A Jew stuck in a Puerto Ricon Prison

A Jew stuck in a Puerto Ricon Prison

770 Chabad Headquarters feels emptier onFridays, as the hundreds of yeshivastudents who grace its benches,armed with a bottle of “L’chaim”and other forms of refreshments,head out to their regular Friday“mivtzaim” routes. Brooklyn’s KingsHighway neighborhood, with itssizeable Israeli émigrérepresentation, is one of hundredsof locations throughout the GreaterNew York metropolitan area toreceive a visit. A pair of T’mimimstops by the avenue of Jewish storesand restaurants each Erev Shabbosto farbreng with the area’s Jewishcommunity and give them a taste ofthe auspicious day’s true meaning.Their main stop was the Kinneret Restaurant, owned byIsraelis, a pleasant locale where aperson could always sit and chat ina comfortable and relaxedatmosphere. With bubbling chassidicvitality, they explained the deep yetpractical meaning of “Rebbe” and“nasi,” stressing how the Rebbe, like all the Chabad leaders who preceded him, placed considerable emphasis upon true and honest concern for every single Jew.

As they relatedvarious stories to illustrate this point, they couldn’t miss the strong emotions displayed by Meir, anIsraeli contractor and builder.With great patience, he waited until they finished speaking, andthen requested permission to tell astory that he had experienced personally regarding the Rebbe’s great concern for every Jew, even someone at the farthestcorner of the earth or the lowest spiritual level.The slight tremor in his voice ashe began his account was a living emotional confirmation for all thefarbrengen participants, includingthe restaurant owner, Avner Harush,and his brother, Yosef Yitzchak.While Avner and his brother werewell acquainted with Meir and had heard parts of his story on more than one occasion, this was the first time they were hearing it in its entirety.“About twenty years ago, aftercompleting my military service,”Meir began, “I made my way, as many Israelis, to the land of dreams– America. I established myresidence in New York and started making a living by renovating houses. During the evenings, I liveda life of self-indulgence. When I wasin Eretz Yisroel, I was still connected here and there to themotif of Torah and mitzvos, such asgoing to synagogue on Shabbos orkeeping a minimal level of kashrusand fasting on Yom Kippur. But inAmerica, I broke off the yokecompletely – no Jewish values, noTorah, no ethics or morality.Everything was permissible. Duringthe day, I made money from mys toryHow could I possibly explain to theauthorities that I had nothing to dowith such a crime? They had myfingerprints on the counter, and theywere absolutely determined to tiesomeone to the incriminating evidenceand close the case. * My attorney’sarguments fell on deaf ears. I wasconvicted of a crime I had notcommitted!THE REBBE ANDTHE PRISONERBy Nosson AvrohomTranslated By Michoel Leib Dobrywork, and I squandered it all atnight.“One fine day in 5753, duringthe hurricane season that struck thesoutheastern United States, one ofmy good friends called and told methat he had just come across arecent copy of the ‘Yisroel Shelanu’newspaper, then published by R’Shmuel Shmueli. My friend had hadseen an advertisement that theywere looking for renovationcontractors to work in S. Thomas inthe U.S. Virgin Islands, which hadbeen hit by the full force of thehurricane winds. Most of the houseshad been severely damaged at best,totally destroyed in many cases.Trees had been uprooted and roadsbroken, and the territorialauthorities were looking forexperienced builders from all overthe United States to repair thedamage for good pay.“A brief calculation determinedthat it was possible to earn aconsiderable amount of money.Within just a few days, my friendand I were on a plane en route to S.Thomas. We decided to make a stopon the way in Miami, where we hadmany friends and acquaintances,thinking that if we were alreadytraveling to the region, we shoulduse the opportunity to go and visitthem. As it turned out, we actuallyended up staying in Miami for sixmonths. During that time, wedeveloped our specialization in thefield of home renovations. Repairingall the damage in the area tookseveral years, and since noteveryone was jumping at theprospect, there would be plenty ofwork for everyone. We were in noneed to rush. As in New York, ourprimary interest in Miami wasrecreation.