Yud Beis/ Yud Gimmel Tammuz

In June 1927, the Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, of righteous memory, was arrested and sentenced to death. In the months before his arrest, the Chassidim closest to him sensed the increasing danger posed by the Yevsektsia—the Jewish section of the Communist Party dedicated to eradicating Judaism in Russia. This excerpt from the forthcoming biography “Undaunted” by Rabbi David Eliezrie offers a compelling glimpse into the tense period leading up to the Rebbe’s arrest and highlights his unwavering resolve in the face of mounting threats.

Thanks to the advocacy of Jews worldwide, the Rebbe was released on the 12th of Tammuz (Yud Beis Tammuz), a date that Chassidim across the globe continue to celebrate as a holiday.

The chassidim in the vicinity of the Rebbe began to have a sense of foreboding during the High Holidays in September of 1926. Traditionally, before the sounding of the shofar, a series of verses are recited out loud by the cantor with great emotion. Before the words, “al ya’ashukini ziedim,” let the wicked not oppress me, the Rebbe cried out in a loud voice, “Oy gevalt!” This extraordinary expression of angst by the Rebbe alarmed the chassidim. Rabbi Eliyahu Althaus, who was standing nearby, was extremely disturbed.1

“The Rebbe was always vigilant with his words, even in ordinary conversation,” Althaus notes, “and much more so on the first day of Rosh Hashanah.” To Althaus it was clear. “This was an omen.” That portentous feeling was felt throughout the holiday of Simchat Torah,2 normally the most joyous of occasions. “The talks of the Rebbe that night and the next day were infused with a sense of bitterness.” The Rebbe asked that all the congregations around the world start reciting a daily allotment of Psalms, which are usually recited during times of distress. Chassidim wondered if this request from the Rebbe was from a premonition of dangerous times ahead.

“I am permitting myself to reveal to you certain things said to me in private,” wrote the Rebbe’s secretary, Yechezkel Feigin, to his friend Yisroel Jacobson in the United States, about that fateful Simchat Torah.3 “After the talks at the table, the Rebbe retreated to his study.” Sensing a moment of opportunity, “I took my son into the Rebbe’s room to receive a blessing. Afterwards, I remained alone with the Rebbe.” Then, Feigin changed the subject from personal to the hardships of recent months, requesting a blessing, “to remove the obstacles to Torah study.”

The Rebbe was silent, “He seemed to be in a higher world.” Finally, he responded, “Chatche (Rabbi Feigin’s nickname)! There is no blessing for this. Our Father Abraham conducted himself with self-sacrifice because it had to be done. For Abraham, the self-sacrifice was part of what he had to do, because it was necessary to reveal Divinity in the world. He needed to do it, so he did it.”

The Rebbe then contrasted this with the self-sacrifice of Rabbi Akiva, who taught Torah despite the ban by Roman authorities in the second century. The Talmud explains that while the Romans were torturing Rabbi Akiva to death, he remarked that he had always yearned to be a martyr for G‑d.4

“In our case,” he continued, “we must strive to teach Torah, and if self-sacrifice is required, we will do it too.” Unlike Rabbi Akiva, the Rebbe was not seeking martyrdom. But if it was necessary to fulfill his mission of teaching Torah, he was ready.

The moment when the Rebbe might be required to pay the ultimate sacrifice seemed to be drawing closer. All that winter, Althaus writes, “Heavy clouds hung over the Rebbe, and the entire Chabad community. The atmosphere in his home was charged with dread.” They discovered later that the Yevsektzia was “energetically fabricating slanderous accusations against the Rebbe.”

In February of 1927, they made their first public move.5 The Rebbe’s secretary, Rabbi Elchonon Morozov, was arrested and jailed with what Althaus calls, “the worst political prisoners.” Before he was taken away, Morozov managed to secretly hand over the list of underground yeshivas and schools to his eleven-year-old son, who hid it without the police noticing. Feigin says Morozov was a key figure in the underground and his arrest was “terrifying and ominous.”6 Morozov had carried much of the financial responsibility for the yeshivas. His arrest created an additional financial strain on the yeshivas’ operations.

The shadow of the Yevsektzia loomed like an angry beast waiting to pounce at the slightest provocation. Still, the Rebbe courageously disregarded their intimidations and the very real threats. On Purim, in mid-March of 1927, the Rebbe held a fiery public farbrengen. Rabbi Zalman Duchman7, present then, described it as “terrifying.” The Rebbe screamed, “Who is the Yevsektzia? A rabbi’s son? A butcher’s son? A villager’s son? I am not frightened by them!” He brazenly urged his chassidim to continue practicing and spreading Judaism, defying the government’s opposition to the point of self-sacrifice. The Rebbe repeated over and over, “We must sacrifice our lives not to send our children to their schools.”8

“In every conceivable way,” describes Althaus, “this Purim was unlike any other. The Rebbe spoke with such passion, at a level we had never heard before. It felt like he was literally pouring out his soul.”

At one point, the Rebbe turned to one of his chassidim and forcefully enjoined him, “Zalman, if they ever build a bonfire and confront you with the choice of yielding your child to their schools or casting yourself into the flames, let yourself be cast into the flames!” Everyone was acutely aware of the Yevsektzia spies present at the farbrengen, listening to every word. Duchman said, “Everyone was in dread.” Althaus recalls, “We gazed at the agents, their faces flushed with anger. We knew that it was only a matter of time before something terrible would happen.”

Rabbi Eliezer Poupko was the rabbi in the Russian town of Velizh. A local communist activist confided to him that the Rebbe would be arrested shortly. He decided to travel to St. Petersburg to warn the Rebbe. The Rebbe was unfazed by Poupko’s report, addressing him in a deferential third-party Yiddish, “Velizh Rav (Rabbi of Velizh): I am ready to go on Mesiras Nefesh (to give up my life).” As Poupko told his grandson, Mordechai Dov Ber, “The Rebbe would not budge.”