R’ Yechiel Mandel was born in Mezhibuzh on the actual day of the first Chag Ha’Geula, 12 Tammuz 5687/1927, the day the Rebbe Rayatz was freed. * Almost the only Jewish memory he had from his parents’ home was the fact that his mother would clean the holy Baal Shem Tov’s gravesite. * At age 77 he visited the Chabad house in Texas. He was invited by his son who had become a Chabad Chassid. There he decided that upon his return to Eretz Yisroel he would also go to a Chabad house and become a Chassid of the Rebbe. * Presented for 12 Tammuz
Shevat 5763. Guests from Eretz Yisroel visited the Chabad house in Houston, Texas. They were Yechiel and Yevgeniya Mandel and their daughter Shuli. Despite the Chassidic name of the family and the Chassidic place they entered, the threesome did not look like Chassidim, not even like religious people. The purpose of their visit had to do with a generous invitation from their son Tal who had finished his army service and degree. He had flown to the US and did very well in business while also becoming religious.
Shuli, who had spoken to Tal and realized that he now appeared as a religious person, tried to prepare her parents for the visit with their son. Another brother, Zohar, had also begun the t’shuva process after traveling the world and visiting various Chabad houses. The job Shuli had undertaken wasn’t easy but it was very important.
Despite her attempts, seeing is not like hearing. Mrs. Mandel was horrified by the sight of her son in a hat and with a beard. Her husband, on the other hand, accepted the change calmly.
The wonderful atmosphere at the Chabad house and its outstanding hospitality had won him over. He saw his dear son getting up early and learning Chassidus with R’ Betzalel Marinovsky and looking very happy. He attended farbrengens and enjoyed them. Rabbis Lazarov and Marinovsky and the joy they radiated captivated him.
Before they returned home he emotionally declared at one of the farbrengens, “When I made aliya from Russia, alone, without a wife and children, I only wanted to reach Eretz Yisroel and have the privilege of being buried there. Boruch Hashem, I married and have a beautiful family. Now, when I return to Eretz Yisroel, I will start a new life; I will become a Chabadnik.”
Some people present were skeptical. Would a 77 year old man start the t’shuva process and actually become a Lubavitcher? But the family knew their father well. He was a man who had experienced the terrors of the KGB and had persisted in making aliya and suffered as a result. He was miraculously saved from the German bombs that fell on the train he was on, and they knew that he meant every word he said. The question was only how to “go with the flow.”
Yechiel returned to his home in Rechovot and hurried to the nearest Chabad house and said, “Hello, I am a Chabadnik. I would like a Chabad kippa and Moshiach pin.” From that day on, he let his white beard grow until he looked like one of the ziknei Anash from Russia. Until his passing on Friday night, Parshas Lech Lecha, 10 Cheshvan 5769, his head was covered by a Yechi yarmulke.
One day in Tammuz when, according to the secular calendar, his birthday was coming up, his son Tal tried figuring out his father’s Hebrew birthday. To his great surprise and delight, he discovered that his father was born on 12 Tammuz 5687/1927, the very day the Rebbe Rayatz was released from prison in Leningrad.
He quickly called his father to tell him what he discovered. He also informed the Chabad community in Rechovot, telling them to invite his father to farbreng at the central farbrengen and tell his life story.
In order to understand the background which led Tal Mandel to Texas and to Chabad, we need to go back in time to the home in which his father Yechiel grew up and the family he had in Russia.
THE STALINIST REVOLUTION IN RUSSIA
My father grew up in a home that was distant from Torah and mitzva observance, said Tal, today a dynamic shliach who works in the administration of the Ohr L’Chayal organization. One of the only memories he had in connection with Judaism was a Chassidic one. In Mezhibuzh of those days, there was a rotation among the Jewish families to clean the gravesite of the holy Baal Shem Tov. Once every few months, his mother had the z’chus of cleaning the grave and she told her son about this.
Aside from that, he remembered getting up early Erev Pesach morning and standing on line to get flour with which to bake matzos. He also remembers a festive meal Pesach night with the fresh matzos, and of course, Yiddish songs that were part of his earliest memories of a sweet childhood.
Beyond that? Nothing. Remember, the communists were in power and they had uprooted Judaism. Lubavitcher Chassidim are more familiar with stories of heroism of the Chassidim who were moser nefesh for mitzvos and preserving Judaism, but for most Jews the story was very different.
