[17:50, 12/7/2017] Rabbi Lipszyc Weekly Story: Rabbi Lipszyc's Story of the Week #44
Dedicated in honor of Yud Tes Kislev, Rosh Hashana LiChasidus
In honor of Chanukah we are printing an amazing story, once again out of chronological order. This story took place while we were living in Birmingham, Alabama. It is a very long story and thus will break it up into two parts.
The Most Miraculous and Unique Menorah
In order to fully appreciate the miracles and hashgacha Elyona involved, I need to preface the story with a description of the layout of the city, the general attitude of the Jewish establishment in Birmingham, and their feelings towards any changes in their community. Alabama of course is a southern state. In fact during the Civil War, Montgomery, Alabama was the capitol of the Confederacy. The south has always been known for its “southern hospitality.” What isn’t known, however, is that the hospitality consists of “how can we assist in helping you to move on to somewhere else?” They were not particularly welcoming of “outsiders” actually moving in to live there.
The day before Yud-Alef Nissan, 5742, we received our new shlichus from the Rebbe, to open Chabad in the state of Alabama. A lot of ground work still had to be done before we would actually be moving there, but just to start something in honor of the Rebbe's birthday, I immediately flew down to Birmingham and distributed shmura matzah for Pesach. I then traveled back and forth (between Michigan, my place of shlichus until then, and Birmingham,) meeting with members of the Jewish community and trying to prepare the city for my family’s move. Before Rosh Hashana, we sent out eleven hundred specially prepared calendars, with little packets of honey attached, to wish all the members of Hadassah in Birmingham a sweet and happy New Year. However, we didn't actually move to Birmingham until Rosh Chodesh Kislev, 5743 (November, 1982.)
To appreciate the amazing and ongoing hashgacha protis connected with the following story, we have broken up the story by years, as it actually happened, while inserting the different surrounding scenarios, either as they were taking place or where the continuance of the story necessitates it.
Birmingham, Alabama is a beautiful city set between mountains. It is surrounded by hilly suburbs, which are connected by modern highways. Mountain Brook is an exclusive, wealthy suburb, where ninety-five percent of the Jews of Birmingham resided. This particular suburb is connected to Birmingham via the Red Mountain Expressway, a road which is very unique in the way it was built. A passageway was blasted through the middle of the mountain, and the highway was built through it. While excavating, it was discovered that the mountain was filled with a unique, rich red ore. They also found imbedded in the mountain some bones from a “prehistoric” animal, as well as some other interesting items. The city therefore built a small, three room museum to house these “finds” atop the mountain, overlooking the highway. The highway was named the Red Mountain Expressway, and the museum, the Red Mountain Museum. Almost every Jew, living in and around Birmingham, travels this strip of highway at least twice a day, going to the city and returning, a trip of about 20 minutes.
My family first moved to Birmingham Rosh Chodesh Kislev 5743, and 6 days later (vov Kislev) I made my first public event (my oldest daughter’s bas mitzvah and my 2nd son’s upsherinish.) Also, I still didn’t know the city. So I didn’t even think about a public Menorah lighting that year. The following year, on Kislev 14, 5744 (the Rebbe & Rebbetzin’s anniversary) I was driving on the Red Mountain Expressway, past the museum. Just as each other time I passed the site, I was daydreaming of that day, in the distant future, when I would be able to put up a beautiful menorah, right on that perfect spot, overlooking the city. That it never even entered my mind to try for the upcoming Chanukah, was based on very down-to-earth thinking: 1. Over the past year it had become all too painfully clear that the Birmingham Jewish Establishment was not very keen on having a Chabad presence in town, at all. Therefore, how could I possibly get the support and clout needed for such an undertaking? 2. Even where Chabad is already accepted, and even respected, a Chanukah menorah on public property is fraught with controversy. In those years, even strong supporters of Chabad regarding other projects, took strong stands against putting up a Menorah on public property. The Rebbe's stand was to fight till the end, the establishment's notion that separation of church and state negates a menorah on public property. However, I was told that it only applied when the shluchim were already trying to put up a menorah, and were meeting with opposition. The Rebbe didn't necessarily mean that we had to go out “looking for trouble.” 3. I assumed that to put up a decent menorah would probably cost a minimum of five thousand dollars, and I was struggling to come up with a mere two hundred dollars for the weekly food shopping! 4. The eleven days remaining till Chanukah would certainly be too short of a notice to arrange for such an undertaking. Suddenly, a little voice in my head said "Ha! And you call yourself a shliach? So what, if they stop you from putting up a menorah, at least you have to try!"
When I got home, sure that it was a waste of time, I lackadaisically phoned the Red Mountain Museum and asked to speak to the director, Dr. Whitman Cross, the third. I explained that I was a new rabbi in town, and would like to meet with him the next day. He agreed. At the meeting, I told him about Chabad Lubavitch, and how we put up 30 foot Chanukah menorahs all over the world, including in front of the White House. I showed him pictures and some very positive articles, explaining that we would like to do the same at the museum, making a grand public menorah lighting. I was so sure that his response would be no, or not this year, that I wasn't at all worried about where would I get the money, if he should answer yes. "I think that's a great idea, rabbi," he said, "but, obviously, I must first take it up with the museum's board of directors, which meets once a month." “Okay,” I was thinking, “perhaps next year.” "And you're in luck," he continued, "the meeting is tonight, and as the director, I can add proposals not already on the agenda. Since I know Chanukah is very soon, I will bring it up tonight. Give me a call tomorrow morning, and I'll give you the answer." I still wasn’t worried about the money; because I was sure there must be at least one Jewish member of the establishment on the board, who would nix the idea.
That night my wife went into labor with our eighth child, k”ah. When we arrived at the emergency room, there was an orderly standing there, who seemed to ignore us, continuing to do what he was doing. My wife told him she was in labor, but elicited no reaction! After a bit more of a wait, she then sarcastically said, "that's okay, take your time, it's my eighth child." He took off at such a speed that he must have broken a world’s record for sure. Unfortunately, my wife paid for that sarcasm. They got her into a room faster than I've ever seen, but she ended up having seventeen hours of labor. The set up in that hospital, for natural childbirth, (in those years it was still a novelty especially in Birmingham,) was a private room that looked like a fancy hotel room with all the conveniences, including a brass bed, armoire (which hid the medical backup equipment,) telephone, table, chairs, couch etc. They also provided a specially delegated nurse to constantly be with the patient until the actual birth. In my wife’s case, there were two nurses, a Jewish nurse, who was also training a non-Jewish one, who was there as a first timer in the birthing room. Being an “old hand” at this, and knowing that she generally had everything under control, during her long labors, my wife continued working with me on our plans for the upcoming Chanukah programs right up to the moment of birth, stopping only during the expected contractions. The nurses couldn't get over how we were continuing on with our work, as if having a baby was an everyday occurrence.
In the morning, I called Dr. Cross, from the birthing room, for the board's response. "Rabbi Lipszyc," he said, "I've got good news for you! The board gave the approval for you to put up the menorah." Dr. Cross then continued, "I'm sorry that I personally am going to miss it because I'm leaving next week on a three week trip to Israel. I am not going to be back until after Chanukah. My chief maintenance man is now on vacation and won't be back until after I leave. Therefore, I'm going to leave him a directive that I am putting you totally in charge of the project. Wherever, and however, you want to do it, he is to help you with whatever you need. I'll see you when I get back."
It wasn't until I’d hung up the phone and passed on the news to my wife, that it suddenly struck me -- I had one major problem on my hands. Where in earth would I come up with a 30 foot menorah? Much to the amusement of the nurses, at this point I felt the situation warranted my getting up and pacing (which I hadn’t done previously.) My wife and I then went through the entire list of people with whom we had made contact throughout the past year, to see if there was anyone we could turn to for help. As we went through our total list of friends and contacts, we realized that all of them were professionals -- either doctors, professors, or lawyers. I felt that I couldn’t approach any of them, for professionals tend to be somewhat "liberal" -- the type that crusade not for, but against menorahs on public property. There was however, one Israeli fellow on the list whom I had no inkling as to what his occupation was, so I called him. "Reuben," I asked, "what do you do for a living?" "I'm a welder," he answered. "Wow, perfect, just what I'm looking for!" I exclaimed. I then proceeded to tell him about the permission that we’d received to put up a 30-foot menorah, at the Red Mountain Museum, and that I needed him to build it. "When do you need it rabbi?" he asked. "For the first night of Chanukah -- in eight days," I replied. "Eight days!?!" he exclaimed. "Well I guess, if I do it at my work place where I'll have all the necessary materials and tools, and I come in early, leave late, use my lunch break, and maybe even get some of my fellow workers to help me… I guess I can do it, Rabbi." Now I had to deal with the delicate part, how to let him know that I can't afford to pay him for the work. I decided to hint to him that I wasn’t able to pay. "Great," I said, "and of course I'll pay for whatever materials you need," clearly indicating that I wouldn’t be able to pay for labor. I had absolutely no clue as to where I would get the money for the materials, but I trusted Hashem would help somehow. "No need to do that rabbi," Reuben assured me, "we have a deal with my boss that whoever wants to work on private hobbies here, can use his materials free of charge. Although, my co-workers have made use of this fringe benefit in the past, I personally have never taken advantage of it. I might as well make use of it for this." He built the menorah for us on time, and our only cost was for nine K-Mart hurricane lanterns and a gallon of kerosene. A grand total of $21 and change.
The day we put up the menorah was really exciting. In the morning, was the bris of my son Dovid Aharon, (tonight’s choson,) and straight from there we ran to put up the menorah. Although the chief maintenance man did everything he was told, it was obvious that he was quite upset about it. Finally, I asked him what was bothering him and he told me that aside from being on the board of the museum and volunteering his services as the one in charge of maintenance, on Sundays he preached as a Baptist minister. (In general Baptists are anti-Semitic.) "You were lucky that Dr. Cross brought up this project while I was on vacation," he explained. "If I was there I would have made sure it never passed!" I responded to him that probably it wasn't just luck; “Someone” 'upstairs' was watching and helping us! In the evening, the public lighting of the menorah at the Red Mountain Museum, was really beautiful and successful and brought much Jewish pride to the general Jewish populace.
