The Prison Chaplain

Reproduced with the permission of the Publisher, Mesorah Publications © 2011
It Could Have Been You 2 by Nachman Seltzer

A True Story By Nachman Seltzer

There are certain people who stand out from the rest of humanity by the activities they are involved in and the way they live their lives. The kindness and nobility which grace their features and hearts resonates from within and is felt by all they come in contact with. These are the people who do not hesitate to assist anyone they can. Everyone knows they can be counted on to do the things that nobody else wants to do. They are part of Hashem’s special army of tzadikim.

If the members of this army were assigned rank, Reb Yosef Tevel from Crown Heights New York, would have been a general. A man so full of simcha that it flowed from him like a never ending river, Reb Yossel was well known all over for the sincere care and devotion that he shared with every Jew he met. He was a baal chesed in many areas, but one of his pet projects was visiting fellow Jews in prison. He organized numerous visits, bringing tens of bochurim to visit various prisons around the New York area, singing, dancing, playing music and spreading cheer and goodwill wherever he went. It was one of his special mitzvos and he did it immeasurably well.

The chaplains of every prison that Reb Yossel visited were grateful to him and his boys for their visit which radiated happiness through the forbidding walls of the places of incarceration. They welcomed the dancing bochurim with open arms knowing full well that their prisoners could use cheering up.

Every prison welcomed him but one.

There was one particular prison whose chaplain wouldn’t hear of a visit from Reb Yossel. When Reb Yossel attempted to speak with the chaplain Rabbi Katzman,* he was informed in no uncertain terms that there was absolutely no way he would be allowed into the prison. The chaplain who was a Reform “rabbi” would never condone a visit by Reb Yossel or any of his boys. No way, no how. He was adamantly against the thought of them stepping through the prison gates and bringing their Yiddishkeit into the inmates lives. As many times as Reb Yossel tried calling him to ask his permission to visit the prison, the chaplain stayed his ground.

“Listen well Rabbi Tevel,” he told Reb Yossel, “forget about it. I will never let you in! It’s my prison and I don’t want to see you there!”

………………………………….

When Pesach time came along, Reb Yossel thought about the prisoners and was worried that they wouldn’t have sufficient matzos to celebrate yom tov in the proper way. As intrepid as ever, he managed to get ahold of as much matzos as he needed and distributed them as needed. The only problem was going to be at Rabbi Katzman’s prison because there was no way that Katzman was going to allow him anywhere near the place. There was only one recourse and that was to convince the man to change his mind. Lesser humans might have given up before they even began, but Reb Yossel didn’t know the meaning of failure. True this was a greater challenge then he normally faced, but that was no reason not to at least try.

His heart beating a little quicker then normal, Reb Yossel dialed Katzman’s number.

“Hello?” the voice was direct and to the point.

“Rabbi Katzman,” Reb Yossel said cheerily, “this is Yosef Tevel.”

“Tevel,” said Rabbi Katzman, “what do you want? Whatever it is, you know that you’re wasting your time, don’t you?”

“Well here’s the thing,” Reb Yossel said to the irate man on the other end, “I have lots of matzos that I purchased for the inmates for Pesach and I was wondering if you would perhaps allow me to pay them a personal visit to deliv….” that was as far as he got.

“Are you out of your mind?” Katzman shouted. “Not a chance of a visit! You stay out of my prison!”

“But what about the matzos?” Reb Yossel asked the rabbi when the man paused for a breath.

“Send them to my house with UPS,” Katzman said.

He was stony cold, unequivocal in his refusal to imagine Reb Yossel as anything less then the religion devil. There was no room to maneuver in this situation, or was there?

…………………………………….

The doorbell rang at the Katzman residence. Rabbi Katzman went to the door.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“UPS sir.”

“One second,” the chaplain said and unlocked the door. His shock and surprise were total when he was greeted by a smiling Reb Yossel Tevel standing on the threshold on his home surrounded by boxes and boxes of matza.

“Rabbi Katzman I presume,” Reb Yossel said, extending his hand to the stunned man. “Yossel Tevel. A pleasure to finally be meeting you in person.” The shock turned to outrage in an instant.

“Tevel,” the rabbi yelled, “what are you doing here? I told you to send me the matzos with UPS, didn’t I?”