THE NAME “MANDEL”
Tal says:
I tried making inquiries about our name. In Mezhibuzh before the war there were many Jews and a Chassidishe k’hilla. They probably gave names based on the occupations of the heads of the households. My great-grandfather worked in growing almonds (which is the translation of mandel).
My father and his family knew they were Jews, despite their communist schooling. It was important to parents to instill this message. Although there was barely any mitzva observance, knowing they were Jews made them want to move to Eretz Yisroel.
***
The war began when Yechiel was 13. He remembered the bombing from the German planes. The war began suddenly and they all began fleeing eastward. In his flight, an open miracle occurred. The Germans bombed the train he and hundreds of people were on. The compartment he was in was hit by artillery fire. Dozens of people in his compartment were killed, but he emerged unscathed. He was always moved when he told this story to his wife and children. “It was clear to me that we are the chosen people and Hashem protects us.”
At age 17 he was drafted into the Red Army where he fought for seven years. My father would tell us, spoiled Israelis, that his first furlough from the army was after two years and even then, just for 24 hours, so he could visit his family.
At a certain point, his sister, who had married a Pole, managed to obtain visas for his mother and him. The intention was to make aliya but he preferred staying in Russia with his wife and daughters and finishing his engineering degree.
Life in Stalinist Russia and the Doctors’ Plot that occurred in those years was not good for the Jews, not even for those who thought they had successfully integrated into Russian life. He decided to request a visa and join his family in Eretz Yisroel but that’s when his troubles really began.
He was fired from his job for “wanting to betray Mother Russia” and he was designated the shameful appellation refusenik. Friends and neighbors stayed away from him and if that wasn’t enough, the KGB agent who was stationed in his building was given orders to follow him and try to find additional treasonous acts for which they could put him on trial.
Despite the hardships, he decided to pursue his dream of making aliya, “to visit Yerushalayim and be buried in the holy land.” Every day he went to the government office and asked what was going on with his visa. One day, an open miracle occurred. The clerk, half-jokingly and half seriously, gave him a list of important people in Moscow and said, “If you manage to get them all to sign within 24 hours, you will get your visa.” Needless to say, this was an almost impossible task.
“My father enlisted all his friends and asked each of them to go immediately to a different part of Moscow and get the signature and come back to him with the signed form. In less than a day, he had all the signatures. The clerk had no choice but to keep his word and give visas to him and his family.”
Drunk with joy, he returned home and excitedly announced to his wife and daughter, “We got visas, we are going to Israel!” To his dismay, they were not excited. “You can go by yourself. We are Russians and we are staying here.”
STARTING OVER
He arrived in Eretz Yisroel all alone. This was 1973, shortly after the Yom Kippur War. Since the war, he suffered from a bad ulcer. He did not have much strength to live after everything he lived through. However, reuniting with his mother and sister who had made aliya a few years earlier raised his spirits.
As divine providence would have it, on his last day in the absorption center in Ashdod, right before he left, another Jewish family arrived from Lvov (he had lived in Lvov after the war). The Jewish Agency receptionist pointed out the new family to him and suggested that he help them. That was my mother who arrived there along with her mother. Their shidduch was made in heaven; my father was seventeen years older than my mother! They decided to marry and have a large family. By Russian standards at that time, three children was a “large family.”
We were born and raised in Rechovot. My father worked as an engineer in the Communications Ministry. We lived in a good neighborhood and got a good Russian education that strives for excellence, no less. My father always insisted we learn, have goals, and bring home good grades.
As for religion, we were ordinary Israelis. We had matzos on Pesach night and did not eat chametz. On Yom Kippur, although we did not fast, we wore white and went to the nearby Ashkenazi shul.
When I was drafted, I took a pilot’s course and for half a year I flew planes. I had no plans of being a pilot and did not want to sign and remain in the army for many years, so I was transferred to serve as an officer in the Air Force.
My first encounter with religion was in the army. I had a friend who listened to lectures about Judaism and it interested me, but the style of intimidation and argumentativeness did not speak to me and I moved on. Later on, I studied economics and computer science at the university in Beer Sheva. That is where my consciousness shift began.