The next day, the museum received a number of calls, from the, ahem, "upstanding" members of the Jewish Establishment. "Who authorized the placement of a menorah on museum property?!?" (It seems they knew that Chabad put it up, for the question was not who put it up, but rather who authorized it). "Dr. Cross himself," was the reply. "We would like to speak to him." "Sorry he is out of town." "When will he be back?" "Not for another two weeks." “Who else can authorize removing the menorah?” “Only he can,” was the reply. Much to their chagrin, the menorah would obviously remain "As a light unto the... Red Mountain Expressway" for the duration of Chanukah.
The only mishap was when we brought in the cherry picker" to light the menorah. In order to get it to the spot where it would be able to lift the person who had to light the menorah, the truck had to drive onto the grass, where it did some damage. The heavy truck ripped up the grass and broke the underground sprinkler system. I knew that it was my responsibility to fix it and I was worried about how to get it done right away and how much would it cost? Again, Hashem to the rescue. After the menorah lighting, as I was driving away from the museum, I noticed a landscaping truck driving towards me. I quickly waved it down and asked who the owner was. “I am,” replied the driver. I asked if he happened to be Jewish and received an affirmative response. I then explained about the menorah that we had put up overlooking the expressway, to which he replied that indeed he had seen it and was in fact trying to locate it, to see it up close. I explained to him that I need to fix the damage to the grass, and he asked me to take him there so he could see it. I showed it to him and he agreed to fix it right away for just his cost ($200,) and as he promised, he fixed it the day after Chanukah.
When Dr. Cross returned from Israel, he wrote me a letter in which he said that he was pleased to hear that the menorah project went well and that he was sorry he had missed it. He further wrote that he would like to treat me to a lunch in a local restaurant, and that he wanted to discuss a few matters with me: Firstly, his personal experiences and feelings while traveling through Israel, and secondly, he wanted to understand, what exactly is Chabad’s standing in the Jewish community? (I understood that obviously, the complaints from the Jewish establishment were already coming in.) However, I was pleasantly surprised with the ending of the letter: "...and I am looking forward to joining you next year for the 2nd annual lighting of the menorah," indicating that he was not yet ruling out further involvement with the menorah project.
When dealing with non-Jews, I always found it helpful to bring a gift of mashke. I stopped in next day, to bring him a bottle of scotch, as a token of our appreciation, [I also gave one to the Baptist minister/maintenance man, making him a friend.] Dr. Cross told me that he doesn’t drink, so not knowing that I had already given a bottle to the maintenance man, he gave him his bottle as well. (I was now best buddies with the maintenance man). I then said to Dr. Cross, "I owe you a lunch." He responded by saying that on the contrary, he wanted to treat. But I convinced him that I should be treating, since he doesn't even know where the kosher establishments are, and therefore, he has to be my guest. When he agreed, I gave him my home address, (as there was no kosher restaurant in Alabama,) and set a time and date, later that week. I then went home and asked my wife to prepare for the luncheon date and that she should set up a fancy lunch as if we were in fact in a fancy restaurant. (My compliments to the chef, she did a superb job)!
It was 12:00 noon, on the day of the lunch, and I was rushing home from a late morning appointment. When I turned on the radio in the car to hear the main news of the day, the breaking story of the hour was that the Supreme Court of the United States, five minutes earlier, had just given out their ruling regarding the placing of menorahs on public property. The decision was that it is legal, and cannot be regarded as a breach of the constitutional law of separation of church and state. Dr. Cross and I both arrived at our home simultaneously, and we sat down to lunch. While waiting to be served, (we wanted him to have a total feeling of being in a restaurant,) he told me of his impressions and experiences in Israel, all very positive. He then explained why he wanted this meeting. "You know Rabbi, when I returned from Israel; I received a call from Rabbi Grafman." [As rabbi emeritus of the Reform temple in Birmingham, he was a much respected man in town]. "He said that I, (Dr. Cross,) did a “no-no” by allowing the menorah to be erected on public property; it's a breach of separation of church and state." I replied, "I hope Rabbi Grafman knows Jewish law better than he seems to know American law, since the Supreme Court of the United States does not agree with him. Just twenty minutes ago, the Supreme Court ruled that the menorah may be placed on public property and cannot be deemed a breach of separation of church and state." Dr. Cross was obviously pleased that there was such clear ruling in our favor, but he seemed to be even more impressed, that I was so up to date on what's happening in Washington, that I knew of a Supreme Court ruling of just twenty minutes earlier. Several times during the meal he made mention of that fact. He was convinced that I had strong connections in Washington, and that’s how I knew. I can’t explain how he never realized that I just, “happened” to have heard it on the news. Dr. Cross then went on to commend me. He told me that upon his return from Israel, the maintenance man, (who had been upset,) had complained to him that we’d damaged the property. Dr. Cross asked him to show him where the damage was. Of course, by then it had already been fixed. Dr. Cross remarked that he didn’t see any damage, to which the maintenance man explained that I had had it fixed. Dr. Cross pointed out to him that he wishes that everyone he dealt with would be so conscientious. In most cases when damage is done he has to chase after those who did the damage, and until they fixed it, he would have tremendous heartache. He remarked that what most impressed him was that it wasn't even necessary, on their part, to bring it to our attention! He finished with the words, “a guy like you I enjoy doing business with any day of the week.” When leaving, he once again reiterated, what he had already written in his letter, that he was looking forward to the following year's lighting of the menorah. I thus knew that I could rest easy on the subject of having the menorah lighting at the Red Mountain Museum in years to come.
[I hadn’t previously considered the following saga as part and parcel of this amazing story of the Chanukah public Menorah lighting in Birmingham. Thus I hadn’t told it as part of this story, but rather as a separate incident. However, as I was preparing this complete story in writing, I realized it is definitely connected and part of the wondrous hashgacha protis taking place.
One of the most respected members of the Jewish establishment was the primary partner in one of the most prestigious law firms in the state. Of all the establishment leaders, he was the only one who showed us warmth and kindness. I would meet with him every Friday at 8:30 a.m. We would learn something about the weekly parsha. Although I viewed him as sincere, my wife, who has an uncanny 6th sense, always warned me not to trust him, as he may be acting friendly just so that he can feed our detractors info that would eventually harm us. One day, he told me that he had an idea. He felt that the reason the Jewish establishment was so against me, was because they didn’t understand what Chabad is all about and what we hope to accomplish in Birmingham. He therefore proposed that he would open up his firm’s conference room for a luncheon and invite the important members of the Jewish establishment. He continued that I should bring someone important from headquarters in New York to speak and thereby create an open forum of communication. Believing that this was a great opportunity I agreed, but explained that we would have to prepare the complete luncheon, since it would have to be kosher. He agreed, expecting me simply bring along some sandwiches. I said we would have to plan an appropriate date, and I would get back to him. Enter, hashgocha protis: a day or two later, I got a surprise call from Rabbi Avrohom Shemtov, of Philadelphia. He told me that one of the Philadelphia baalei baatim, with whom he is acquainted, was now sitting in Maxwell Air Force Prison Camp. He would like for me to go visit him. I made arrangements with the prison authorities to do so. (This was an opening for me to eventually become the official contract rabbi in that Federal Prison Camp.) When I told him that I came on behalf of a request by Rabbi Shemtov, he told me that he was surprised and hurt that Rabbi Shemtov himself hadn’t come visit. When I spoke to him, Rabbi Shemtov asked that if he came, would I be able to pick him up at the airport, take him to the prison and return with him to the airport. “With pleasure,” I replied. It then struck me, “whoa, would you be able to be the man from headquarters to speak at this luncheon that we are planning?” He agreed and therefore I was able to move forward with the lawyer about our plans for a luncheon. My wife put together a fancy luncheon, the likes of which no one in Birmingham had heretofore seen. This showed everyone that you can be kosher and classy. I had no idea that I was being set up by the establishment for an ambush against me, telling our “man from headquarters” how I am violating the Jewish community’s code of ethics regarding the public Menorah. The beauty of it, was none of us had planned for it, But Rabbi Shemtov happened to be the most knowledgeable advocate for public Menorah lightings, since he was the one who worked closely with our lawyers, who succeeded in getting the Supreme Court ruling. So, try as they did to put me down, Rabbi Shemtov showed them very clearly that they were in the wrong. At one point, Rabbi Shemtov stood up and said to the lawyer who organized this ambush: “Mr. A. -- you and I both know this is not about a 30-foot Menorah overlooking the Red Mountain Expressway, this is about a 30-foot Rabbi Lipszyc overlooking the city of Birmingham!”]
The next year, Chanukah 5745, when I approached Dr. Cross for permission to once again have a public menorah lighting, he readily agreed. However, he requested that we move the place to the parking lot, so the cherry-picker could access it without damaging the property, as it had the year before. He explained, that true we’d fixed it immediately, but it really didn’t make sense that we should purposely do damage, even if it will be fixed afterwards. I couldn’t really argue with his logic, so, although I was not happy, I had no choice but to agree. Why was I not happy with the alternate space provided? The place I had initially chosen was in such a position that everyone on the highway couldn’t possibly miss it. Even if a driver was looking straight ahead on the highway, out of the corner of his eye he or she would pick up that something was there and would be “forced” to turn their heads to see the menorah. Although the menorah on the parking lot was still visible from the highway, it was noticeable only when the traveler knew to look up. It was not as prominent as the year before. I, therefore, realized that the following year I would have to find a way of getting the menorah back to the original spot. Necessity being the mother of invention, that's when I had the inspiration to make our 30-foot menorah, hydraulic, thus eliminating the need for a cherry-picker. With the push of a button, the menorah would “magically” descend low enough so that we could light it from the ground, and then, with another push of a button, it would extend up to 30 feet in the air. With this in mind I began to keep my eyes open for a hydraulic system, for the coming year.
