The Compassionate and Kind Rebbe of the Survivors
The Tosh Rebbe, Meshulam Feish Lowy z”l, a decade since his passing – Av 27, 5775/Aug. 12, 2015
By: Yaakov Rosenfeld, Ganzach Kiddush Hashem
The Tosh Rebbe, who passed away ten years ago, was a Holocaust survivor. All his life, he bore the pain of losing his homeland and the holy communities that filled Hungary, the land of his birth.
His life story is essentially the story of the Jewish People – a people of survivors that rose and shook off the ashes. The Rebbe single-handedly established a beautiful and magnificent community centered in Canada, with branches scattered throughout the United States and Europe.
Compassionate and Kind
The Rebbe’s leadership was compassionate and heartfelt. He bore on his pure heart the pain of many brokenhearted people who found comfort and solace in him.
And his acts of charity were miraculous and rare.
He distributed everything he had to the poor, both his acquaintances and those he had never seen before, and when his collectors saw that this situation was not right and hid all the money that came in, the Rebbe would find creative solutions where to hide large sums of money and hint to them, the poor, with a wink of an eye where to take it from.
Sometimes sums of money were found in his shoes, in books, in nooks and crannies, and it was like he was waging a kind of “battle” with his devoted assistants; they wanted to leave the money for his home, and he always had the upper hand. People left his house with legendary sums of money, and he lived simply, ascetic, poor, and frugal.
Many wondered where the Rebbe drew the strength to serve G-d in such a way. He would exhaust himself with Torah and prayer until he had no more strength, to the point that even during his lifetime he was crowned among wide circles, not necessarily just among his followers, as a “Kadosh Elyon” (a loft holy person), and his books “Avodat Avoda” were a staple for thousands of followers and influential men who found in them light and life, strength and power.
A Relic of the Dor Deah (Generation of Knowledge)
The Tosh Rebbe, a relic of the dor deah, was ninety-four years old when he passed away, and there is much to be said about him, and we at the Ganzach Kiddush Hashem perpetuate his image as a Holocaust survivor, fierce as a tiger, light as an eagle, swift as a deer, and strong as a lion. The Rebbe could certainly have sunk into his grief and not tried to rebuild his life in the difficult years, exactly eighty years ago, but he chose life, he chose to breathe dew of revival on the remnants of the Jewish People. The path was not easy and not short, but in the end, he saw his reward in his lifetime and succeeded in establishing a magnificent and holy community imbued with an aura of grace.
In the year 5703 (1943), when he was a young man, the son of the holy genius Rabbi Mordechai Segal Lowy, the Tosh Rebbe (the eldest son of the Rebbe, Rabbi Elimelech of Tosh), was drafted into the Hungarian labour service and sent to camps in Kosice and Marghita. What was it thanks to that his life was saved, and not only that, but that he was able to worship G-d and study Torah?
His commanders saw his service to G-d, and in their clumsy gentile eyes, they didn’t understand it at all… They saw him as “crazy” and therefore gave him some freedom, relatively speaking, of course.
The Rebbe in his youth
After the Holocaust, in which his holy father was killed along with most of his relatives, he wandered to Erd, Mako, and finally Kleinwardein, and did not find many survivors there. In 5706 (1946), he married his rebbetzin, Chava, daughter of Rabbi Yehuda Weingarten. Finally, he was called by the surviving Tosh chassidism to come and serve as Rebbe in Nyíregyháza.
A memorial that the Rebbe erected to the members of his family who were killed in sanctification of the Name of G-d
His father, Rebbe Mordechai
In 5711 (1951), due to persecution by the government and the danger to his life, he emigrated to Canada, and later opened his community and town in a suburb of the large city Montreal.