“One Erev Shabbos Iexperienced something trulyexhilarating. For some reason, myJewish soul flashed within me, and Isuddenly remembered Shabbos inmy father’s and grandfather’s home,making Kiddush and going tosynagogue. I decided to go and lookfor a place to pray on Shabbos. Myfriend thought that I had lost mymind, and he tried to dissuade mefrom my sudden religiousness. Hetold me that he was positive thatthere were no synagogues in thevicinity of our neighborhood, but forwhatever reason, I wouldn’t give in.I got dressed in festive attire, andset out into the city’s streets in thehope of finding a synagogue. Isimply went wherever my legs wouldtake me.“After just a few minutes, I wasstunned to see a bearded Jew,dressed in black, walking down thestreet. I ran towards him and askedhim if there was a synagogue in thearea. He smiled and told me thatthat he is an emissary of theLubavitcher Rebbe, and suggestedthat I join him on his way to theChabad House for Shabbos services.I was absolutely overjoyed, and sawthis as a tremendous case of DivineProvidence – if you want it, Heavenwill help. After services, I walkedwith the shliach and some othercongregation members to his housefor the evening Shabbos meal. Iexperienced a very unique spiritualfeeling, but it quickly vanished inthe days that followed.“A few weeks later, we traveledto S. Thomas and success shined onus in everything that we did. Weworked day and night, and earned aconsiderable amount of money,more than I had ever earned in myentire life. We remained there for awhole year, during which I totallyabandoned Jewish tradition. Weconducted ourselves in whateverway we desired.“When the job was completed,we decided to return to New Yorkand stop in Puerto Rico on the wayto do some touring. Among the siteswe visited was a synagogue. Whenwe saw sand scattered all over thefloor, we simply assumed that theplace was in need of renovation. Itwas only later that we understoodthat it was a symbol incommemoration of the destructionof the Beis HaMikdash.“We spent the entire HighHoliday season in Puerto Rico, andthen headed to the airport for ourflight to New York. We wentthrough the security check withoutany problem and had settled intoour seats when two local policemenboarded the plane. We could seethat they were looking for someone,and I had a feeling that they werelooking for us. Indeed, after a fewminutes, one of them came up tome while the other approached mycompanion, asking that we showthem our identification. We tried tocome up with a variety of excuses,but the officers were determined.When they understood that wedidn’t have the required visitors’permits, they took us off the planeand placed us in the airport jail. Wewere beside ourselves.“It is impossible to describe thefeeling that surrounded us. We hadalready built our lives here, andsuddenly, with the wave of a hand,the dream is gone. After a fewhours, several officers entered thejail cell and told us that they arepresently checking our files, andthat it should be clear to us that wewould be barred entry to the UnitedStates and will be sent back to EretzYisroel in a few days. A couple ofdays later, an officer entered our cellagain and told my friend that he isbeing placed now on a plane back toIsrael. He then turned to me andsaid that I am staying because theystill have something to check out.“I was gripped by fear. I askedthe officer for an explanation, but herefused to reveal the basis for theirsuspicions. I felt engulfed by tensionand dread that I had never knownbefore. I was in prison, clearlysuspected of committing some serious crime, but they wouldn’teven tell me what the charges are. Ifeared that they wouldn’t agree totell me what I was being chargedwith until I was standing before thejudge. Worry kept me up all night,and robbed me of my appetite.When they finally allowed me to callonly two people, I immediatelyphoned my married sister living inNew York and related all that hadtranspired.“My brother-in-law gave me acalling card number to contact himif necessary. He got the Israeliconsulate involved in the story andhired an expert attorney to representme during the trial. After a few daysof clearing things up, my attorneymanaged to find out the chargesagainst me. The authorities hadfound my fingerprints in the jewelrystore of some friends that had beenburglarized. The suspicion was thatI had been the burglar.