To appreciate the next stage in this phenomenal saga of continuous Divine Providence, I must turn back the clock to another incident that took place around the High Holidays of 5744. When we first moved to Birmingham, we rented a three-bedroom apartment with a one year lease. Our lease ran out on Hoshana Raba, 5744. In Elul 5743 we received a letter from our landlord telling us they are not going to renew our lease. When I called him (a fellow Jew) and asked what the problem was, he spewed forth pure hatred. What I gathered from talking to him was that members from the Jewish establishment wanted us out of the community and they told him that if he wouldn’t rent to us, we wouldn’t have where to live and would be forced to move out of Birmingham. I asked him to please give me an extension of three months since Elul and Tishrei were my busiest months and I wouldn’t have time to look for another place, let alone pack and move. Very nastily he replied, “not even one day!” I then called HUD in Montgomery, Alabama and asked if they could help me get an extension. After a couple of hours, the director called me back and told me that she had spoken to the landlord and he was so nasty that she threatened him that she would personally come down to investigate his books, since she suspected this might be an act of racism. He grudgingly agreed to a one month extension. After Simchas Torah we began searching for alternative housing, but we ran into a brick wall. Our rent for the apartment was $265.00 a month. Fundraising during that year hadn’t gone too well, due to the difficulty of winning acceptance into the community, and we had just barely managed to keep up with this nominal rent. Having seven children, bli ayin hora, no other apartments were willing to rent to us. (The no children, no pets rule was very much in effect in Birmingham.) To rent a house, would cost us about $1,000 a month, which obviously seemed way beyond our means. In the Elul which had just passed, the Rebbe had spoken very sharply that even l’chatchilla ariber had to be in Olam Hatikun. When I discussed this problem with the secretary of the Rebbe, Rabbi Hodakow a”h, his response was, "Not necessarily so. Sometimes by investing in a larger house, you draw more support, and thus would find it easier to pay the rent, despite the large difference in price." Following his advice, we rented a nice spacious house for $750.00 a month. However, it was without a lease, and, since the owner was trying to sell it, it was with the condition that if they sell the house, we must move within 30 days. We lived there for 10 months, and each month, miraculously were able to pay the rent. [Just to give you an example of what we mean, that the rent was paid miraculously, the following is one such incident: It was the last day that we had for paying the rent one month, and we saw no way of coming up with the rent. I went out to the mailbox, and there was a letter from a former student who was in the Air Force, stationed in England. I hadn't heard from him for over four years. In the letter, he wrote that he just heard that I had been transferred from Detroit to Alabama and he figured it must be hard for us financially. He therefore, enclosed a small donation of (exactly) $750.00!]
In the beginning of the tenth month, we were given notice that the house had been sold, and we would have to move again. This time we were forced to put all of our household belongings into storage and live in a motel for two weeks before we found another house to rent -- just around the corner, and for a 'mere' $600.00 a month. Since we found the place on the day that I had to drive three of my children to Chicago for school, I didn’t move our household goods in right away. I took out of storage just one mattress, (to put on the floor for my wife,) blankets for my children, a folding table and a half dozen folding chairs. To complete and complement this, Leah purchased a 3-tiered steamer, in which she literally cooked Shabbos from A-Z, with chicken soup below, kugel and veggies above, and ghostly white challah rolls on the highest level. After “comfortably” settling my wife and other children in the rented house, I drove off to Chicago, assuring my wife that as soon as I got back (in about a week) I would move all of our household goods from storage to the house. When I reached Chicago, I was told to return an emergency phone call from my wife. When I called home, I could actually feel my wife’s trembling as she told me that I should forget about moving the furniture into the house. She explained that because the driveway was incredibly steep, when she went to take the kids to school and drove her car to the top of the driveway, she had braked to stop before turning onto the main road, the brakes gave out and the car began rolling backwards down the driveway at a terrifying speed. Had she not turned the car into a tree, (to stop its descent,) the car would have chas v’shalom fallen into a deep ravine. She had no intention of staying in this house and wanted me to immediately find a different house to rent. In order to make sure that I wouldn’t “stretch out” the search for a new place, she wouldn’t let me move our furniture out of storage. It took us 6 months to find another place, during which time the entire family slept on the floor.
Well, it had seemed to us that surely it would be easier to keep up with the $600 a month payments, but it proved not to be the case. From the very first month, we couldn't pay the rent. Three months passed without us being able to pay a penny. The landlord lived in North Carolina, and so far, we had been able to get away with it. Towards the end of the third month of not paying the rent, (it was a month before Chanukah, 5746, and I hadn't yet found a way of making the menorah hydraulic,) I received a call from my landlord's father-in-law. "Raaabaah Lipszyc," drawled the distinctly gruff voice of an Alabama redneck, "Ah'm Andy Scott, the father-in-law of your landlord. You owe mah son-in-law $1,800.00. If you don't have it in mah office by 12 noon today, in cash, ah'll be out there with the sheriff at 2 o'clock, and throw you out in the street." "Mr. Scott," I said, "I can't possibly have it in two hours, give me at least two days." "All raht," he said, "you've got till Friday noon to have the cash in mah office or ah'll be there with the sheriff at 2 o'clock!"
Somehow I just barely managed to get the money together, and get to his office at exactly 2 minutes before 12 noon, on Friday. As I walked into his place of business, it became perfectly clear, why I wasn’t miraculously being supplied with the necessary funds to pay my rent on time, as in the past year. G-d wanted me to meet this man -- for his business was -- selling hydraulic systems! I walked into his office and he looked up at the clock and said, "you sho' like ta play it close, dontcha?" He then spent the next 20 minutes bawling me out, and telling me that it's not the right way to do business. I wholeheartedly agreed with him, apologized, and assured him that I would do my utmost to see that it wouldn't happen again. After, he stopped his tirade, (and I do believe he was totally in the right,) I asked if he had finished, to which he answered that he had. So, I said, "Good, then can we get down to business now?" He was completely perplexed, when he asked, "Business? What business?" "If I'm correct," I said, "you're in the hydraulics business, right?" "Yes," he answered cautiously. So, I explained about all of the giant menorahs being lit around the world, and about our particular problem in Birmingham. I finished by explaining my solution of building the world's first hydraulic menorah. " Raaabaah," he said, "do you know what you're talking about? Just the hydraulic system alone costs $10,000.00, not to mention the rest of the supplies and labor!" With a wave of my hand, I exclaimed, "Mr. Scott, money's no object!" Incredulously he shouted, "Money’s no object?! Raaabaah, you can't even pay $600 rent!" So, I explained, "Mr. Scott, it's no problem because you're the owner of the company, and we'll work something out." Suddenly it dawned on him that I was asking him to donate the hydraulic system. So, he said, " Raaabaah, where am ah supposed to get the money from?" Seeing, that he's now thinking along the lines I wanted, I answered with a mischievous twinkle in my eyes, "well I just gave you $1,800 for starters." " Raaabaah, that's not mah money, that's mah son-in-law's money." With a smile, I said, "Hey, Mr. Scott, I have nothing against your son-in-law, I don't mind if he chips in too." At this point, Mr. Scott gave me a penetrating look and saw that although I was toying with him, I was perfectly serious about needing his help. After further discussion, which included the fact that I needed it in two weeks, he told me he'd see what he could do, and I should call him closer to Chanukah. When I called him back, he agreed to provide the hydraulic system and I should get the welder who built the first menorah, (I then found out that Reuben’s job was actually welding hydraulic machinery!) to build the menorah and put it together.
I had the hydraulic system, and the menorah Reuben Halpern had built. We took all the parts to the shop of Reuben’s friend. That year, the first night of Chanukah was Saturday night. We advertised the main public lighting event to take place on the first night. Reuben agreed to take off work the Thursday before Chanukah in order to put the menorah together and set it up at the Red Mountain Museum. Thursday morning, he called me with bad news. "I'm sorry, rabbi," he said, "My boss just called. His son, who is the only other welder in the shop, just had an accident and can't come in to work. My boss said, I have to come in today or I'll lose my job. I'll try to do it tomorrow." Although I hate those snags, that always just happen to crop up so that the job doesn't get done till the very last minute, as all shluchim know, it's to be expected. In any case, I didn't see any other choice but to wait till Friday. We agreed to meet at the shop on Friday morning at 10:00 o'clock. At 10:15 I got a call, "Sorry rabbi, my boss just called. His son still can't come in and I’d better be there." Now, I was really in trouble! I turned to the owner of the shop, and pleaded with him to do the job. "Sorry rabbi," he said, "I'm on my way out for the day." Having absolutely no other choice, I called Andy Scott again. "Mr. Scott, I need two guys to put this menorah together." " Raaabaah, I don't have any one." "Mr. Scott, I didn't ask if you had anyone. I need two guys, I'm not in the business and wouldn't even begin to know where to look for them; you are in the business -- please get me two guys?" "Where are you Raaabaah? Wait there. I'm sending over two of my guys."
Not to waste time I drew a diagram of how I thought the menorah would have to be put together. Based on the diagram, I saw that we would need some materials. I told the worker that was in the shop, (literally a half-wit, upon whom the owner of the shop had taken pity, and paid him to do odd jobs,) that I was expecting two guys. If they came while I was gone, he should give them the diagram, show them the parts of the menorah, and tell them that I'll be back shortly. I was gone for half an hour. When I got back I waited around for the guys to get there. By this time, it was 1:30 p.m. That Shabbos candle-lighting was at 4:30. Time was running out. I asked the half-wit, "Did two guys come here, by any chance?" "Yes," he answered. "Well where are they," I asked? He shrugged his shoulders and said that they just looked at the plans and the diagram and left. "Didn't you tell them that I would be right back?" He shook his head, indicating that he hadn’t. "Why not?" I asked. "They didn't ask," he said! (Believe me, this conversation was for real!)
I called back Andy Scott and asked where his guys were. "Raaabaah, you weren't there, and they said that the way you want to do it, won't work." "Mr. Scott, I told you I'm not in that field. They can do it any way they want, but please send them back now, it's getting late for Shabbos." "Raaabaah, they don't want to go back." "What do you mean they don't want to go back, you're the boss, you tell them to come back." "Raaabaah, they say it's very heavy and will need at least five people to maneuver and lift it." "Mr. Scott I'll have all the help they need waiting for them, but send them now!" "Okay Raaabaah, but you better be there this time when they come." "I'll be here. And Mr. Scott, thanks a lot. After this, I won't bother you anymore." I tried calling people to get them to come and help, with no success. The two fellows came and said that they couldn't do it according to my diagram. I explained that my interest was to get it done. I didn't care how they did it. At 4:00 p.m. they said "all right, it's ready to be taken to the museum to be put together." They looked around and said, "you said there would be five helpers, where are they?" I pointed to them, as two, myself and the half-wit, and said, "We’re ready." They hadn’t planned on being part of the five, and in any case one of them exclaimed, "but Rabbi, that's only four!" I pointed with my index finger upward, indicating that G-d would be the fifth helper. He gave me a weird look, (as if I were totally crazy,) shrugged his shoulders and said, “ok, we'll try."