“You certainly did,” Reb Yossel agreed, “but these are matzos… so delicate, so fragile, and you know how well protected they have to be. Besides,” he went on, “by me coming to meet you this way, you get a chance to see for yourself that I’m not such a terrible person. Who knows, maybe you’ll even decide to let me into your prison?”

Reb Yossel smiled his special smile, the smile that could melt the hardest rock, and somehow, some way, Rabbi Katzman found himself beginning to view this Orthodox rabbi through different eyes. He saw the genuine warmth in the others eyes, the Simchas Hachaim, the love Reb Yossel had even for him, his staunch opponent, and he felt the first stirrings pushing him to relent, even if only in his heart. And for the first time, the sworn Reformist and the kindest chassid had a conversation. It was their first, but Reb Yossel had a feeling that it would be the first of many.

They weren’t friends yet, but the ice had been broken.

…………………………………..

A few weeks later with Lag B’omer fast approaching Reb Yossel decided it was time to try again. A chassid never gives up and Reb Yossel was nothing if not a loyal chassid.

“Rabbi Katzman,” said the Jew from Crown Heights, “this is Yosef Tevel. We haven’t spoken for a few weeks and I have a question for you.”

“You want to come visit the prison with some of your boys right? asked the Reform rabbi.

“How did you guess,” Reb Yossel replied, the smile evident in his voice. “I was thinking that it would be the perfect opportunity, being that Lag B’omer is the ultimate day for singing and dancing. So what do you say Rabbi Katzman? Can I bring down the bochurim to infuse some life into your prison?”

Rabbi Katzman took a few long seconds to reply. Finally he spoke. “You just don’t know the meaning of giving up Rabbi Tevel,” he said. “If it’s that important to you to come dance in my prison on Lag B’omer, fine. But don’t bring too many guys along with you.”

Reb Yossel had broken through. True they weren’t friends yet, but a grudging admiration was in the works. Reb Yossel never underestimated the power of the Jewish heart.

…………………………………..

Lag B’omer arrived. Reb Yossel rounded up the calvary. Not too many guys because that would make Katzman nervous. Just the right amount. Enough chevra to make it lebedig. They brought a giant tape recorder along with them to provide music for the dancing. The atmosphere in the prison was buoyant and lighthearted. The prisoners were swept into the mood. They danced for hours with the bochurim, their normal everyday feelings of depression, boredom and pain, replaced by a higher mood for a short while. Reb Yossel stood off to the side watching the festivities, taking it all in.

Suddenly he happened to glance over at the other side of the hall. Someone was watching them dance. A certain someone who had never wanted them in his prison, who had fought them tooth and nail. Katzman. He was watching the boys. Reb Yossel sensed a certain elusive something in his mood. He watched the rabbi, attempting to decide whether to make a move. In the end, Reb Yossel decided to go for it. It was time to take a chance, give things an opportunity to develop, to gain some momentum.

He approached the rabbi.

“Rabbi Katzman,” he said. “I have an idea.”

The other looked at him curiously.

“You’ve allowed us into your prison and you can see how much the prisoners are enjoying themselves. It’s obviously beneficial for their morale and spirits. Now how about doing something for yourself as well?” Reb Yossel showed the rabbi the pair of Tefillin that he was holding in his hand.

“Can I interest you in putting these on?”

“You know something Tevel,” Rabbi Katzman yelled at Reb Yossel, “you have some chutzpah!! You really do! I let you into my prison, let you dance with my prisoners but that’s not enough for you. No, you have to make me put on Tefillin as well!”

Reb Yossel sensed that Katzman was ready. He walked right over to Katzman who stood there as if immobile and proceeded to pull up his sleeve and begin wrapping the Tefillin around his arm.

Rabbi Katzman shook his head at Reb Yossel. “Listen here,” he said, “you want to teach me how to put on Tefillin? I know how to put them on better then you!” He removed the Tefillin from Reb Yossel’s hands and finished donning them himself. Clearly the man knew exactly what he was doing. It was more then obvious that Rabbi Reform was no stranger to a pair of Tefillin. He wrapped them around his arm, slipped them over his head. Then he began reciting Shma Yisroel.

