By Dovid Zaklikowski

Reb Mendel Futerfas OBM was one of the most iconic Chassidim of our generation. Until today, his stories are told and lessons shared.

The COLlive Magazine for Tishrei 5783 presented an excerpt of the forthcoming book My Gulag Life by Hasidic Archives, the very first attempt at a comprehensive collection of stories about his life including biographical sketches and essays by his family.

1. Under the Rebbe’s wing

From the time I was seven years old, I traveled to Lubavitch each year to spend the High Holidays with the Rebbe Rashab.

On the morning of Rosh Hashanah 1919, the Rebbe Rashab’s son, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, approached me and said, “My father is looking for you.”

Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak told me to stand next to his father’s spot in the synagogue and wait for him to arrive. The Rebbe would tell me what he wanted.

The Rebbe Rashab came in, immediately took note of me, and called me over. During the priestly blessing—when children typically stand under their father’s prayer shawl—I should stand with him, he said, under his tallis.

2. Disputed Volume

One year, in the early 1920s, I procured enough money for a train ticket to Leningrad to spend the Yomim Noraim (High Holidays) with the Rebbe Rayatz. This was no small feat: many Chasidim carefully saved money for months before the holidays and still were unsuccessful.

R’ Tzemach Gurevitch, however, preferred an easier route. He approached me with a rare volume of the Rebbe Rashab’s Chasidic discourses, offering it in exchange for my ticket. I agreed.

I treasured the book Tzemach gave me and learned from it regularly. Years later, Tzemach’s father, Reb Yitzchak, also known as “Itche der Masmid (the diligent),” saw me studying the book and recognized it as his own. I told him it was mine: I had purchased it from his son.

Reb Yitzchak was confused but offered to reimburse me. I told him that the book was not for sale. He offered double, but I held my ground.

Frustrated, he demanded to know why I would not return something that belonged to him, even for payment.

I explained that I had paid for the volume with something irreplaceable: “I missed Rosh Hashanah with the Rebbe. Even if you pay me four times the cost of the ticket, the Rebbe is gone, and this time cannot be recovered. All the money in the world cannot pay for this book.”

Hearing this, Reb Yitzchak told me the volume was mine to keep.

3. What Now?

When I went into hiding from the communists, I lodged at the home of a widow with a young child. One evening she placed her son in a bath, not realizing that the water was much too hot. The child was badly burned and died several days later.

The woman was beside herself. She wept uncontrollably, saying over and over, “What did I do? What did I do?”
After a long time, she calmed slightly and began to whimper, “What do I do now? What do I do now?”
Every time I feel the need to return to the correct spiritual path, I sorrowfully say, “What did I do? What did I do?”

And after I calm down somewhat, I think, “What do I do now? What do I do now?”

4. Seeking Believers

One Yom Kippur, as I recited the prayer “And All Believe,” a painful thought entered my mind.

Is it in fact true that all believe? Does that burly, bourgeois man who sleeps on the adjacent cot truly believe?

I quickly pushed these thoughts from my mind, telling myself, How can you think thoughts that are in opposition to the words inscribed in a prayerbook? If they were written, they are surely true.

A week later, my cellmate approached me. “Is it true that you are Jewish?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he said, “I am also Jewish, and I also prayed on Yom Kippur.”

5. Tears of an Iron Soul

Reb Chatche Feigin, secretary to the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe, was a tough character known for concealing his emotions. On two occasions, however, he wept openly.

The first took place shortly after he was married. He had started a business to support his fledgling family, but the Rebbe Rayatz asked him to become a mentor in a Lubavitch yeshivah instead. When the Rebbe saw that Reb Chatche did not want to give up his enterprise, he said, “Nu, we will push it off to another time.”

The following Yom Kippur, when the Rebbe was reciting the haftorah, Reb Chatche stood close by. The Rebbe loudly emphasized the verse “From before G-d he flees.” Reb Chatche understood that the Rebbe was referring to him, and he began to cry. The next day he quit his business and went to work in the yeshiva.

The second time occurred after Reb Chatche had been appointed as the Rebbe’s personal aide. The position took up most of Reb Chatche’s day, leaving little time for Torah study and prayer. This pained him greatly, and he asked that the Rebbe give him time for his own spiritual needs.

“In Gluboke,” the Rebbe responded, “there is need for a new yeshivah.”

Reb Chatche understood that the Rebbe was not accepting his complaint, and he began to cry. The Rebbe began to cry along with him, and said, “I have the same issue, but should I just sit by with folded arms?”

6. Lonely Thoughts

When I came to New York to be with the Rebbe for the first time, I asked for a private audience, but the Rebbe refused without providing a reason.

Only after a week in New York was I informed that my sister Golda Shemtov had passed away in London several weeks earlier. My family did not want me to endure seven days of mourning and had therefore withheld the news from me.

Had the Rebbe admitted me to an audience, I would have requested a blessing for my sister. The Rebbe did not want to have to break the news to me and thus he delayed our audience.

You might ask what went through my mind when I was refused an audience. It is simple: I knew I was such a simpleton that the Rebbe could not look at me. I concluded that if I didn’t return to G-d’s ways, the Rebbe would not agree to see me. So during that week, I was occupied with doing teshuvah.

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My Gulag Life is available for order on HasidicArchives.com