G-d did more than His share, because we lifted it onto their flatbed truck, without any problem whatsoever. None of us even felt any weight as we lifted it. Andy Scott’s two workers looked at each other in surprise and said, “I guess he was right, G-d IS helping.” (At the museum, as well, we had no problem getting it from the truck to the spot where we put it up). As we were ready to leave for the museum, I knew already that we would be working right up to the last minute of sunset, and I would have to walk home, (a distance of about 10 miles.) Although, normally, it doesn't get cold in Birmingham, that day a freak cold-front hit, which lasted through Chanukah. So, I called my wife and asked her to drop off some warm clothing at the museum, and told her I'd be home very late, and please ask our Shabbos guests to wait. We got to the museum and put together the menorah, thank G-d, with no trouble at all. I had explained to Andy's workers that we had to stop, no matter what, at 4:48, and that I would have to walk home. At 4:40they said, "Rabbi, we don't need your help anymore, we just have to wire a few things together. It shouldn't take more than 5 minutes, but why wait? We'll take care of it. You jump into your car and get as close to home as you can, before sunset." I did just that, and managed to drive to within 3 miles of home. Knowing that the world's only hydraulic menorah was now operational, I didn't walk the three miles, I literally danced all the way home. Along the way, as I was walking on the dark road, (there were no sidewalks,) in dark clothing, I fell. A large truck was swiftly bearing down on me. The driver couldn't see me, and there was no time to get up, so I rolled off into a gully at the side of the road and the truck’s tires missed me by less than 6 inches. I then got up to continue on. I was on such a cloud that I actually continued dancing all the way home. It wasn't until 3 1/2 hours later when, after our Shabbos guests left, I was going to bed, that I saw that my leg was covered with blood. I was on such a high, I never felt any pain! When my wife walked in and saw my bloody leg, she asked me what had happened. When I told my wife about the incident with the truck, she began to tremble and told me that at one point while waiting for me to arrive she suddenly became afraid for me. She felt that I was in danger. She put up a front of not being concerned, but left the room where she was sitting with our guests, went into the kitchen, picked up a Tehillim, and cried to Hashem to protect me. The timing was just right! During Chanukah the hydraulic Menorah worked beautifully.
In the past years, I had been very careful to take down the Menorah within 48 hours after the holiday, thus avoiding any possible cause for complaints. That year I went the very next day after Chanukah, with 10 helpers, to take down the hydraulic menorah, only to find that the uncommonly bitter weather had caused the oil to freeze. Not being prepared to bother Andy Scott again, every day, for the next ten days, I would get 10 fellows and try to take down the menorah, but alas, to no avail. B”H, that year Chanukah ended 10 days before the non-Jewish holidays. I knew that no matter what, I had to get the Menorah down before then. A week and a half later -- it was the morning of December 24th -- I tried, and failed to get the menorah down once more. I had to rush home, because my wife had a doctor’s appointment at noon. As I drove onto the highway, and saw the towering menorah, I lifted my eyes heavenward and said, "Ribono Shel Olam,” Master of the Universe, ”if that menorah does not come down today, I will never get permission to put it up again!" I continued home, and gave my wife the car to go to the doctor. She left and returned, and when she saw me running out the door, she asked where I was going. I told her my fear, that if I didn't get the menorah down before the X-mas holiday began, I probably wouldn't get permission to put it up in the future. She said to me, "But I thought you took it down this morning?" So, I told her that I had tried but couldn't get it down. "But it is down," she said. "I just drove by there, and it's gone." "Can't be," I replied, "it's less than an hour since I left it, and it was still up. You probably just didn't notice it." I drove back to the museum, and sure enough, the menorah was gone. By this time, it was late afternoon, and I couldn't even ask anyone at the museum, since it closed for the holiday. I was worried that if they took it down themselves, it implied that they were upset with us for leaving it standing for so long after Chanukah.
December 26th, I brought a gift for Dr. Cross. While talking about the Chanukah event, he mentioned that he was happy to see that we finally got the menorah down, because some members of the board had begun to comment about it. He had told them that he saw me trying every day to get it down, but that I seemed to be having a problem. He assured them that I was not neglecting it. Well, now I knew that the museum staff hadn't taken it down, so who had? Furthermore, where was the menorah? Later in the day, I brought two bottles of whiskey to Andy Scott -- one for him, and one for his workers. While I was thanking him for everything he had done and praising his two workers, one of them walked by. He called him into the office, gave him both bottles, and told him that I was praising their work and that they made him very proud. The worker replied, "Yeah, we were driving home from work on the 24th and we saw the menorah was still up, so I turned to my partner and said, ‘Wasn't their holiday over, two weeks back? I’ll bet the Rabbi's having trouble getting it down and that's why it's still up. Hey let's do a good deed before we go home, and take it down for the Rabbi.’" [This had to have happened just as soon as I cried out to G-d for help, because just 20 minutes later, when my wife drove by, the menorah was already down!] This was news to Andy Scott, who turned around and saw the look of relief on my face, and he realized that till then I hadn't known what had happened to the menorah, either. He turned, once again, to his worker and asked, "And what did you do with the menorah?" "Oh, we brought it back here." "And where did you put it," asked Mr. Scott? "We put it in a place where it wouldn't be in the way." Mr. Scott turned to me once more and said, "Raaabaah, it seems that when you try doing something you know nothing about, you just get yourself into trouble. I want to make a deal with you. In the future, you just stay out of this. Once a year, when it's this time of the year, you come by with that big smile of yours and say, 'it's time,' and we'll put up the menorah and then we'll take it down and store it. You just please stay out of making trouble!" My response? "Mr. Scott, you've got a deal!" [A side note: Think of the power of belief – these two non-Jewish workers, who just a couple of weeks earlier knew that it would take five people to carry this menorah, now had no doubt that with G-d’s help, they could do it themselves!]
True to his word, when I showed up the next year, before Chanukah, he said he would take care of it. However, he wanted permission to make two changes: First of all, (I had given him, as a gift,) the first Chanukah book that Chabad had put out, showing the menorahs from all over the world. He wanted to make a new one that would be nicer than the others. And secondly, in order that the menorah should telescope up and down, without worrying about the oil of the hydraulic system freezing, he wanted to switch from a hydraulic to an electric telescopic menorah. [The menorah itself burned kerosene and was not electric, just the telescopic control was electric]. I, of course, agreed to both changes, and he took care of it all. He even painted the menorah gold.
Just one more detail remains to be told in this continuing saga of Divine Providence. One month before Chanukah 5748, (two years after the above story,) without any forewarning, Dr. Cross sent me a letter informing me that, due to the menorah controversy, started by the Jewish establishment, (which had been ongoing for the past five years, yet the board still gave its permission annually,) the board would rather not get involved this year, and thus would not allow me to put up the menorah on museum property, for the Chanukah holiday. I tried every way I could, to get them to change their minds, but was not successful. However, at the same time I found an even more visible spot, on an overpass of the highway. This in fact would give the impression that one was driving right up to the Menorah and then suddenly the highway dipped under the menorah. I met with the mayor knowing that it was unlikely that he would agree, since it was a controversial issue that no smart politician would care to get involved in. Sure enough, he “passed the buck” by sending me to the city attorney. When I presented my request to the city attorney he argued that it was unconstitutional because of separation of church and state. I said that the Supreme Court already ruled that it was perfectly legal. The attorney replied that he knows about that ruling, and disagreed with it. To which I responded, “Perhaps you are right, and when you become a judge on the bench of the Supreme Court, you may even be able to overturn that ruling, but right now that is the law of the land, and as the city attorney you must uphold that law!” He looked at me, somewhat surprised, and said “rabbi, you should have been a lawyer.” I smiled and said “That’s exactly what rabbis are. We deal with Jewish law all the time.” The city attorney then told me that since the highway was a state highway; both the city and state had to give permission. He continued, “If the state isn’t against it, neither am I.” The permission had to come from the governor's office. This was now Kislev 24, erev (the eve of) Chanukah, so I immediately called the governor’s aide and explained that I needed the governor’s permission. [Fortuitously, I had personally met the governor and his aide that past summer.] The aide told me to call back in a half hour. When I called back he said, “The governor told me that this issue in Birmingham is a ‘hot potato’ and we can’t get involved. However, tell the rabbi that if he would just put it up, we would not have anything against it. And if any authority tells him that he has to take it down, by law, they have to give him 10 days to do so.” Mr. Scott had been aware of the whole controversy and wanted to see me win, so he had told me a few weeks earlier, “Raaabaah here’s mah private number, anytime, day or night, when you get permission, call me and I promise I will have it up anywhere in the city within 20 minutes.” And we got it up just in time for the first night of Chanukah. In the interim, the Jewish establishment had spread the word, throughout the city, that they had finally succeeded in stopping the erection of the menorah. Imagine their embarrassment and chagrin when driving home the first eve of Chanukah, there was the menorah facing them, in all of its glory, on the overpass.
It was on the fifth night of Chanukah that we witnessed the last segment of this wondrous Chanukah miracle. The original design of this unique telescopic menorah was made on the premise that by bolting it to a free-standing wall, on the museum property, it would hold up despite its being top heavy. Of course, now that the menorah was standing on the ground instead, it was re-designed with a weighted base. The night before, after the fifth Chanukah lighting, there was a freak wind of hurricane strength. The next morning Mr. Scott called me and, in a clearly trembling voice, said that now he saw openly just how much G-d watches over me. He said that he had never told me that he couldn't sleep well during Chanukah, because he felt that the wall, to which the menorah was bolted, was not strong enough to hold up the menorah. Given one strong wind and one top heavy menorah, the wall and menorah could easily have toppled over onto the highway, causing untold damage and probably even deaths. "Raaabaah," he said, "had the museum not denied you this year, forcing you to move it elsewhere, with last night’s hurricane wind, I promise you, the menorah and the wall would have toppled over onto the highway, causing damage and deaths and you would have had one hell of a law suit on your head!"
