A young refugee—who had lost his entire family in the Holocaust—and arrived in New York in the mid 1940s, Rav Chaim Tzvi Schwartz was at a loss as to what to do next. A Hungarian chasidishe Yid, he had received encouragement from the Frierdiker Lubavitcher Rebbe, who encouraged him to move to Brazil and work with the refugees who were dispersed there. He went on to open the country’s first Torah day school and spent decades strengthening observance and providing Jewish education to thousands of children.

One day, Rav Schwartz received a call from one of the parents in the school: their daughter was engaged to a non-Jew, and that they intended to marry. After trying everything to dissuade her, they came to the rabbi in desperation; perhaps he could reach her, ignite the pintele Yid within and convince her to reconsider her plans.

The young woman was courteous but after a lengthy conversation, it was clear to Rav Schwartz that she had made up her mind and had no interest in reconsidering or discussing it further. For several days, Rav Schwartz tried to think of what he might possibly be able to do, and though he had never asked for advice from the Lubavitcher Rebbe before—something compelled him to reach out for guidance.

Almost immediately after explaining the situation to the rebbe’s secretary, Rabbi Hodakov, he received a call back: “The rebbe says to tell the young woman that there is a Jew in Brooklyn who cannot sleep at night because she intends to marry a non-Jew.” The unexpected reply confused Rav Schwartz, and he pressed the rebbe’s secretary for more explanation. “‘I’m sorry, but what does this mean? Who is this Jew?” After a silent pause, Rav Schwartz heard the rebbe’s voice on the other extension: “His name is Mendel Schneerson.”

Slowly returning the receiver to its cradle, Rav Schwartz was even more confused. Could he possibly follow through with the rebbe’s suggestion? The woman would no doubt find this story ridiculous. Nonetheless, with no other recourse, and with a directive from the Lubavitcher Rebbe, he went and knocked at the door of the young woman once again.

“Listen,” she immediately said, “whoever I marry is my business, and no one else’s! I spoke with you only out of respect for my parents and heard you out. But now, you should stop bothering me!”

Wincing, Rav Schwartz barely managed to speak: “Yes, I understand, I’m so sorry! Please, there is just one more small thing I’d like to share with you … ” “So tell me,” she snapped with indignation, “and then I need you to get out of here!”

Rav Schwartz swallowed. “Well, you see … there is a Jew in Brooklyn who cannot sleep at night because you intend to marry a non-Jew … ” She stared at him with a quizzical frown, and Rav Schwartz repeated himself: “Um, there is a Jew in Brooklyn who cannot sleep at night because you intend to marry a non-Jew.”

“That’s what you came to tell me?!” she said, incredulously, and was about to slam the door shut. Then, abruptly, she blinked as if feeling faint. “Wait … Who is this Jew in Brooklyn?”

“His name is Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson … he is one of the great, wise and kind leaders of our nation—known as the Lubavitcher Rebbe—and he is deeply and personally concerned for the material and spiritual wellbeing of every Jew … and he agonizes over every soul that is lost to its people.”

To Rav Schwartz’s surprise, she gazed blankly into space and responded, “Can you tell me what he looks like? Do you happen to have a picture?”

“I must have a picture somewhere! Yes, I’ll be right back … ” He rushed home and searched everywhere for a photograph of the rebbe. Finally, he found an article that he had saved from a magazine and hurried back to show the young woman. With one glance at the rebbe’s face, she began shaking and tears streamed down her face.

“All week long,” she said, in shock, “this man has been appearing in my dreams, imploring me not to abandon my people! I told myself it’s just my subconscious guilt conjuring up an image of an old rabbi … I have never met this man in my life, nor seen a picture of him, nor even heard of him. But,” she sobbed, “this is definitely the man I have been seeing in my dreams … ”

~

In our sedra, Moshe Rabbeinu davens that the Ribbono Shel Olam will ensure that he be followed by a worthy successor.

יִפְקֹד ה׳ אֱלֹקֵי הָרוּחֹת לְכָל־בָּשָׂר אִישׁ עַל־הָעֵדָה: אֲשֶׁר־יֵצֵא לִפְנֵיהֶם וַאֲשֶׁר יָבֹא לִפְנֵיהֶם וַאֲשֶׁר יוֹצִיאֵם וַאֲשֶׁר יְבִיאֵם וְלֹא תִהְיֶה עֲדַת ה׳ כַּצֹּאן אֲשֶׁר אֵין־לָהֶם רֹעֶה

“Let Hashem—the God of spirits of all flesh—appoint a man over the congregation who shall go out before them and come in before them, and who shall take them out and bring them in, so that God’s community may not be like sheep that have no shepherd,” (27:16-17).

Like a shepherd who tends to his flock with care and concern, Moshe takes responsibility for the needs of each individual. Rav Adin Even Yisrael Steinsaltz, zt”l, identified this as a defining principle of Jewish leadership. And yet, this can be a lonely job:

 וָאֹמַר אֲלֵכֶם בָּעֵת הַהִוא לֵאמֹר לֹא־אוּכַל לְבַדִּי שְׂאֵת אֶתְכֶם … אֵיכָה אֶשָּׂא לְבַדִּי

“And I said to you, ‘I cannot bear the burden of you by myself … ’ How shall I bear it alone?” (1:9, 12).

Far from complaining that he was overwhelmed, what troubled Moshe was the reality that he alone bore the burden and responsibility of klal Yisrael—that no one else was concerned or troubled with the needs of fellow Jews. Moshe was asking, “Why am I the only one who loses sleep because of the troubles of our people!?”

Moshe Rabbeinu’s requirement for his successor was that he should “go out before them and come in before them.” And this parallels his lament: “There are so many well-meaning, wise, even righteous people and talmidei chachamim; how can it be that I alone am awake at night, worrying about a lost Jew? How can anyone be indifferent to the alienation, heartbreak or troubles of one’s fellow?”

May our love and commitment to each other transcend time and place, and may we be “successors” to Moshe Rabbeinu and zealous “emissaries” of all our great faithful shepherds: ever awake to the true needs of others.

Rabbi Judah Mischel is executive director of Camp HASC, the Hebrew Academy for Special Children. He is the mashpiah of OU-NCSY, founder of Tzama Nafshi and the author of “Baderech: Along the Path of Teshuva.” Rav Judah lives in Ramat Beit Shemesh with his wife, Ora, and their family.