The Rebbe of Tosh loved his community, and especially the brokenhearted within it. His love for the Jewish People knew no bounds, and every year, on the yahrzeit (anniversary of death) of the Or HaChaim rabbi, he would travel to the community of the Mizrachi Jews (Jews whose communities originated in Muslim lands) who lived near Tosh and would host a feast with them in unity and great affection. In general, he would bring together and love every Jew and distribute his wealth to charity without looking after himself, and certainly not after his circle or relatives. He called his community and its institutions “Or HaChaim,” because he found the land for the housing he established with the Divine help on the yahrzeit of Rabbi Chaim ben Atar, whose wrote the Or HaChaim book, which the Rebbe was very connected to.
The activities of the Tosh Rebbe during the Holocaust, and even more so during the rebuilding and revival of the survivors, can fill a large book, but in preparation for the tenth yahrzeit, we will tell you two unknown stories, but from an authoritative source, testimonies that touched the hearts of visitors to Ganzach Kiddush Hashem’s exhibitions last summer, as part of the increased activity during the Three Weeks (between the Shiva Asar B’Tammuz and Tisha B’Av fast days) for yeshiva students and religious communities.
In 5762 (2001-2), he traveled to visit the graves of his ancestors in Hungary. As he stood at the graves of his ancestors, he shed tears like water and thus, while standing, finished the entire Book of Psalms with excitement and enthusiasm. The recitation of the Psalms took him eight hours, and the event will never be forgotten. During that magnificent event, one of the elders of the chassidim recalled that decades earlier, when the Tosh Rebbe first visited his hometown, he stood by the graves of his ancestors for only a few minutes and hurried on his way. Why did the recitation of the Psalms not take eight hours then?
Here we need to open our hearts a little, to reflect a little on the righteous of the generation, the leaders of the Jewish people who shook off the ashes after the Holocaust, and gave their all for the brokenhearted, the Holocaust survivors who wandered alone in their destroyed world and cried out for a listening ear, for an understanding heart.
In 5732 (1971-2), twenty years after the Rebbe emigrated to Canada, he was allowed to return to the land of his ancestors for the first time and to visit their graves.
The excitement surrounding this trip and the anticipation for it cannot be contained in mere words and it is quite easy to understand why, as he is almost the only descendant of a long line of rebbes and rabbis, of whom almost no males remain. The burden of all generations rested on his shoulders, and with all his heart he looked forward to the moment when he would prostrate himself at the grave of his grandfather, the Tosh Rebbe, Rabbi Elimelech, whom he loved so much and to whom he clung with heart and soul throughout his youth.
Finally, surprisingly, the Rebbe arrived in the town of Tosh only late, only managed to stay there for a few minutes, during which he prostrated himself on the graves, quickly prayed according to the order of prayers he had set for himself, and immediately turned to continue on his way. The reason for this was that when he arrived in Budapest, before traveling to the resting place of his ancestors, for the first time since the war, he prayed Shacharit in the local synagogue and met sad Jews, survivors. He began to talk to them and discovered before him people thirsting for a encouragement and strengthening. The Rebbe seemed to have forgotten the entire purpose of the trip and the immense excitement that had preceded it. He devoted himself entirely to the heartbroken Jews and gave them the most precious thing he had: his time! He planned to weep and plead at the graves of his ancestors, to tell them what he had been through, what a family he had founded, and what a community. He planned to weep and plead, to ask for mercy for himself, his family, and the community, but when he found Jews who needed encouragement, Jewish survivors, he forgot about himself and devoted himself entirely to them. An eyewitness said that the Rebbe did not leave until he saw joy and delight on their faces, and as he said in Yiddish, “er hot zei mechiya geven” (he revived them).
At the graves of his ancestors
Another touching story:
The “Theft” that was Returned
A Jew came to the Toshe Rebbe and told him that he intended to move to Quebec City. “Why would you leave a chassidic charedi (ultra-Orthodox) community and go live in a desolate desert?” asked the compassionate Rebbe.