“When my brother-in-law toldme about the charges, I wasfrightened and bewildered. I didn’tknow where this had possibly comefrom. I remembered that I had beenin that store with several of myfriends – but to accuse me withburglary and theft? How could Ipossibly explain to the authoritiesthat I had nothing to do with such acrime? They had my fingerprints onthe counter, and they wereabsolutely determined to tiesomeone to the incriminatingevidence and close the case. Theattorney retained by my family cameto Puerto Rico and told me that theywere charging me with a veryserious crime. While he said that hewould do everything he could tohelp me, he added that the chancesthat the judge would believe mydefense against the evidence wereslim at best.“I walked around my detentioncell like a caged lion. I felt as if Iwas in a dream. When the trialfinally began, the prosecutorsclaimed that the fingerprints wereproof that I was involved in theburglary. My attorney rejected thecharges, stating that I was a friendof the store-owners, and that since Ihad visited there, it was only naturalthat my fingerprints would be leftbehind. The judge rejected thisassertion on the basis that thefingerprints were found behind thecounter, and even good friendsdon’t enter the place where thesalesmen stand. I was convicted,and the judge decided that he wouldpass sentence against me at a laterdate.“Distressed and mortified, I wastaken back into custody.“The following day, handcuffedlike a common criminal, I was takenaway to jail, a two hours’ journeyfrom the detention area. I felt utterlyhumiliated and wronged forsomething I hadn’t done – a literalcase of going from the highest peakto the lowest depth. I had enjoyed alife of leisure and freedom and hadeverything I wanted, and suddenly ithad all ended.“I presented myself before thenew prison director, a stocky andawkward Puerto Rican Gentile (if hehadn’t worked there, he surelywould have been your run-of-themillfelon). He gave me twoalternatives: a) to sit together withconvicted murderers; b) to sit withone other prisoner convicted oncharges similar to mine, but he wasa Palestinian…“It wasn’t an easy choice, but Ipreferred to sit with the Palestinian,despite the fact that the first intifadahad broken out around this time. Inthe presence of the prison director,we made an agreement between usthat we would not antagonize oneanother, and so began a period ofseveral nerve-wracking weeks. Itcould be more than a year beforethe judge would pass sentence, andwho knew how long he would giveme? I cried bitterly over my fate.These were the saddest days of mylife. I had not even been given theopportunity to defend myselfproperly. Everyone was certain thatI’m some common criminal whodenies committing any violation ofthe law, despite blatant proofs to theopposite. I knew the truth – that Iwas completely innocent – but therewas nothing I could do about it.“Months passed, and the holidayof Chanuka arrived. I vaguelyrecalled that this is when we lightcandles and eat jelly doughnuts, buthad never really learned anything ofthe deep inner meaning of theholiday. On the third day ofChanuka, the Gentiles begancelebrating their own holiday. Therewas great joy within the walls of theprison, and the sounds of cheersand exultation were heard from theinmates, as if they had just been setfree. As evening fell, the jailor incharge of our wing entered my celland informed me that a large festivemeal was being hosted in the dininghall by Christian priests, and he toldme in detail what types of foodswere being served. Everyone elsewent down, Christian or otherwise,including my Muslim-Palestiniancellmate. I’ll never know whatcaused me to refuse to go down tothe party, yet, something within me said ‘stop’. Until that moment, I hadconducted myself as everyone else,eating all these foods, speaking likeeveryone else. However, a new spiritsuddenly rested upon me, causingme to be the only one to stubbornlyremain alone in his cell.“My refusal aroused the angerand wrath of many prisoners. Thebullies among them intimated that ifI didn’t come, they would see it as aform of contempt for all that is holyto them. Nevertheless, I remainedundeterred. It was only then that Ibegan to feel with much intensitythe difference between me and theother prisoners.