Vayishlach
Farewell to a Fighter
Jacob’s Secret Behind Jewish Resilience
Dedicated by David and Eda Schottenstein
In the loving memory of:
Rabbi Levi Yitzchok ben Zalman Yuda Deitsch
and Alta Shula Swerdlov
And in honor of the birth of our daughter
Yetta Alta Shula, "Aliyah"
Rabbi Levi Yitzchak Deitsch with three of his children
This past Sunday morning, I bid farewell to a lifelong friend, who died on Shabbat at the age of 34, after a three-year battle with lung and stomach cancer.
Rabbi Levi Yitzchak Deitsch was Chabad’s ambassador to Tyson’s Corner, Virginia, where he and his wife Miriam built a remarkable Jewish center and led a vibrant community. Levi is survived by his wife, four children, his mother, siblings, and many grieving family members and friends.
I had known Levi for many years. Among other things, we shared a passion for unhealthy, delicious kosher food. Levi loved people; he knew how to celebrate life to the fullest, and had a heart of gold. His passion was to help people, never allowing awkwardness or fear to stifle his insatiable zest for giving. His laugh was contagious, his wittiness charming, and his people’s skills impressive. I have always appreciated these qualities in him, but—as I came to realize—I never recognized who he truly was.
Then, three years ago, he was struck with a terrible illness. I traveled numerous times to Virginia to visit Levi. There I encountered a new dimension to him—an unwavering courage and faith.
I took a trip to his hospital bed just a few days before his passing. He was physically drained, receiving oxygen, his body tormented from years of a ravaging illness. But he still had that glitter in his eye, that spark of life. He said these words to me: “I will overcome!” Never have I come closer to understanding that scene in Genesis 32, read in this week’s portion, Vayishlach, in which Jacob wrestles with an unknown and unnamed adversary from night until the break of day.
“Bless Me”
22 years earlier Jacob had left home, fearing that his brother Esau, whose blessing he had taken, would kill him. Now he is returning, when he hears that Esau in on his way to meet him with a force of 400 men. Jacob, says the Bible, was “very afraid and distressed.” It is then that the famous scene occurs: “Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak.”
The mysterious man tries to kill Jacob. Then, “when he sees that he cannot defeat him,” he maims Jacob, causing him to limp. And yet at the end of a long, struggling night, Jacob says to the stranger: “I will not let you go until you bless me.” His adversary blesses him.
This is a strange episode. The mysterious man was attempting to kill Jacob. Unable to achieve that, he goes for “second best:” he wounds him. Why would Jacob ask him for a blessing, saying “Bless me?” Is this how you bid farewell to a gangster who attempted to destroy you?
But Jacob was teaching us the secret of Jewish identity and resilience. To be a Jew is to posses that unique ability to say to every crisis: “I will not let you go until you bless me.” I know that deep down your objective is to elevate me, to bring me to a higher place, to climb the mountain leading to the truth. If G-d is truly everywhere, it means that somehow G-d is within every challenge and crisis too; somehow you will propel me to emerge stronger, wiser, more blessed.
The Miracle
When that horrific illness came in the midst of night to wrestle Levi and kill him, he fought with tenaciousness and determination. He was determined to reach the break of dawn. The illness maimed him severely, yet he declared, time and time again, “I will not let you go till you bless me.” I will not only emerge triumphant, but I will grow from you. My life will prosper like never before. And wonder of wonders, days before his death, as the doctors shared their predictions, he still refused to blink. “Nature and miracles are both a manifestation of Divine energy,” he told me during those last days. “The same Creator who gave me the illness can take it if He so desires.”
Doctors kept on saying he had a few days left. Each time, he surprised them. Yet at the end, G-d decided to take him. The miracle did not happen.
And then I realized: Levi himself—he was the miracle. He did not let go, and in the process, all of us were blessed.
Farewell my dear friend. With your life, we have all been enriched and blessed; with your passing, we are impoverished. I will miss you Levi.
(To make a donation to the special family fund, please click here).
thanks
Thank you
Levi
piognant
Thank You
Painful
May Hashem bring comfort to the Deitches and all their friends and family.
Thanks
Aibeshter really wanting us to feel the pain of golus, and need moshiach....to appreciate it...
who knows anymore?
I barely knew Levi, but I liked him. we met when he once visited
my yeshiva. he had been my chavrusa's counselor in summer camp several
years earlier. so he stopped by our table to chat. we were much
younger then him, so not having much to talk about, he complimented my
friend on his handwriting.
thinking back, i feel that if there is a lesson i learned from levi,
it is to always find that something special in everyone we meet, and
make them feel good about themselves.
in this delicate world we live in, we have to love everyone while we
can, because we dont know how long they'll be here to appreciate them.
to wrestle with angels
I see the word bless in the French word, blesser, which means, to wound, and I am seeing a story here, that deeply involves words themselves, in their deconstructions. I have been writing about this on line, at Chabad and Aish for a long time. It's really no different, how could it be, from what we know about Hebrew, how it builds, and what we know deeply, in terms of the mystical significance of all letters, particularly the writing about the Hebrew letters. I am moving across "Babel" in explicating something divine about words themselves. How powerful they are, and beyond. Can words save the world!
And so I am saying, one can pull at the veils, veils that do bring truth, from this story, and see also, another story, that is deep, that is profound, that has everything to do with what is greatness and greater than us all.
Thank you for a beautiful piece of writing about a truly wonderful man. I think many many will miss him, and those that did not, will learn about him and honor him through these writings.
May G-d protect his family and give to all its members the strength they need
tribute
As a Northern Virginia resident, I was aware of your close relationship with Rabbi Levi. I have been praying for him nearly every day for the past three years and participating in many group efforts, such as challah baking, giving extra tzedakah and learning, in the merit of his recovery. The emptiness I feel for his being gone comes not only from missing him, but also from feeling that all of those hopeful efforts weren't enough. The thought that sustains me is that our prayers are always answered, but sometimes the answer is "no."
May you be comforted for the loss of a close friend, and may Levi's memory be for a blessing. Please come visit us soon at the Chabad in Fairfax.
Thank You