CHANGES
Together with me in the student dorm was a friend who had become a baal t’shuva. We spent days and nights talking. I always knew that G-d exists, but questions like why don’t the ultra-Orthodox serve in the army and why don’t they work, along with the media’s brainwashing, led me to the conclusion that although it is true that there is a Creator of the world, the religious don’t represent Him. I felt that I was perfectly okay the way I was and I needed to continue being a good person.
One of the conversations we had, had a great impact on me. He told me that for over 3000 years, Jews have been putting on t’fillin, keeping Shabbos and eating only kosher food. My grandfather’s grandfather’s grandfather put on t’fillin and then, here we were, me, my father, and my grandfather, who broke this incredible chain of thousands of years! So who wasn’t okay then? Who needed to change?
The critical moment is when a person is willing to accept. He opens up and becomes receptive. This “break” from a state of “you have nothing new to tell me” or “you can’t convince me” to a state of openness and willingness to listen, and to know that I wasn’t merely ready to listen and accept but I wanted to listen and accept, is the most important part of the kiruv and t’shuva process.
I started reading a lot of stories of Chassidim and divrei Torah, but because of the strong “anti” spirit in our house, I was careful not to broadcast that I was pulling away and becoming lost to them. I had not yet become a Chabadnik, but every time I went home, I sat with my father to farbreng, of course with good Russian vodka. I would tell them stories of tzaddikim, Midrashim, etc. This process of communication was very important. They saw that I’m a mentch and that although I was becoming involved with Judaism, I was still a smart son, someone with his feet on the ground.
When I finished my degree, a unique business opportunity came my way. A friend who lived in Houston suggested I come and join him. In Houston, I lived in the cheapest neighborhood in the city, with Blacks and Mexicans. On the one hand, I had no connection to Judaism, but it was in this spiritually arid place that my soul woke up and thirsted. So when my friend invited me to Friday night services in the Jewish community, I was happy to go.
It was a Sephardic shul. The davening and the “Lecha Dodi” with the warm singing moved me greatly. The feeling that you could do what you wanted, without peer or family pressure, is what got me to go to shul on a regular basis.
I was not yet religious but my partner said to me confidently, “Tal, every day that you have a test, wear tzitzis and you’ll see that you will do well!” I took his advice and passed all my tests the first time; I did not have to retake a single exam.
Always, after a test, we felt the release of tension and some friends and I would get together for some fun. One time, my tzitzis stuck out of my shirt. When the guys noticed, they asked almost in a chorus, “What Tal – you did t’shuva?!” I didn’t know where to bury myself. I had to come up with some excuse.
A short while later came more excuses. I heard people saying that the shul and the community were not for baalei t’shuva. I was insulted and found myself cooling off and even withdrawing completely from mitzvos. One day I got a hold of myself: Decide what you really want, to do t’shuva or just play games. Then I went to the Chabad house.
R’ Betzalel Marinovsky invested his soul into me. He taught me Chassidus every morning and evening. I was almost immediately drawn into the world of Chassidus. I began immersing in a mikva, praying three times a day with a minyan, learning Chitas and Chassidus, and my appearance also gradually changed to become Chassidic.
They say that someone who has a Chassidic neshama is drawn to Chassidus. This is what happened to me. The community was fantastic and embracing; I felt at home. But the main thing that attracted me was being a shliach of the Rebbe. I saw people who were moser nefesh, who went to distant places and forwent desirable rabbinic positions that they could have gotten elsewhere. They went to spiritual deserts only in order to fulfill the Rebbe’s instruction, to enable another Jew to do a mitzva and to prepare the world for Geula. I wanted and hoped that I could join the Rebbe’s army. Boruch Hashem, my “taava” was fulfilled.
Two years later, after being successful in business, boruch Hashem, I decided to invite my family to America, at my expense. That is how my father got “hooked” on Chassidus. My mother did not change her lifestyle but at my father’s request she koshered the kitchen. It was hard to argue with my father (Tal smiles); the only option was to go along with him.
PERSONAL GUIDANCE FROM THE REBBE
When R’ Marinovsky saw that I was ready for yeshiva, he sent me to the baal t’shuva yeshiva in Morristown. Life in yeshiva was Gan Eden. I felt that “if not now, then when.” Every moment in yeshiva was a preparation for establishing a Chassidic home. I spent a year learning in Morristown. Surprisingly, Tishrei time nobody told me about the importance of going to the Rebbe. Since Tishrei was vacation time in yeshiva, I decided to fly to Eretz Yisroel.