Dedicated in honor of Yud Tes Kislev, Rosh Hashana LiChasidus
In honor of Chanukah we are printing an amazing story, once again out of chronological order. This story took place while we were living in Birmingham, Alabama. It is a very long story and thus will break it up into two parts.
The Most Miraculous and Unique Menorah
In order to fully appreciate the miracles and hashgacha Elyona involved, I need to preface the story with a description of the layout of the city, the general attitude of the Jewish establishment in Birmingham, and their feelings towards any changes in their community. Alabama of course is a southern state. In fact during the Civil War, Montgomery, Alabama was the capitol of the Confederacy. The south has always been known for its “southern hospitality.” What isn’t known, however, is that the hospitality consists of “how can we assist in helping you to move on to somewhere else?” They were not particularly welcoming of “outsiders” actually moving in to live there.
The day before Yud-Alef Nissan, 5742, we received our new shlichus from the Rebbe, to open Chabad in the state of Alabama. A lot of ground work still had to be done before we would actually be moving there, but just to start something in honor of the Rebbe's birthday, I immediately flew down to Birmingham and distributed shmura matzah for Pesach. I then traveled back and forth (between Michigan, my place of shlichus until then, and Birmingham,) meeting with members of the Jewish community and trying to prepare the city for my family’s move. Before Rosh Hashana, we sent out eleven hundred specially prepared calendars, with little packets of honey attached, to wish all the members of Hadassah in Birmingham a sweet and happy New Year. However, we didn't actually move to Birmingham until Rosh Chodesh Kislev, 5743 (November, 1982.)
To appreciate the amazing and ongoing hashgacha protis connected with the following story, we have broken up the story by years, as it actually happened, while inserting the different surrounding scenarios, either as they were taking place or where the continuance of the story necessitates it.
Birmingham, Alabama is a beautiful city set between mountains. It is surrounded by hilly suburbs, which are connected by modern highways. Mountain Brook is an exclusive, wealthy suburb, where ninety-five percent of the Jews of Birmingham resided. This particular suburb is connected to Birmingham via the Red Mountain Expressway, a road which is very unique in the way it was built. A passageway was blasted through the middle of the mountain, and the highway was built through it. While excavating, it was discovered that the mountain was filled with a unique, rich red ore. They also found imbedded in the mountain some bones from a “prehistoric” animal, as well as some other interesting items. The city therefore built a small, three room museum to house these “finds” atop the mountain, overlooking the highway. The highway was named the Red Mountain Expressway, and the museum, the Red Mountain Museum. Almost every Jew, living in and around Birmingham, travels this strip of highway at least twice a day, going to the city and returning, a trip of about 20 minutes.
My family first moved to Birmingham Rosh Chodesh Kislev 5743, and 6 days later (vov Kislev) I made my first public event (my oldest daughter’s bas mitzvah and my 2nd son’s upsherinish.) Also, I still didn’t know the city. So I didn’t even think about a public Menorah lighting that year. The following year, on Kislev 14, 5744 (the Rebbe & Rebbetzin’s anniversary) I was driving on the Red Mountain Expressway, past the museum. Just as each other time I passed the site, I was daydreaming of that day, in the distant future, when I would be able to put up a beautiful menorah, right on that perfect spot, overlooking the city. That it never even entered my mind to try for the upcoming Chanukah, was based on very down-to-earth thinking: 1. Over the past year it had become all too painfully clear that the Birmingham Jewish Establishment was not very keen on having a Chabad presence in town, at all. Therefore, how could I possibly get the support and clout needed for such an undertaking? 2. Even where Chabad is already accepted, and even respected, a Chanukah menorah on public property is fraught with controversy. In those years, even strong supporters of Chabad regarding other projects, took strong stands against putting up a Menorah on public property. The Rebbe's stand was to fight till the end, the establishment's notion that separation of church and state negates a menorah on public property. However, I was told that it only applied when the shluchim were already trying to put up a menorah, and were meeting with opposition. The Rebbe didn't necessarily mean that we had to go out “looking for trouble.” 3. I assumed that to put up a decent menorah would probably cost a minimum of five thousand dollars, and I was struggling to come up with a mere two hundred dollars for the weekly food shopping! 4. The eleven days remaining till Chanukah would certainly be too short of a notice to arrange for such an undertaking. Suddenly, a little voice in my head said "Ha! And you call yourself a shliach? So what, if they stop you from putting up a menorah, at least you have to try!"
When I got home, sure that it was a waste of time, I lackadaisically phoned the Red Mountain Museum and asked to speak to the director, Dr. Whitman Cross, the third. I explained that I was a new rabbi in town, and would like to meet with him the next day. He agreed. At the meeting, I told him about Chabad Lubavitch, and how we put up 30 foot Chanukah menorahs all over the world, including in front of the White House. I showed him pictures and some very positive articles, explaining that we would like to do the same at the museum, making a grand public menorah lighting. I was so sure that his response would be no, or not this year, that I wasn't at all worried about where would I get the money, if he should answer yes. "I think that's a great idea, rabbi," he said, "but, obviously, I must first take it up with the museum's board of directors, which meets once a month." “Okay,” I was thinking, “perhaps next year.” "And you're in luck," he continued, "the meeting is tonight, and as the director, I can add proposals not already on the agenda. Since I know Chanukah is very soon, I will bring it up tonight. Give me a call tomorrow morning, and I'll give you the answer." I still wasn’t worried about the money; because I was sure there must be at least one Jewish member of the establishment on the board, who would nix the idea.
That night my wife went into labor with our eighth child, k”ah. When we arrived at the emergency room, there was an orderly standing there, who seemed to ignore us, continuing to do what he was doing. My wife told him she was in labor, but elicited no reaction! After a bit more of a wait, she then sarcastically said, "that's okay, take your time, it's my eighth child." He took off at such a speed that he must have broken a world’s record for sure. Unfortunately, my wife paid for that sarcasm. They got her into a room faster than I've ever seen, but she ended up having seventeen hours of labor. The set up in that hospital, for natural childbirth, (in those years it was still a novelty especially in Birmingham,) was a private room that looked like a fancy hotel room with all the conveniences, including a brass bed, armoire (which hid the medical backup equipment,) telephone, table, chairs, couch etc. They also provided a specially delegated nurse to constantly be with the patient until the actual birth. In my wife’s case, there were two nurses, a Jewish nurse, who was also training a non-Jewish one, who was there as a first timer in the birthing room. Being an “old hand” at this, and knowing that she generally had everything under control, during her long labors, my wife continued working with me on our plans for the upcoming Chanukah programs right up to the moment of birth, stopping only during the expected contractions. The nurses couldn't get over how we were continuing on with our work, as if having a baby was an everyday occurrence.
In the morning, I called Dr. Cross, from the birthing room, for the board's response. "Rabbi Lipszyc," he said, "I've got good news for you! The board gave the approval for you to put up the menorah." Dr. Cross then continued, "I'm sorry that I personally am going to miss it because I'm leaving next week on a three week trip to Israel. I am not going to be back until after Chanukah. My chief maintenance man is now on vacation and won't be back until after I leave. Therefore, I'm going to leave him a directive that I am putting you totally in charge of the project. Wherever, and however, you want to do it, he is to help you with whatever you need. I'll see you when I get back."
It wasn't until I’d hung up the phone and passed on the news to my wife, that it suddenly struck me -- I had one major problem on my hands. Where in earth would I come up with a 30 foot menorah? Much to the amusement of the nurses, at this point I felt the situation warranted my getting up and pacing (which I hadn’t done previously.) My wife and I then went through the entire list of people with whom we had made contact throughout the past year, to see if there was anyone we could turn to for help. As we went through our total list of friends and contacts, we realized that all of them were professionals -- either doctors, professors, or lawyers. I felt that I couldn’t approach any of them, for professionals tend to be somewhat "liberal" -- the type that crusade not for, but against menorahs on public property. There was however, one Israeli fellow on the list whom I had no inkling as to what his occupation was, so I called him. "Reuben," I asked, "what do you do for a living?" "I'm a welder," he answered. "Wow, perfect, just what I'm looking for!" I exclaimed. I then proceeded to tell him about the permission that we’d received to put up a 30-foot menorah, at the Red Mountain Museum, and that I needed him to build it. "When do you need it rabbi?" he asked. "For the first night of Chanukah -- in eight days," I replied. "Eight days!?!" he exclaimed. "Well I guess, if I do it at my work place where I'll have all the necessary materials and tools, and I come in early, leave late, use my lunch break, and maybe even get some of my fellow workers to help me… I guess I can do it, Rabbi." Now I had to deal with the delicate part, how to let him know that I can't afford to pay him for the work. I decided to hint to him that I wasn’t able to pay. "Great," I said, "and of course I'll pay for whatever materials you need," clearly indicating that I wouldn’t be able to pay for labor. I had absolutely no clue as to where I would get the money for the materials, but I trusted Hashem would help somehow. "No need to do that rabbi," Reuben assured me, "we have a deal with my boss that whoever wants to work on private hobbies here, can use his materials free of charge. Although, my co-workers have made use of this fringe benefit in the past, I personally have never taken advantage of it. I might as well make use of it for this." He built the menorah for us on time, and our only cost was for nine K-Mart hurricane lanterns and a gallon of kerosene. A grand total of $21 and change.
The day we put up the menorah was really exciting. In the morning, was the bris of my son Dovid Aharon, (tonight’s choson,) and straight from there we ran to put up the menorah. Although the chief maintenance man did everything he was told, it was obvious that he was quite upset about it. Finally, I asked him what was bothering him and he told me that aside from being on the board of the museum and volunteering his services as the one in charge of maintenance, on Sundays he preached as a Baptist minister. (In general Baptists are anti-Semitic.) "You were lucky that Dr. Cross brought up this project while I was on vacation," he explained. "If I was there I would have made sure it never passed!" I responded to him that probably it wasn't just luck; “Someone” 'upstairs' was watching and helping us! In the evening, the public lighting of the menorah at the Red Mountain Museum, was really beautiful and successful and brought much Jewish pride to the general Jewish populace.
