When the Rav HaKodosh of Ruzhin was thrown into prison
for twenty-two months, his son Mordechai Feivish was
only two years old. During those two years, his
education was entrusted to his holy brothers. Then it
was transferred back to his father when he was
released.
When he was merely a small child, a chossid saw
him walking around with a bagel in his hand, crying.
Gently, the chossid asked the reason for his
tears.
"I'm hungry," was the plaintive reply — more
perplexing than the tears themselves. "Isn't that a
bagel in your hands? Eat it and you'll satisfy your
hunger."
The child's tearful answer gave the chossid an
ideal he had not yet heard from an adult, let alone a
young child.
"What should I do? My father taught me that if I feel a
strong urge to do something, it's a sign that that deed
is forbidden. My father always says one must control
one's inclinations!"
Years later, the same self-control was apparent as the
Rebbe sat at his tish, engrossed in his lofty
thoughts without blinking an eye. Many a time a fly was
seen walking between the beads of sweat on his
forehead, but the Rebbe seemed not to notice, resisting
the automatic reflex to brush it away.
Reb Itche Meir of Nemirov related that he was present
when Reb Mordechai Feivish had to undergo an operation
on his finger.
"The doctor tried to give him an oral anesthetic to
numb his senses so that the Rebbe should feel no pain.
However, Rabbeinu adamantly refused to drink, insisting
that he needed his mind lucid and clear for avodas
Hashem constantly.
"Patiently, the doctor tried to explain that he would
suffer immense pain without the numbing, but the Rebbe
remained steadfast.
"Left without a choice, the doctor gave in to the
Rebbe's decision, after the latter had signed that he
took the responsibility upon himself."
Reb Itche Meir describes the scene, "The Rebbe walked
over to the window facing the view of a high mountain
and stretched out his hand to the doctor. The doctor
began his work while the Rebbe began concentrating on
his lofty thoughts, remaining totally stationary until
the awed doctor informed him that the operation was
over!"
After the histalkus of his father, the Ruzhiner
Rebbe, each of the sons were chosen to lead a group of
chassidim. Rabbeinu was then only seventeen, but
despite his tender years he was recognized as a great
leader and began to head a group in Mikolinitz.
Once, when walking in the street, he saw one of his
chassidim arguing heatedly with another man. Upon
asking the chossid what the argument was about,
the young man hesitated.
The other fellow had actually questioned the ability of
such a young man to be Rebbe and this chossid was
in the process of explaining the situation. But how
could he tell this to his Rebbe?
The latter, however, pressed him to reveal the argument
and finally the chossid told him exactly what had
transpired. The Rebbe showed no reaction.
Some weeks later, the scene seemed to repeat itself.
Once again the Husyatiner saw the same two people
arguing over some point. Only this time it seemed that
the townsman was less convinced in his argument and
closer to accepting the reasoning of the chossid.
Again the Rebbe questioned the chossid as to his
argument — the answer being that indeed the man had a
better disposition now towards the Rebbe.
"Is it then surprising?" retorted the Rebbe. "It's
written, `Kamayim haponim el ponim kein lev ho'odom
el ho'odom.' As long as I didn't know this man, he
didn't know me either and had complaints about me.
However, from when I saw him last time with you, my
heart was filled with boundless love for a fellow Jew.
This love evoked in him a reflective love towards me.
Thus the change in his attitude."
The Husyatiner chassidim who had traveled to
Tiveria to the tziun of Reb Yisroel, the son of
Reb Mordechai Feivish, were surprised to hear a story
from none other than their hostel proprietor, Mr.
Chanoch.
"My father, R' Mendel, was a distinguished businessman
from Lublin, who would travel regularly to the Leipzig
fair.
"On one such trip, a Yid asked if he could travel
with him and my father gave him the lift.
"Sitting next to him during the long journey to
Leipzig, my father gathered that this Yid was an
old Husyatiner chossid and he was taken with his
lofty words and practices. Then and there he decided
that on the way back he would make a detour and go to
the Husyatiner Rebbe.
"Upon his arrival, my father was told that he would
have to wait his turn to be received by the Rebbe,
which could mean a few days' stay in Husyatin.
"No problem for a wealthy man like Reb Mendel. He
checked into a local hotel and anticipated being called
when his turn arrived.
"It was already sunset of the second day when the
message came that his audience with the Rebbe was to
take place immediately.
"Hurriedly, Reb Mendel snuffed out the candle in his
room and left towards the Rebbe's house. However, after
a few moments he stopped in his tracks. He had
forgotten the kvittel he had written with the
names of all his family and the pidyon he had
prepared to give to the Rebbe.
"Quickly retracing his steps, my father reached his
hotel room, groped in the darkness until he found the
missing items and ran to the Rebbe.
"With trepidation and awe, my father entered the
Rebbe's room and handed him the kvittel. To his
surprise, the Rebbe didn't even give it a glance, but
remained deep in his thoughts. After some minutes of
silent reflection, the Rebbe lifted his kind face to my
father.
"`And how is Chanoch?' he asked.
"`Boruch Hashem,' replied my father in surprise.
"`May he have a refuah sheleimoh,' blessed the
Rebbe.
"A perplexed R' Mendel left the Rebbe's room. All his
eight children had been listed in the kvittel.
Why had the Rebbe asked only about the welfare of
little Chanoch — and to wish him a refuah? As
far as he knew Chanoch was a healthy child.
"None the wiser, he returned to his lodgings and lit
his candle. His astonishment turned to fear when he saw
his kvittel lying on the table where he had left
it and he realized that he had, in the darkness and his
haste, taken the wrong paper.
"So how does the Rebbe know I have a son Chanoch at
all? And his brochoh?
"With a trembling heart, R' Mendel immediately hired
the fastest horse and carriage to take him home to
Lublin, his anxiety growing as the miles sped away
beneath the wheels of the carriage.
"Indeed his fears were not unfounded, as he was greeted
by his family's solemn and fearful faces. As soon as he
had left the house for the fair, the young Chanoch had
suddenly been taken ill, his condition steadily
worsening until even the doctors had given up hope for
his recovery.
"However, one day the boy began to sweat and seemed to
recover somewhat. From then, his recovery had begun,
much to the surprise of the doctors, who had no
explanation to offer.
"My father excitedly questioned as to the exact day and
time of the beginning of his son's recovery, and
confirmed that it was indeed on the Tuesday just after
sunset — the very time he had been with the Rebbe.
"I am that Chanoch, the miracle child who was saved by
your Rebbe," concluded the hotel owner to his rapt
audience."
Zechuso yogen oleinu.
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The Husyatiner Rebbe Ha'admor Reb Mordechai Feivish, zt"l