religious issues. This continued for another ten years, with ever greater success—relative to the extent of Jewish communal life at the time – until his arrest in 1939.[13]
