Seidemann: Wouldn't it be great ...

From the other side of the bench

By David Seidemann Issue of June 26, 2009 / 4 Tammuz 5769

Two sisters each had issues that had hijacked their daily lives. One had a rare medical condition that affected her mobility and would require transfusions and/or surgery. The other was emotionally exhausted; her 42-year-old son couldn’t seem to find a wife.

Both sisters, while not belonging to the Lubavitcher Hasidic sect, attended weekly classes given by the wife of a Lubavitcher chasid. She, keenly aware of the sisters’ suffering, suggested that the two women visit the grave of the late Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson. There they would find a book of letters authored by the late Rebbe over the years, generic letters sent to his flock addressing their individual and collective sufferings.

It couldn’t hurt to make the trek to the Ohel, as the Rebbe’s monument in Queens is known, the two sisters reasoned. They found The Book of Letters and sister number one opened the book. I heard this story from the woman herself, a client of mine, who shared it with me after she read the column I wrote last week about my grandfather.

“I opened the book,” she said “precisely to a letter that read as follows: ‘My dear daughter, I know how concerned you are regarding your health. But do not fear. All will be well. Your healing will be divine and will not come from any doctor of medicine.’” She cried, closed the book and handed it to her sister. Her sister opened the book precisely to a page, to a letter, that read: “My dear daughter, I know how concerned you are regarding your child, but do not fear, I know the girl’s family. They are wonderful. You will be making a simcha soon.”

Four days later the sister with the medical condition arrived at her doctor’s office for a scheduled appointment. The doctor was flabbergasted when he reviewed the medical images; that which was evident in the previous scan had disappeared. He had no explanation to offer her but posed a question: “I just gave you incredible, unexplainable news and you are not reacting,” he said. “I would figure you would be dancing around this examination room.”

“I knew four days ago,” she replied. “I’ve been dancing for four days.” She explained her odyssey to the Rebbe’s grave and actually took her doctor there to show him the letter she had read that had changed her life.

Sister number two did not experience such immediate relief. Two months later she felt the need to escape to Israel for a few days to recharge her batteries and to pray in places utilized by so many for that purpose over thousands of years.

On the very weekend that she was away, her 42-year-old son called his mother’s sister, his aunt, my client, the one whose medical condition had cleared up, and asked if he could bring a friend for Shabbos lunch. When they walked through the door that Shabbos morning, the aunt instinctively threw her arms around his guest, a beautiful girl named Chana, kissed her, and said, “Welcome to the family.”

That Saturday night the aunt received the phone call they had all been waiting for. The 42-year-old man was engaged. “Come over right now — I’ll make a L’Chaim and a vort,” the aunt said, offering to make an engagement party in her home on no notice. “No, not now,” her nephew responded. “First we have to go to the Rebbe’s grave in Queens.”  “But you aren’t Lubavitch,” said the aunt.  “I know,” he replied, “but my bride is Lubavitch and we need to go to the Rebbe’s grave first.”

Once again the Rebbe’s words were true. For the bride was indeed a wonderful girl and the Rebbe, as the initial letter said, did know her family. Her paternal grandfather and the late Rebbe of blessed memory were well known to one another, having shared many experiences in their younger years.

But here’s where the story gets creepy. The bride’s paternal grandfather and the groom’s paternal grandfather knew each other as young yeshiva students in the early 1900s. In fact, they were chavrusas, study partners, in the famed Ponevezh Yeshiva. When they parted ways so many, many years ago, they thanked each other for the spiritual growth they allowed the other to attain. They thanked each other for being best friends. They had a picture taken together that the families still maintain. But most importantly, they said to each other, “Wouldn’t it be great if one day one of my grandchildren would marry one of yours?” That is how they parted company, only to be reunited generations later. David Seidemann is a partner with the law firm of Seidemann & Mermelstein.  He can be reached at (718) 692-1013 and at ds [at] lawofficesm.com.