BLESSINGS AND EMPATHY FROM THE LUBAVITCHER REBBE:
A WOUNDED SOLDIER GETS A "THANK YOU".

From: Shliach613@aol.com

When Joseph Cabiliv, today a successful real estate developer, regained
consciousness in the Rambam Hospital in Haifa, he remembered nothing of the
circumstances that had brought him there. He felt an excruciating pain in his
legs.

The discovery that followed was far more horrendous: glancing under the sheet, he saw that both his legs had been amputated, the right leg at the knee, the
left at mid-thigh.

The day before, Joseph, who was serving on reserve duty in
Tsahal (the Israeli Defense Forces), was patrolling the Golan Heights with
several other soldiers when their jeep hit an old Syrian land mine.

Besides the pain and disability, Joseph was confronted with society's incapacity to deal with the handicapped. "My friends would come to visit," he recalls, "sustain
fifteen minutes of artificial cheer, and depart without once meeting my eye.
People were quick to offer charity, no one had a job for a man without legs.
"When I ventured out in my wheelchair, people kept their distance, so that a large
empty space opened up around me on the busiest street corner." When Joseph met
with other disabled veterans he found that they all shared his experience:
they had given their very bodies in defense of the nation, but the nation lacked
the spiritual strength to confront their sacrifice.

"In the summer of 1976," Joseph tells, "Tsahal sponsored a tour of the United States for a large group of disabled veterans. While in New York, we went to
Lubavitch World Headquarters. A special meeting with the Rebbe was set up. A
white-bearded man of about 70 entered the room, followed by two secretaries. As
if by signal, absolute silence pervaded the room. There was no mistaking the
authority he radiated.

We had all stood in the presence of military commanders
and prime ministers, but this was unlike anything we had ever encountered.
This must have been what people felt in the presence of royalty. He passed
between us, resting his glance on each one of us and lifting his hand in
greeting, and then seated himself opposite us. Again he looked at each of us in turn.
From that terrible day on which I had woken without my legs in the Hospital, I
have seen all sorts of things in the eyes of those who looked at me: pain,
pity, revulsion, anger. This was the first time in all those years that I
encountered true empathy.

The Rebbe then began to speak about our "disability,"
saying that he objected to the use of the term, disabled.

"If a person has been deprived of a limb or a faculty," he told, "this itself indicates that Hashem has given him special powers to overcome their limitations and surpass the achievements of ordinary people. You are not "disabled" or "handicapped," but special and unique, as you possess potentials that the rest of us do not. "I therefore suggest," he continued, adding with a smile, "of course it is none of my business, but Jews are famous for voicing opinions on matters that do not
concern them, that you should no longer be called n'chei Yisrael ("the disabled
of Israel" our designation in the Tsahal bureaucracy) but metzuyanei Yisrael
("the special of Israel")."

He spoke for several minutes more, and everything
he said - and more importantly, the way in which he said it - addressed what had
been churning within me since my injury. "In parting, he gave each of us a
dollar bill, in order - he explained - that we give it to charity in his behalf,
making us partners in the fulfillment of a mitzvah. He walked from wheelchair
to wheelchair, shaking our hands, giving each a dollar, and adding a personal
word or two.

When my turn came, I saw his face up close and I felt like a child.

He gazed deeply into my eyes, took my hand between his own, pressed it firmly, and said "Thank you" with a slight nod of his head.

"I later learned that he had said something different to each one of us. To me he said "Thank you," somehow he sensed that that was exactly what I needed to hear. With those two words, the Rebbe erased all the bitterness and despair that had accumulated in my heart.

I carried the Rebbe's "Thank you" back to Israel, and I carry it with me to
this very day."
- posted by Izak @ 12:21 AM