The next day, the museum received a number of calls, from the, ahem, "upstanding" members of the Jewish Establishment. "Who authorized the placement of a menorah on museum property?!?" (It seems they knew that Chabad put it up, for the question was not who put it up, but rather who authorized it). "Dr. Cross himself," was the reply. "We would like to speak to him." "Sorry he is out of town." "When will he be back?" "Not for another two weeks." “Who else can authorize removing the menorah?” “Only he can,” was the reply. Much to their chagrin, the menorah would obviously remain "As a light unto the... Red Mountain Expressway" for the duration of Chanukah.
The only mishap was when we brought in the cherry picker" to light the menorah. In order to get it to the spot where it would be able to lift the person who had to light the menorah, the truck had to drive onto the grass, where it did some damage. The heavy truck ripped up the grass and broke the underground sprinkler system. I knew that it was my responsibility to fix it and I was worried about how to get it done right away and how much would it cost? Again, Hashem to the rescue. After the menorah lighting, as I was driving away from the museum, I noticed a landscaping truck driving towards me. I quickly waved it down and asked who the owner was. “I am,” replied the driver. I asked if he happened to be Jewish and received an affirmative response. I then explained about the menorah that we had put up overlooking the expressway, to which he replied that indeed he had seen it and was in fact trying to locate it, to see it up close. I explained to him that I need to fix the damage to the grass, and he asked me to take him there so he could see it. I showed it to him and he agreed to fix it right away for just his cost ($200,) and as he promised, he fixed it the day after Chanukah.
When Dr. Cross returned from Israel, he wrote me a letter in which he said that he was pleased to hear that the menorah project went well and that he was sorry he had missed it. He further wrote that he would like to treat me to a lunch in a local restaurant, and that he wanted to discuss a few matters with me: Firstly, his personal experiences and feelings while traveling through Israel, and secondly, he wanted to understand, what exactly is Chabad’s standing in the Jewish community? (I understood that obviously, the complaints from the Jewish establishment were already coming in.) However, I was pleasantly surprised with the ending of the letter: "...and I am looking forward to joining you next year for the 2nd annual lighting of the menorah," indicating that he was not yet ruling out further involvement with the menorah project.
When dealing with non-Jews, I always found it helpful to bring a gift of mashke. I stopped in next day, to bring him a bottle of scotch, as a token of our appreciation, [I also gave one to the Baptist minister/maintenance man, making him a friend.] Dr. Cross told me that he doesn’t drink, so not knowing that I had already given a bottle to the maintenance man, he gave him his bottle as well. (I was now best buddies with the maintenance man). I then said to Dr. Cross, "I owe you a lunch." He responded by saying that on the contrary, he wanted to treat. But I convinced him that I should be treating, since he doesn't even know where the kosher establishments are, and therefore, he has to be my guest. When he agreed, I gave him my home address, (as there was no kosher restaurant in Alabama,) and set a time and date, later that week. I then went home and asked my wife to prepare for the luncheon date and that she should set up a fancy lunch as if we were in fact in a fancy restaurant. (My compliments to the chef, she did a superb job)!
It was 12:00 noon, on the day of the lunch, and I was rushing home from a late morning appointment. When I turned on the radio in the car to hear the main news of the day, the breaking story of the hour was that the Supreme Court of the United States, five minutes earlier, had just given out their ruling regarding the placing of menorahs on public property. The decision was that it is legal, and cannot be regarded as a breach of the constitutional law of separation of church and state. Dr. Cross and I both arrived at our home simultaneously, and we sat down to lunch. While waiting to be served, (we wanted him to have a total feeling of being in a restaurant,) he told me of his impressions and experiences in Israel, all very positive. He then explained why he wanted this meeting. "You know Rabbi, when I returned from Israel; I received a call from Rabbi Grafman." [As rabbi emeritus of the Reform temple in Birmingham, he was a much respected man in town]. "He said that I, (Dr. Cross,) did a “no-no” by allowing the menorah to be erected on public property; it's a breach of separation of church and state." I replied, "I hope Rabbi Grafman knows Jewish law better than he seems to know American law, since the Supreme Court of the United States does not agree with him. Just twenty minutes ago, the Supreme Court ruled that the menorah may be placed on public property and cannot be deemed a breach of separation of church and state." Dr. Cross was obviously pleased that there was such clear ruling in our favor, but he seemed to be even more impressed, that I was so up to date on what's happening in Washington, that I knew of a Supreme Court ruling of just twenty minutes earlier. Several times during the meal he made mention of that fact. He was convinced that I had strong connections in Washington, and that’s how I knew. I can’t explain how he never realized that I just, “happened” to have heard it on the news. Dr. Cross then went on to commend me. He told me that upon his return from Israel, the maintenance man, (who had been upset,) had complained to him that we’d damaged the property. Dr. Cross asked him to show him where the damage was. Of course, by then it had already been fixed. Dr. Cross remarked that he didn’t see any damage, to which the maintenance man explained that I had had it fixed. Dr. Cross pointed out to him that he wishes that everyone he dealt with would be so conscientious. In most cases when damage is done he has to chase after those who did the damage, and until they fixed it, he would have tremendous heartache. He remarked that what most impressed him was that it wasn't even necessary, on their part, to bring it to our attention! He finished with the words, “a guy like you I enjoy doing business with any day of the week.” When leaving, he once again reiterated, what he had already written in his letter, that he was looking forward to the following year's lighting of the menorah. I thus knew that I could rest easy on the subject of having the menorah lighting at the Red Mountain Museum in years to come.
[I hadn’t previously considered the following saga as part and parcel of this amazing story of the Chanukah public Menorah lighting in Birmingham. Thus I hadn’t told it as part of this story, but rather as a separate incident. However, as I was preparing this complete story in writing, I realized it is definitely connected and part of the wondrous hashgacha protis taking place.
One of the most respected members of the Jewish establishment was the primary partner in one of the most prestigious law firms in the state. Of all the establishment leaders, he was the only one who showed us warmth and kindness. I would meet with him every Friday at 8:30 a.m. We would learn something about the weekly parsha. Although I viewed him as sincere, my wife, who has an uncanny 6th sense, always warned me not to trust him, as he may be acting friendly just so that he can feed our detractors info that would eventually harm us. One day, he told me that he had an idea. He felt that the reason the Jewish establishment was so against me, was because they didn’t understand what Chabad is all about and what we hope to accomplish in Birmingham. He therefore proposed that he would open up his firm’s conference room for a luncheon and invite the important members of the Jewish establishment. He continued that I should bring someone important from headquarters in New York to speak and thereby create an open forum of communication. Believing that this was a great opportunity I agreed, but explained that we would have to prepare the complete luncheon, since it would have to be kosher. He agreed, expecting me simply bring along some sandwiches. I said we would have to plan an appropriate date, and I would get back to him. Enter, hashgocha protis: a day or two later, I got a surprise call from Rabbi Avrohom Shemtov, of Philadelphia. He told me that one of the Philadelphia baalei baatim, with whom he is acquainted, was now sitting in Maxwell Air Force Prison Camp. He would like for me to go visit him. I made arrangements with the prison authorities to do so. (This was an opening for me to eventually become the official contract rabbi in that Federal Prison Camp.) When I told him that I came on behalf of a request by Rabbi Shemtov, he told me that he was surprised and hurt that Rabbi Shemtov himself hadn’t come visit. When I spoke to him, Rabbi Shemtov asked that if he came, would I be able to pick him up at the airport, take him to the prison and return with him to the airport. “With pleasure,” I replied. It then struck me, “whoa, would you be able to be the man from headquarters to speak at this luncheon that we are planning?” He agreed and therefore I was able to move forward with the lawyer about our plans for a luncheon. My wife put together a fancy luncheon, the likes of which no one in Birmingham had heretofore seen. This showed everyone that you can be kosher and classy. I had no idea that I was being set up by the establishment for an ambush against me, telling our “man from headquarters” how I am violating the Jewish community’s code of ethics regarding the public Menorah. The beauty of it, was none of us had planned for it, But Rabbi Shemtov happened to be the most knowledgeable advocate for public Menorah lightings, since he was the one who worked closely with our lawyers, who succeeded in getting the Supreme Court ruling. So, try as they did to put me down, Rabbi Shemtov showed them very clearly that they were in the wrong. At one point, Rabbi Shemtov stood up and said to the lawyer who organized this ambush: “Mr. A. -- you and I both know this is not about a 30-foot Menorah overlooking the Red Mountain Expressway, this is about a 30-foot Rabbi Lipszyc overlooking the city of Birmingham!”]
The next year, Chanukah 5745, when I approached Dr. Cross for permission to once again have a public menorah lighting, he readily agreed. However, he requested that we move the place to the parking lot, so the cherry-picker could access it without damaging the property, as it had the year before. He explained, that true we’d fixed it immediately, but it really didn’t make sense that we should purposely do damage, even if it will be fixed afterwards. I couldn’t really argue with his logic, so, although I was not happy, I had no choice but to agree. Why was I not happy with the alternate space provided? The place I had initially chosen was in such a position that everyone on the highway couldn’t possibly miss it. Even if a driver was looking straight ahead on the highway, out of the corner of his eye he or she would pick up that something was there and would be “forced” to turn their heads to see the menorah. Although the menorah on the parking lot was still visible from the highway, it was noticeable only when the traveler knew to look up. It was not as prominent as the year before. I, therefore, realized that the following year I would have to find a way of getting the menorah back to the original spot. Necessity being the mother of invention, that's when I had the inspiration to make our 30-foot menorah, hydraulic, thus eliminating the need for a cherry-picker. With the push of a button, the menorah would “magically” descend low enough so that we could light it from the ground, and then, with another push of a button, it would extend up to 30 feet in the air. With this in mind I began to keep my eyes open for a hydraulic system, for the coming year.