But he wasn’t able to finish because moments after he’d begun, he broke down in uncontrollable sobbing. It was as if time had ceased all meaning for the rabbi. He sobbed over his life. Cracking, bone jarring cries, the utter remorse evident in his bowed head and the tears streaking down his face. And Reb Yossel stood by his side, giving comfort just by being there. He cried for twenty minutes straight. When he removed the Tefillin from his head he cried out from the depths of his soul while looking heavenward, “Tatte, zayt mir mochel!” (Tatte forgive me!) When the river of tears finally came to an end, he invited Reb Yossel to take a seat and he told him his story.

…………………………………..
He’d been a little boy in Germany when the Nazis surged forth like the waves trying to take over the world. They degraded every Jew who dared walk the streets until it became a terrifying experience just to be alive in those darkest days.

He’d loved his zeidy more then anything in the world; loved him with his entire heart and soul. But he’d been forced to watch as the Nazis humiliated his beloved grandfather, the great rav, the chashuve educator and rabbi, in the middle of the street, in front of the entire world, laughing at the once respected man with the white beard, laughing, jeering, their barking laughter a bitter poison coursing through his soul as he watched his noble zeidy being degraded by the lowest of the low. The German people mocked his zeidy the tzadik. It hurt him so badly.

In the end, he swore to take revenge on Hashem for what happened to his zeidy.

“I debated with myself for a long time,” the rabbi told Reb Yossel, “on exactly how to avenge myself against Hashem. After much thought, I arrived at what I considered to be the perfect plan.” He paused. “I’d become a Reform rabbi, willing and able to corrupt our holy faith from within. After the war, I emigrated to the United States where I joined the Reform movement. It was the perfect platform for me to spread the insidious damage which I was so longing to sew. I helped Jewish people marry non Jews, encouraging them to to stand under the chuppa together in defiance of Hashem. I arranged parties on Yom Kippur, eating and drinking and being merry; all on the most serious day of the Jewish year, all to take revenge on Hashem.”

Rabbi Katzman stopped for a second, his shoulders heaving with silent sobs.

“When I heard that you Reb Yossel a chassid of Chabad wanted to bring a whole bunch of bochurim down to my jail, it hit me like a punch to the gut, as if I had downed a glass of acid.

Could I allow you frum chassidim to hit my prison with your warmth, your true Judaism? It terrified me, because I knew that in the face of what you had to offer, what I was providing wouldn’t last five minutes. So I said no, but you persisted and kept needling away, never taking no for an answer. In the end, your charm won me over. You win Reb Yossel, you win.” He was quiet for a little bit, then he said, “it’s finally time for me to do teshuva, to repent. I know that I was wrong all these years. Now I have to return. I only hope that Hashem will forgive me for the terrible things that I’ve done.”

……………………………………

Two weeks later Reb Yossel received a phone call from Rabbi Katzman’s son.

“Rabbi Tevel,” he began, “Jason Katzman here. I wanted to inform you that my father passed away. For the last two weeks all he could talk about was you; you and the Tefillin that you put on him. We, his children realize the tremendous effect you had on him in the final days of his life. Therefore, it would mean the world to us if you attended our father’s funeral.”

“Of course I’ll come,” Reb Yossel said.

“We’d also like you to say a few words as well if you can.”

“I’ll do my best,” promised the smiling tzadik.

………………………………………

Reb Yossel attended the funeral along with a bunch of bochurim that he brought along with him as well. At the levaya, he stood up and spoke to the crowd from his heart. Considering the fact that almost everyone in the attendance was Reform, it must have come as one eye opener of a speech. Reb Yossel explained that Rabbi Katzman had come to an incredible realization at the nadir of his life. He’d come to realize how damaging his actions had been, and how much harm he’d caused by fighting Hashem. “But in the end,” Reb Yossel said, “his Pintele Yid was reawakened and he longed to return to Hashem and his Torah. His tears were the genuine article, and his repentance extraordinary. His entire life underwent an incredible turnaround and he returned to Hashem and His Torah with complete belief and trust.”

……………………………………..

This was Reb Yossel, a Jew who knew the way to another Jew’s heart. He knew the side streets and the main avenues and the secret alleyways that nobody else ever uncovered. He was the most special of men and will be remembered by everyone who knew him with love and fond memories. May his memory be a bracha for gantz Klal Yisroel.

As heard from Reb Yosef Shidler

*Rabbi Katzman’s name has been changed