Parshas Bamidbar

Once at a far­bren­gen it was quite hot and cramped, and some rav there, want­ing to get up from the ta­ble, was un­suc­cess­ful. “They won’t let me out, ” he said.

Over­hear­ing him, the Rebbe — the Tzemach Tzedek — said, “Who would dare not let a Yid out? Who would dare not let a Yid out?”

On an­other oc­ca­sion, R. Yis­roel told the Rebbe that they had guests vis­it­ing for Sim­chas Torah who were not that fa­mil­iar with the chas­sidic life­style. His wife, fear­ing the im­pres­sion they would get of R. Yis­roel, had ad­vised him to re­strain him­self. Hear­ing his ex­pla­na­tion, the Rebbe re­sponded, “Du zolst nis­pael veren fun zei?! Zei zol nis­pael veren fun dir! — You be im­pacted by them?! Let them be im­pacted by you!”

The third story:

It was not sur­pris­ing, my zeide com­mented, to see the tears of Reb Aizel’s stu­dents when he passed away. But some­one else, not among Reb Aizel’s stu­dents, also cried un­con­trol­lably.

“Why are you cry­ing?” they asked him.

“He saved my life, ” he an­swered. “When I was young it came to my mind to com­mit a trans­gres­sion. As I walked along, Reb Aizel — who had left the Lubav­itcher shul af­ter dav­en­ing — was walk­ing be­hind me.

“‘Where are you go­ing!?’ he shouted. I didn’t an­swer a word, and con­tin­ued walk­ing. “‘Where are you go­ing!?’ he shouted again. ‘Go to shul and re­cite some Tehillim!’

“He saved my life, ” the man con­cluded. “How can I not cry over such a tzad­dik?”

“You have mazel!” Reb Aizel would tell him. (And when that Yid passed away, my zeide told me who he was.)