“After a few long minutes, as Ilay in my bed absorbed in mythoughts, I heard the buzzing of thefront gate to the wing, followed bythe clinking of the cell keys. Iperked my ears in the direction ofthe noise, and then suddenly I heardthe words, ‘Righteous Jew, wake up,it’s Chanuka.’ At first, I thought thatI was dreaming; I couldn’t believe itwas true. I wondered if I wasstarting to hallucinate.“Then, however, I heard thedoor to my cell opening, and theiron chains of the locks began torattle. I got up from my bed, andwas shocked to see the jailoraccompanied by two youngChabadnikim calling repeatedly,‘Righteous Jew, wake up, it’sChanuka.’ One of them was holdinga carton of jelly doughnuts andchocolates, while the other held amenorah and a box of candles. Irubbed my eyes in bewilderment andwashed my face in the basin to makeabsolutely certain that this wasn’t adream. The water quickly mixedwith the tears that were freelyflowing down my cheeks…“I will never forget thefriendliness and charm of theseyoung bachurim. They told meabout the long journey that hadmade until they received thenecessary permits to come and seeme, and then they said that this isthe holiday when the Jewish soulovercomes the body – the powers ofpurity over impurity. As they werespeaking, I began to sobuncontrollably as if I were a child. Itold them about the uncharacteristicdecision that I had made justmoments before they arrived, whichnow seemed like a piece of a puzzlefalling into place. After we lit theChanuka lights, theyenthusiastically explained that theywere shluchim of the LubavitcherRebbe, the leader of the generation,who has concern for every Jew, evenif he is far away in prison.“They sat with me for about halfan hour, and gave me tremendousencouragement. I couldn’t stopcrying throughout the entiremeeting with them. I felt that Icould finally relieve the heavyemotional burden that hadaccumulated over the past severalmonths since my arrest. I told theyoung bachurim why I was sitting inprison, and they replied that forreasons such as this, there is aRebbe among the Children of Israelto whom it is possible to write andreceive his bracha. I was a bitskeptical. How can a blessing fromthe Lubavitcher Rebbe help aproblem that the biggest lawyer hasfailed to solve? But they wereadamant. I asked them if theyperhaps have certain connections,based on the fact that they managedto get permission to enter thisheavily guarded prison. They merelysaid it wouldn’t be connections thatwould help in this case, but a brachafrom the Rebbe.“They told me the story withMoshe Rabbeinu, who ran after thelittle lamb that had been separatedfrom the rest of the flock, and howthis demonstrated that he is fit tobe the faithful shepherd of Hispeople. So it is with the Rebbe, onwhose shlichus they had come now.“In the end, I gave in. I wrotedown everything that I had gonethrough in great detail, and thenhanded them the letter.“I don’t know what they did withmy letter, but in writing – I felt thatI had unloaded all the tremendouspain that had built up in my heartonto that page. Afterwards, I feltlike a new man, clean and refreshed.They left me a package of Chanukacandles and a menorah, taught mehow to light the candles for theremaining days of the holiday, andthen we parted from one anotherwith a warm hug.“Since then, I have consideredthe Rebbe and Chabad to be themost important movement in theworld. No can possibly imagine thegreat love and devotion that theyhave for every single Jew.“The most amazing thing aboutthis story is that just a few dayslater, I was out of jail…“Suddenly and unexpectedly, theprison director and several jailorsentered my cell to inform me thatthe judge had decided my sentence.I was to be banished…to Israel.“I had been certain that I wouldbe sentenced to at least ten years inprison, cut off from everyone, butG-d apparently saw to do otherwise.I laughed and cried at the same timefrom the sheer joy and emotion thatsurged through my body. The jailorsdidn’t give me much time forsentiment, and ordered me to gathermy belongings. From there Iboarded a plane to New York andthen straight back to Eretz Yisroel.”

Re Printed From Bais Moshiach Magizine