Retelling our Story (Shabbat HaChodesh)

Over the past two years we’ve had lots of time to think about who we are and why we’re here. A few months ago, my curiosity led me to research my ancestry, tracing it back to the Pale of Settlement, where my great-great grandfather, Rabbi Jacob Lavitt, z’l was born before immigrating to America and moving to Chicago, where I grew up.

The war in Ukraine is hitting many of us harder than other global conflicts; the Pale is deep in the Jewish psyche. As I look at pictures of my relatives, I’m compelled to imagine how challenging their lives must have been: people were poor, life often interrupted by anti-Semitic violence.

But this region also became known as the birthplace of some of the greatest Jewish creativity of all time. 

Exactly 50 years after the Cossack uprising led to pogroms that virtually eradicated the Jewish population in this region, the Baal Shem Tov, who founded Hasidism, was born in a town in Ukraine called Medzhibozh (mejibiz). This region became the cradle of the Hasidic movement - a vital and joyous renewal of Jewish life and practice that continues to inspire the world to this day.

My childhood was populated with stories: Biblical tales, midrash – and amongst my favorites, Hasidic stories, which opened my mind to the possibility the Holy One is always here with us. Today, I want to share one of the tales of the Baal Shem Tov that I heard from my rabbi growing up. 

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When the great Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov saw misfortune threatening the Jews it was his custom to go into a certain part of the forest to meditate. There he would light a fire, say a special prayer, and the miracle would be accomplished and the misfortune averted. 

Later, when his disciple, the celebrated Maggid of Mezrich, had occasion, for the same reason, to intercede with heaven, he would go to the same place in the forest and say: “Ribono shel olam. Master of the Universe, listen! I do not know how to light the fire, but I am still able to say the prayer.” And again the miracle would be accomplished.

Still later, Rabbi Moshe-Lieb of Sasov, in order to save his people once more, would go into the forest and say: “I do not know how to light the fire, I do not know the prayer, but I know the place and that must be sufficient.” It was sufficient and the miracle was accomplished.

Then it fell to Rabbi Israel of Rizhyn to overcome misfortune. Sitting in his armchair, his head in his hands, he spoke to God: “I am unable to light the fire and I do not know the prayer; I cannot even find the place in the forest. All I can do is to tell the story, and that must be sufficient.” And it was sufficient.

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Tonight marks the beginning of the Hebrew month of Nisan, leading up to Passover, a holiday that celebrates the power of stories to redeem us. Though we can no longer engage in the ancient sacrifices, though we may not know the secret meditations of our ancestors, we can still remember those who came before us, and tell their stories. And it will be sufficient.

May this season of storytelling help us connect with the struggles and the strength of our ancestors. As we retell their stories, may we rediscover inside of ourselves, the holy fire they kept lit for us from one generation to the next.