To appreciate the next stage in this phenomenal saga of continuous Divine Providence, I must turn back the clock to another incident that took place around the High Holidays of 5744. When we first moved to Birmingham, we rented a three-bedroom apartment with a one year lease. Our lease ran out on Hoshana Raba, 5744. In Elul 5743 we received a letter from our landlord telling us they are not going to renew our lease. When I called him (a fellow Jew) and asked what the problem was, he spewed forth pure hatred. What I gathered from talking to him was that members from the Jewish establishment wanted us out of the community and they told him that if he wouldn’t rent to us, we wouldn’t have where to live and would be forced to move out of Birmingham. I asked him to please give me an extension of three months since Elul and Tishrei were my busiest months and I wouldn’t have time to look for another place, let alone pack and move. Very nastily he replied, “not even one day!” I then called HUD in Montgomery, Alabama and asked if they could help me get an extension. After a couple of hours, the director called me back and told me that she had spoken to the landlord and he was so nasty that she threatened him that she would personally come down to investigate his books, since she suspected this might be an act of racism. He grudgingly agreed to a one month extension. After Simchas Torah we began searching for alternative housing, but we ran into a brick wall. Our rent for the apartment was $265.00 a month. Fundraising during that year hadn’t gone too well, due to the difficulty of winning acceptance into the community, and we had just barely managed to keep up with this nominal rent. Having seven children, bli ayin hora, no other apartments were willing to rent to us. (The no children, no pets rule was very much in effect in Birmingham.) To rent a house, would cost us about $1,000 a month, which obviously seemed way beyond our means. In the Elul which had just passed, the Rebbe had spoken very sharply that even l’chatchilla ariber had to be in Olam Hatikun. When I discussed this problem with the secretary of the Rebbe, Rabbi Hodakow a”h, his response was, "Not necessarily so. Sometimes by investing in a larger house, you draw more support, and thus would find it easier to pay the rent, despite the large difference in price." Following his advice, we rented a nice spacious house for $750.00 a month. However, it was without a lease, and, since the owner was trying to sell it, it was with the condition that if they sell the house, we must move within 30 days. We lived there for 10 months, and each month, miraculously were able to pay the rent. [Just to give you an example of what we mean, that the rent was paid miraculously, the following is one such incident: It was the last day that we had for paying the rent one month, and we saw no way of coming up with the rent. I went out to the mailbox, and there was a letter from a former student who was in the Air Force, stationed in England. I hadn't heard from him for over four years. In the letter, he wrote that he just heard that I had been transferred from Detroit to Alabama and he figured it must be hard for us financially. He therefore, enclosed a small donation of (exactly) $750.00!]
In the beginning of the tenth month, we were given notice that the house had been sold, and we would have to move again. This time we were forced to put all of our household belongings into storage and live in a motel for two weeks before we found another house to rent -- just around the corner, and for a 'mere' $600.00 a month. Since we found the place on the day that I had to drive three of my children to Chicago for school, I didn’t move our household goods in right away. I took out of storage just one mattress, (to put on the floor for my wife,) blankets for my children, a folding table and a half dozen folding chairs. To complete and complement this, Leah purchased a 3-tiered steamer, in which she literally cooked Shabbos from A-Z, with chicken soup below, kugel and veggies above, and ghostly white challah rolls on the highest level. After “comfortably” settling my wife and other children in the rented house, I drove off to Chicago, assuring my wife that as soon as I got back (in about a week) I would move all of our household goods from storage to the house. When I reached Chicago, I was told to return an emergency phone call from my wife. When I called home, I could actually feel my wife’s trembling as she told me that I should forget about moving the furniture into the house. She explained that because the driveway was incredibly steep, when she went to take the kids to school and drove her car to the top of the driveway, she had braked to stop before turning onto the main road, the brakes gave out and the car began rolling backwards down the driveway at a terrifying speed. Had she not turned the car into a tree, (to stop its descent,) the car would have chas v’shalom fallen into a deep ravine. She had no intention of staying in this house and wanted me to immediately find a different house to rent. In order to make sure that I wouldn’t “stretch out” the search for a new place, she wouldn’t let me move our furniture out of storage. It took us 6 months to find another place, during which time the entire family slept on the floor.
Well, it had seemed to us that surely it would be easier to keep up with the $600 a month payments, but it proved not to be the case. From the very first month, we couldn't pay the rent. Three months passed without us being able to pay a penny. The landlord lived in North Carolina, and so far, we had been able to get away with it. Towards the end of the third month of not paying the rent, (it was a month before Chanukah, 5746, and I hadn't yet found a way of making the menorah hydraulic,) I received a call from my landlord's father-in-law. "Raaabaah Lipszyc," drawled the distinctly gruff voice of an Alabama redneck, "Ah'm Andy Scott, the father-in-law of your landlord. You owe mah son-in-law $1,800.00. If you don't have it in mah office by 12 noon today, in cash, ah'll be out there with the sheriff at 2 o'clock, and throw you out in the street." "Mr. Scott," I said, "I can't possibly have it in two hours, give me at least two days." "All raht," he said, "you've got till Friday noon to have the cash in mah office or ah'll be there with the sheriff at 2 o'clock!"
Somehow I just barely managed to get the money together, and get to his office at exactly 2 minutes before 12 noon, on Friday. As I walked into his place of business, it became perfectly clear, why I wasn’t miraculously being supplied with the necessary funds to pay my rent on time, as in the past year. G-d wanted me to meet this man -- for his business was -- selling hydraulic systems! I walked into his office and he looked up at the clock and said, "you sho' like ta play it close, dontcha?" He then spent the next 20 minutes bawling me out, and telling me that it's not the right way to do business. I wholeheartedly agreed with him, apologized, and assured him that I would do my utmost to see that it wouldn't happen again. After, he stopped his tirade, (and I do believe he was totally in the right,) I asked if he had finished, to which he answered that he had. So, I said, "Good, then can we get down to business now?" He was completely perplexed, when he asked, "Business? What business?" "If I'm correct," I said, "you're in the hydraulics business, right?" "Yes," he answered cautiously. So, I explained about all of the giant menorahs being lit around the world, and about our particular problem in Birmingham. I finished by explaining my solution of building the world's first hydraulic menorah. " Raaabaah," he said, "do you know what you're talking about? Just the hydraulic system alone costs $10,000.00, not to mention the rest of the supplies and labor!" With a wave of my hand, I exclaimed, "Mr. Scott, money's no object!" Incredulously he shouted, "Money’s no object?! Raaabaah, you can't even pay $600 rent!" So, I explained, "Mr. Scott, it's no problem because you're the owner of the company, and we'll work something out." Suddenly it dawned on him that I was asking him to donate the hydraulic system. So, he said, " Raaabaah, where am ah supposed to get the money from?" Seeing, that he's now thinking along the lines I wanted, I answered with a mischievous twinkle in my eyes, "well I just gave you $1,800 for starters." " Raaabaah, that's not mah money, that's mah son-in-law's money." With a smile, I said, "Hey, Mr. Scott, I have nothing against your son-in-law, I don't mind if he chips in too." At this point, Mr. Scott gave me a penetrating look and saw that although I was toying with him, I was perfectly serious about needing his help. After further discussion, which included the fact that I needed it in two weeks, he told me he'd see what he could do, and I should call him closer to Chanukah. When I called him back, he agreed to provide the hydraulic system and I should get the welder who built the first menorah, (I then found out that Reuben’s job was actually welding hydraulic machinery!) to build the menorah and put it together.
I had the hydraulic system, and the menorah Reuben Halpern had built. We took all the parts to the shop of Reuben’s friend. That year, the first night of Chanukah was Saturday night. We advertised the main public lighting event to take place on the first night. Reuben agreed to take off work the Thursday before Chanukah in order to put the menorah together and set it up at the Red Mountain Museum. Thursday morning, he called me with bad news. "I'm sorry, rabbi," he said, "My boss just called. His son, who is the only other welder in the shop, just had an accident and can't come in to work. My boss said, I have to come in today or I'll lose my job. I'll try to do it tomorrow." Although I hate those snags, that always just happen to crop up so that the job doesn't get done till the very last minute, as all shluchim know, it's to be expected. In any case, I didn't see any other choice but to wait till Friday. We agreed to meet at the shop on Friday morning at 10:00 o'clock. At 10:15 I got a call, "Sorry rabbi, my boss just called. His son still can't come in and I’d better be there." Now, I was really in trouble! I turned to the owner of the shop, and pleaded with him to do the job. "Sorry rabbi," he said, "I'm on my way out for the day." Having absolutely no other choice, I called Andy Scott again. "Mr. Scott, I need two guys to put this menorah together." " Raaabaah, I don't have any one." "Mr. Scott, I didn't ask if you had anyone. I need two guys, I'm not in the business and wouldn't even begin to know where to look for them; you are in the business -- please get me two guys?" "Where are you Raaabaah? Wait there. I'm sending over two of my guys."
Not to waste time I drew a diagram of how I thought the menorah would have to be put together. Based on the diagram, I saw that we would need some materials. I told the worker that was in the shop, (literally a half-wit, upon whom the owner of the shop had taken pity, and paid him to do odd jobs,) that I was expecting two guys. If they came while I was gone, he should give them the diagram, show them the parts of the menorah, and tell them that I'll be back shortly. I was gone for half an hour. When I got back I waited around for the guys to get there. By this time, it was 1:30 p.m. That Shabbos candle-lighting was at 4:30. Time was running out. I asked the half-wit, "Did two guys come here, by any chance?" "Yes," he answered. "Well where are they," I asked? He shrugged his shoulders and said that they just looked at the plans and the diagram and left. "Didn't you tell them that I would be right back?" He shook his head, indicating that he hadn’t. "Why not?" I asked. "They didn't ask," he said! (Believe me, this conversation was for real!)
I called back Andy Scott and asked where his guys were. "Raaabaah, you weren't there, and they said that the way you want to do it, won't work." "Mr. Scott, I told you I'm not in that field. They can do it any way they want, but please send them back now, it's getting late for Shabbos." "Raaabaah, they don't want to go back." "What do you mean they don't want to go back, you're the boss, you tell them to come back." "Raaabaah, they say it's very heavy and will need at least five people to maneuver and lift it." "Mr. Scott I'll have all the help they need waiting for them, but send them now!" "Okay Raaabaah, but you better be there this time when they come." "I'll be here. And Mr. Scott, thanks a lot. After this, I won't bother you anymore." I tried calling people to get them to come and help, with no success. The two fellows came and said that they couldn't do it according to my diagram. I explained that my interest was to get it done. I didn't care how they did it. At 4:00 p.m. they said "all right, it's ready to be taken to the museum to be put together." They looked around and said, "you said there would be five helpers, where are they?" I pointed to them, as two, myself and the half-wit, and said, "We’re ready." They hadn’t planned on being part of the five, and in any case one of them exclaimed, "but Rabbi, that's only four!" I pointed with my index finger upward, indicating that G-d would be the fifth helper. He gave me a weird look, (as if I were totally crazy,) shrugged his shoulders and said, “ok, we'll try."