And the Jew, poor, lonely and destitute, answered in a weeping voice: “I have nothing, I have no livelihood, and also, I remember what happened to me when I arrived here, to the shores of Canada, after the Holocaust when I had nothing but one suitcase, and since then I have constantly wanted to return to the shore, maybe I will find what was stolen from me.”
The Rebbe shook his head and asked with compassion: “What happened to you at the shore, what was stolen from you?”
And the man suddenly realized that he didn’t sound like he was talking to the point. He was ashamed; in any case, he seemed like a man from the village and not some man with a delusional imagination about ancient thefts. But the Rebbe, merciful and soft-hearted, knew that the man, after what he had been through in life, had to vent. Had to!
He pleaded with the man, and the man said:
“When I arrived in Canada after the war, I had one suitcase and in it was all my possessions. I left all my memories and my youth there, my dear family, and all my possessions, I only brought one suitcase with me and it was my whole world.”
“As I stood on the shore, sheltered from the hustle and bustle, someone approached me and snatched the suitcase from my hands. He fled, and I was left with nothing. I’ve been here ever since,” the man continued, “and I haven’t been able to build myself up yet. I have no income, I have nothing, and I can’t forget the suitcase. I’m thinking of moving there, and maybe I’ll find my suitcase someday.”
What could the Rebbe say?
He blessed him warmly and said goodbye.
A week passed and here was a Jew, a respected charedi man, knocking on the door of the poor and broken Holocaust survivor.
“I want to tell you something, but I ask that you forgive me and not tell anyone in the world.”
The Jew entered and in a somewhat stammering voice told about that day when he could not resist the urge that tempted him:
“I saw your suitcase, I was sure it was full of a fortune. I too was without anything, only one piece of clothing on my body, and a mind full of sorrow and worry… I said to myself, I will take the suitcase, of course as a loan, and when it the fortune grows, I will return everything with compound interest, but how disappointed I was when I discovered that there were no valuables in the suitcase, and then it was already too late, I was already ashamed to return the suitcase to you. The evil inclination took over me again and I threw it and its contents away. I have no idea why I did that.”
“I am ashamed, it has been several years. Please forgive me, and I am willing to pay you whatever you ask.”
The two sat and wept. The entire terrible past, for the Holocaust survivor, floated before his eyes. And the man, on the other side, was also crying, and begging: “Please tell me what was in there. Please name the price and I will pay you.”
The two did a quick calculation together, and came to an even sum. The “thief” paid five hundred dollars, which was a handsome sum at the time, and the man forgave him with a handshake, and since he already had a pretty good amount of money, he decided that at this point he would not leave the community.
He began to rehabilitate himself and began to engage in a profession, and success shone on his face. Within a short period of time, the colour began to return to his cheeks, and the man began to be an orderly and normal person.
After a while, he married, and from a lonely and abandoned man he became a happy father, and respected among his people.
Years passed, the man began to age, and one day he was sitting in his house and light knocks woke him from his thoughts. At the door was that “thief”; although he had already paid for his theft, the cloud of suspicion had not lifted from him in the eyes of the Holocaust survivor, and the survivor always looked at him as a not very honest person. The survivor did not tell anyone about this, but this impression never left him.
The man entered and said: “I want to tell you something.”
“Know that I have never stolen anything from you. The same day you told the Tosh Rebbe that you intended to move to Quebec City, the Rebbe approached me and asked me to tell you what I had told you. He promised me that by saving a Jewish soul from destruction, I would receive blessings and salvation, and I kept his word and the Rebbe paid the five hundred dollars, that very day.”
“Now it’s time to tell you, I’m moving to Brooklyn, we won’t see each other anymore. It’s time for you to know: I didn’t steal anything from you, everything I did was at the Rebbe’s behest!” How good and wise the Rebbe was, who understood that in order to restore this broken Jew who felt so betrayed and oppressed as a result of the theft, he would have to feel a sense of correction and forgiveness. His good deeds grew, and how is wisdom and discernment grew!
