He sees the man dancing as if there are no worries in the world. His legs pump in a rhythm only his soul could produce. He looks like a flame, flickering on and on, reaching for a place beyond anything he has ever known. Wow, how could that man be so happy?<\/p>\n
\u201cWhich man?\u201d<\/p>\n
Startled, the 14-year-old boy didn\u2019t realize he\u2019d asked that question aloud.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhich man?\u201d His father asks him again.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat man,\u201d the young boy points to the whirling man. \u201cHe must be the happiest man on earth.\u201d<\/p>\n
As his father looks to where his son is pointing and sees the black-bearded man with five children in tow, his eyes fill with tears and he sighs. \u201cThat man just lost his young wife six days ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut then how can he be so happy, how can he possibly dance like that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause today is Simchat Torah and it is a mitzvah to dance and to be happy. This is what a Jew does; this is what a real Chassid does.\u201d<\/p>\n
~~~<\/p>\n
Although this story happened before I was born, I have heard it many times.<\/p>\n
The year was 5730, 1969, and, on the second day of Succoth, a young man lost his wife to leukemia. Every year, on Simchat Torah, the young man would take his five young children to a small shul in East Flatbush where they would dance with the Torah and rejoice with the community. That year, 1969, the young man did the same. The children\u2019s grandmother, their mother\u2019s mother, dressed them in their finest clothing and sent them off with their father to East Flatbush.<\/p>\n
It was there, in that little shul, that this dialogue between father and son took place.<\/p>\n
After the dancing in East Flatbush ended, the young man and his five children walked back to Crown Heights. He dropped his younger children off at home with their grandmother and hurried to 770 Eastern Parkway, the central Chabad Synagogue, where the Lubavitcher Rebbe was about to begin a farbrengen (Chassidic gathering). Every year on Simchat Torah, before the dancing would begin, the Rebbe would speak for a number of hours, discussing the intricate energies of Simchat Torah and hakafot. At different times throughout the talk, the Rebbe would pause and the Chassidim would begin singing a niggun, a Chassidic melody sometimes dating back hundreds of years. The young man of whom we speak had the privilege to begin the niggunim at the Rebbe\u2019s farberengens.<\/p>\n
The shul at 770 Eastern Parkway was packed from floor to ceiling; people were clinging to bleachers and rafters just as they did to the Rebbe\u2019s every word. As the Rebbe finished the first part of his talk, he turned to the young man and motioned for him to say L\u2019chaim (To Life!) on some vodka. The crowd, watching with awe, all knew the young man had just lost his wife and they were wondering what his choice of song would be.<\/p>\n
Through the hush of thousands of people, a small but defiant voice could be heard: \u201cMi vadiom nye patonyem, ee v\u2019agniom nye s\u2019gorim,\u201d a hope-filled Chassidic Russian song meaning, \u201cWe in water will not drown, and in fire will not burn.\u201d As the Rebbe began emphatically swinging his arms, he suddenly stood up and the crowd became more and more excited, singing in a frenzy, \u201cWe in water will not drown, and in fire will not burn; we in water will not drown, and in fire will not burn.\u201d Faster and faster they chanted, as if in a trance. Those present could not believe this little man, swinging back and forth, raising his voice from the depths of his soul, \u201cWe in water will not drown, and in fire will not burn,\u201d as if G-d had not just taken his beloved wife, as if he was truly the happiest man alive.<\/p>\n
~~~<\/p>\n
Fast-forward twenty years:<\/p>\n
A phone call comes in to a major Jewish children\u2019s organization in Brooklyn.<\/p>\n
\u201cHello,\u201d the voice on the other end of the line says. \u201cMy name is so-and-so and I\u2019m wondering if you could send some manpower to assist me with a Simchat Torah program I am hosting for the children of my community.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSure,\u201d the man working in the organization happily replies. \u201cBut, if I may ask, why are you hosting a children\u2019s program for Simchat Torah \u2013 are you a youth director at a synagogue?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I\u2019m not, but when I was growing up, my father and I would go to a small shul in East Flatbush to celebrate Simchat Torah. When I was fourteen years old, as I stood watching the people dancing in a circle, I noticed one man who looked so happy, as if everything in the world was perfect. I stood there transfixed, wondering how this man could exude so much joy. I asked my father this question, and my father told me that I should know this man just lost his wife but, because he is a real Jew and the Torah says to be happy on Simchat Torah, he is happy. This made a very big impression on my 14-year-old mind \u2013 that a Jew could put aside all his pain and suffering and be happy just because it\u2019s a mitzvah was unbelievable to me \u2013 so on that day I made myself a promise: in the future, when I have the means to do so, I will help other Jewish children celebrate the true happiness and joy of Simchat Torah.\u201d<\/p>\n
~~~<\/p>\n
Fast-forward another seventeen years:<\/p>\n
On the 23rd of Cheshvon, 5767 (2006), the hero of our story, Reb Hirsh Gansburg, the young man who lost his wife in 1969, completed his mission down on earth and rejoined his wife up in heaven. Yet, his life \u2013 and the life of his wife \u2013 is as true and vibrant as ever. His children and grandchildren have built families and communities, bringing light into this universe; the people he has influenced continue to influence others.<\/p>\n
The story of the young man has taught me much: even in the saddest of times, even when all seems lost, with a little joy, a little dance, a smile, everything can change.<\/p>\n
And this much I know is true: \u201cWe in water will not drown, and in fire will not burn.\u201d<\/p>\n
How do I know, you ask? Well, I, the writer of this story, may have to resort to living proof. You see, that man, the one who took his five children to dance in East Flatbush those 37 years ago happens to be my grandfather, may his memory be blessed.<\/p>\n