***
When his mashpia, R’ Marinovsky, heard he was going to Eretz Yisroel, he told him to stay in a baal t’shuva yeshiva there. It was about a week before Rosh HaShana.
“The atmosphere in yeshiva was very different than the warm atmosphere I knew in the Chabad house in Houston and in the yeshiva in Morristown. I felt it was lacking chayus.”
Tal began hearing about writing to the Rebbe through the Igros Kodesh. He wasn’t sure whether to return to the US or remain in yeshiva even though he did not feel at home.
“When I went to write to the Rebbe, I felt that I was doing something completely irrational. I was quite skeptical about receiving an answer. But with kabbalas ol and sincere faith, I wrote my dilemma: I felt that I’ve made the most of the place I am learning in now and I am ready to return to the US. What should I do?”
Until today, despite the intervening years, he excitedly tells about the answer he opened to:
“I opened to a letter in which the Rebbe writes to a yeshiva bachur who asked the Rebbe for permission to come and learn in the US, to remain in Eretz Yisroel and learn ‘where his heart desires.’ I was in utter shock. I felt that the Rebbe understood precisely what I was feeling and was guiding me like a compassionate father.
“I did not know of another Chabad yeshiva, but then my brother invited me to celebrate Rosh HaShana with him in a ‘spiritual place’ and that is how I got to Ascent in Tzfas. I loved it immediately. When I asked whether there was a Chabad yeshiva in Tzfas, I was told, ‘Of course, it’s the biggest Chabad yeshiva in the world.’
“So that is how I got to the yeshiva in Tzfas where I got the final ‘tweaks’ in shaping my Chassidic image. From yeshiva I went together with the bachurim to 770 on K’vutza where I became a Chassid of the Rebbe.”
FATHER AND SON – CLOSURE
I felt that events had come full circle after I married and I took my father with me to the Kinus HaShluchim. My father was very moved and he felt the same emotions I had felt, which are probably what every baal t’shuva or longtime Chassid feels, that in truth it is only when you go to the Rebbe that you truly become a Chassid.
On off-Shabbasos I would take my father to t’fillos and farbrengens in Yeshivas Daat where we sat and farbrenged after the davening. At first, when I suggested to my father that he give shiurim to Russian speakers and also be a shliach to spread the wellsprings, he laughed. “Who am I to teach others. What am I, a mashpia?” But when he started giving shiurim, he was very successful. His charm captivated whoever he came in contact with. Even when he met people that he knew in Russia or from his engineering work, who were surprised to see him with a white beard, he would take the opportunity to be mekarev them to mitzvos and the Rebbe.
I would buy s’farim for my father translated into Russian. He liked reading stories of Chassidim and would be moved to tears. The heroism of Chassidim behind the Iron Curtain and their loyalty to the Rebbe were examples for him to emulate and were a source of inspiration for hiskashrus to the Rebbe without being fazed by the outside world.
My father’s dream, after he was able to start a new family in Eretz Yisroel, was to see grandchildren. So many people in his family had been killed and he yearned to hug a grandson who would have his father’s name.
My father led me to my chuppa and merited to embrace two grandchildren. He passed away at the age of 81. The date of his passing was special. He always loved the story of Avrohom Avinu. He felt he lived through what Hashem told Avrohom – “Go from your land and your birthplace and your father’s home, to the land I will show you,” and there you will have children. The image of Avrohom accompanied him all those years in Eretz Yisroel. He repeated this many times. And in fact, his passing occurred on the eve of Shabbos Parshas Lech Lecha.
He died suddenly. That week he had felt chest pains. He had had a minor heart attack and the doctors wanted him under observation. Thursday night he had another heart attack. On Friday morning the entire family went to visit him. We deliberated about whether to stay but he was calm and said to go home for Shabbos, everything was fine.
We found out about his passing on Motzaei Shabbos when I was already on the way back to Tzfas. My sister told us that it was as though he waited for Shabbos to enter. He davened Kabbalas Shabbos and Maariv and then put the siddur aside, closed his eyes peacefully, calmly and most importantly, happy and mekushar.