G-d did more than His share, because we lifted it onto their flatbed truck, without any problem whatsoever. None of us even felt any weight as we lifted it. Andy Scott’s two workers looked at each other in surprise and said, “I guess he was right, G-d IS helping.” (At the museum, as well, we had no problem getting it from the truck to the spot where we put it up). As we were ready to leave for the museum, I knew already that we would be working right up to the last minute of sunset, and I would have to walk home, (a distance of about 10 miles.) Although, normally, it doesn't get cold in Birmingham, that day a freak cold-front hit, which lasted through Chanukah. So, I called my wife and asked her to drop off some warm clothing at the museum, and told her I'd be home very late, and please ask our Shabbos guests to wait. We got to the museum and put together the menorah, thank G-d, with no trouble at all. I had explained to Andy's workers that we had to stop, no matter what, at 4:48, and that I would have to walk home. At 4:40they said, "Rabbi, we don't need your help anymore, we just have to wire a few things together. It shouldn't take more than 5 minutes, but why wait? We'll take care of it. You jump into your car and get as close to home as you can, before sunset." I did just that, and managed to drive to within 3 miles of home. Knowing that the world's only hydraulic menorah was now operational, I didn't walk the three miles, I literally danced all the way home. Along the way, as I was walking on the dark road, (there were no sidewalks,) in dark clothing, I fell. A large truck was swiftly bearing down on me. The driver couldn't see me, and there was no time to get up, so I rolled off into a gully at the side of the road and the truck’s tires missed me by less than 6 inches. I then got up to continue on. I was on such a cloud that I actually continued dancing all the way home. It wasn't until 3 1/2 hours later when, after our Shabbos guests left, I was going to bed, that I saw that my leg was covered with blood. I was on such a high, I never felt any pain! When my wife walked in and saw my bloody leg, she asked me what had happened. When I told my wife about the incident with the truck, she began to tremble and told me that at one point while waiting for me to arrive she suddenly became afraid for me. She felt that I was in danger. She put up a front of not being concerned, but left the room where she was sitting with our guests, went into the kitchen, picked up a Tehillim, and cried to Hashem to protect me. The timing was just right! During Chanukah the hydraulic Menorah worked beautifully.
In the past years, I had been very careful to take down the Menorah within 48 hours after the holiday, thus avoiding any possible cause for complaints. That year I went the very next day after Chanukah, with 10 helpers, to take down the hydraulic menorah, only to find that the uncommonly bitter weather had caused the oil to freeze. Not being prepared to bother Andy Scott again, every day, for the next ten days, I would get 10 fellows and try to take down the menorah, but alas, to no avail. B”H, that year Chanukah ended 10 days before the non-Jewish holidays. I knew that no matter what, I had to get the Menorah down before then. A week and a half later -- it was the morning of December 24th -- I tried, and failed to get the menorah down once more. I had to rush home, because my wife had a doctor’s appointment at noon. As I drove onto the highway, and saw the towering menorah, I lifted my eyes heavenward and said, "Ribono Shel Olam,” Master of the Universe, ”if that menorah does not come down today, I will never get permission to put it up again!" I continued home, and gave my wife the car to go to the doctor. She left and returned, and when she saw me running out the door, she asked where I was going. I told her my fear, that if I didn't get the menorah down before the X-mas holiday began, I probably wouldn't get permission to put it up in the future. She said to me, "But I thought you took it down this morning?" So, I told her that I had tried but couldn't get it down. "But it is down," she said. "I just drove by there, and it's gone." "Can't be," I replied, "it's less than an hour since I left it, and it was still up. You probably just didn't notice it." I drove back to the museum, and sure enough, the menorah was gone. By this time, it was late afternoon, and I couldn't even ask anyone at the museum, since it closed for the holiday. I was worried that if they took it down themselves, it implied that they were upset with us for leaving it standing for so long after Chanukah.
December 26th, I brought a gift for Dr. Cross. While talking about the Chanukah event, he mentioned that he was happy to see that we finally got the menorah down, because some members of the board had begun to comment about it. He had told them that he saw me trying every day to get it down, but that I seemed to be having a problem. He assured them that I was not neglecting it. Well, now I knew that the museum staff hadn't taken it down, so who had? Furthermore, where was the menorah? Later in the day, I brought two bottles of whiskey to Andy Scott -- one for him, and one for his workers. While I was thanking him for everything he had done and praising his two workers, one of them walked by. He called him into the office, gave him both bottles, and told him that I was praising their work and that they made him very proud. The worker replied, "Yeah, we were driving home from work on the 24th and we saw the menorah was still up, so I turned to my partner and said, ‘Wasn't their holiday over, two weeks back? I’ll bet the Rabbi's having trouble getting it down and that's why it's still up. Hey let's do a good deed before we go home, and take it down for the Rabbi.’" [This had to have happened just as soon as I cried out to G-d for help, because just 20 minutes later, when my wife drove by, the menorah was already down!] This was news to Andy Scott, who turned around and saw the look of relief on my face, and he realized that till then I hadn't known what had happened to the menorah, either. He turned, once again, to his worker and asked, "And what did you do with the menorah?" "Oh, we brought it back here." "And where did you put it," asked Mr. Scott? "We put it in a place where it wouldn't be in the way." Mr. Scott turned to me once more and said, "Raaabaah, it seems that when you try doing something you know nothing about, you just get yourself into trouble. I want to make a deal with you. In the future, you just stay out of this. Once a year, when it's this time of the year, you come by with that big smile of yours and say, 'it's time,' and we'll put up the menorah and then we'll take it down and store it. You just please stay out of making trouble!" My response? "Mr. Scott, you've got a deal!" [A side note: Think of the power of belief – these two non-Jewish workers, who just a couple of weeks earlier knew that it would take five people to carry this menorah, now had no doubt that with G-d’s help, they could do it themselves!]
True to his word, when I showed up the next year, before Chanukah, he said he would take care of it. However, he wanted permission to make two changes: First of all, (I had given him, as a gift,) the first Chanukah book that Chabad had put out, showing the menorahs from all over the world. He wanted to make a new one that would be nicer than the others. And secondly, in order that the menorah should telescope up and down, without worrying about the oil of the hydraulic system freezing, he wanted to switch from a hydraulic to an electric telescopic menorah. [The menorah itself burned kerosene and was not electric, just the telescopic control was electric]. I, of course, agreed to both changes, and he took care of it all. He even painted the menorah gold.
Just one more detail remains to be told in this continuing saga of Divine Providence. One month before Chanukah 5748, (two years after the above story,) without any forewarning, Dr. Cross sent me a letter informing me that, due to the menorah controversy, started by the Jewish establishment, (which had been ongoing for the past five years, yet the board still gave its permission annually,) the board would rather not get involved this year, and thus would not allow me to put up the menorah on museum property, for the Chanukah holiday. I tried every way I could, to get them to change their minds, but was not successful. However, at the same time I found an even more visible spot, on an overpass of the highway. This in fact would give the impression that one was driving right up to the Menorah and then suddenly the highway dipped under the menorah. I met with the mayor knowing that it was unlikely that he would agree, since it was a controversial issue that no smart politician would care to get involved in. Sure enough, he “passed the buck” by sending me to the city attorney. When I presented my request to the city attorney he argued that it was unconstitutional because of separation of church and state. I said that the Supreme Court already ruled that it was perfectly legal. The attorney replied that he knows about that ruling, and disagreed with it. To which I responded, “Perhaps you are right, and when you become a judge on the bench of the Supreme Court, you may even be able to overturn that ruling, but right now that is the law of the land, and as the city attorney you must uphold that law!” He looked at me, somewhat surprised, and said “rabbi, you should have been a lawyer.” I smiled and said “That’s exactly what rabbis are. We deal with Jewish law all the time.” The city attorney then told me that since the highway was a state highway; both the city and state had to give permission. He continued, “If the state isn’t against it, neither am I.” The permission had to come from the governor's office. This was now Kislev 24, erev (the eve of) Chanukah, so I immediately called the governor’s aide and explained that I needed the governor’s permission. [Fortuitously, I had personally met the governor and his aide that past summer.] The aide told me to call back in a half hour. When I called back he said, “The governor told me that this issue in Birmingham is a ‘hot potato’ and we can’t get involved. However, tell the rabbi that if he would just put it up, we would not have anything against it. And if any authority tells him that he has to take it down, by law, they have to give him 10 days to do so.” Mr. Scott had been aware of the whole controversy and wanted to see me win, so he had told me a few weeks earlier, “Raaabaah here’s mah private number, anytime, day or night, when you get permission, call me and I promise I will have it up anywhere in the city within 20 minutes.” And we got it up just in time for the first night of Chanukah. In the interim, the Jewish establishment had spread the word, throughout the city, that they had finally succeeded in stopping the erection of the menorah. Imagine their embarrassment and chagrin when driving home the first eve of Chanukah, there was the menorah facing them, in all of its glory, on the overpass.
It was on the fifth night of Chanukah that we witnessed the last segment of this wondrous Chanukah miracle. The original design of this unique telescopic menorah was made on the premise that by bolting it to a free-standing wall, on the museum property, it would hold up despite its being top heavy. Of course, now that the menorah was standing on the ground instead, it was re-designed with a weighted base. The night before, after the fifth Chanukah lighting, there was a freak wind of hurricane strength. The next morning Mr. Scott called me and, in a clearly trembling voice, said that now he saw openly just how much G-d watches over me. He said that he had never told me that he couldn't sleep well during Chanukah, because he felt that the wall, to which the menorah was bolted, was not strong enough to hold up the menorah. Given one strong wind and one top heavy menorah, the wall and menorah could easily have toppled over onto the highway, causing untold damage and probably even deaths. "Raaabaah," he said, "had the museum not denied you this year, forcing you to move it elsewhere, with last night’s hurricane wind, I promise you, the menorah and the wall would have toppled over onto the highway, causing damage and deaths and you would have had one hell of a law suit on your head!"
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