A Letter from the Rebbe and the miracle that resulted.
In Israel, there was a Chabad educator named Rabbi Amos Karniel, who served as the principal of one of the Chabad Network schools (Reshet). In his free time, he was always involved in the Mivtzaim of the Rebbe. Among other things, once a week he would visit Prison 4, a military jail, to teach Torah to the inmates, to daven Maariv with them, and to sit with them afterwards — listening, speaking, and encouraging hearts that were completely broken.
One day, he noticed a new prisoner: a resident of Jerusalem, a husband and father of five children. He had served in the reserves of HAGA in East Jerusalem.
The day before, his fellow soldier, Avraham Deutsch HY”D, had been murdered by violent terrorists. This prisoner had arrived at the Rockefeller Museum junction, and in a moment of panic and self-defense, shot and killed an Arab youth. He immediately turned himself in. The military court found him guilty of murder and sentenced him to prison.
For him and for his family, this was a disaster beyond imagination.
And each week, Rabbi Karniel would sit with him personally. That was what kept him going. That weekly conversation — words of encouragement, faith, and strength — was his lifeline.
Before Chanukah, Rabbi Karniel traveled to the Rebbe. He brought with him letters that the prisoners had written.
Before returning to Israel, he received a remarkable response from the Rebbe (Igros Kodesh, vol. 34, p. 58).
In the letter, the Rebbe addresses all Jewish prisoners in Israel. He notes that several requested advice, a blessing, and inner peace — how to find calm within the walls of prison.
The Rebbe then turns to Chanukah, and explains a profound message from the Chanukah lights: every person needs light — inner light, spiritual light, direction, and peace of mind.
And then the Rebbe describes something striking: There are people whose lives externally are perfect — material comfort, success — and yet they lack inner light, joy, and serenity.
And there are people whose external circumstances are unbearable, and yet they possess serenity and happiness.
And this, says the Rebbe, depends on the person himself: When one decides to have bitachon in Hashem — to believe that everything will turn out for the best — that itself creates the vessel through which salvation arrives. Optimism and faith become the keilim for Hashem’s bracha.
An Accidental Opportunity — and a Forgotten Promise
Later, at Yud-Shevat, Rabbi Karniel brought a group of Chabad students to the home of Israel’s president, Yitzhak Navon, for the annual ceremony honoring the Chabad school network, Ohalei Yosef Yitzchak.
Navon praised Chabad’s educational work. Then he suddenly said, “There is one thing I don’t like about Chabad — they don’t work with prisoners…”
Rabbi Karniel told him what he does every week, and that just last month he brought a special letter from the Rebbe. Navon was moved, and asked to see the letter. Rabbi Karniel promised to bring it — but, most unusually, forgot — something completely out of character.
Meanwhile, the families of the prisoner and the rabbi formed a deep bond. The family needed support, and every step of the way, the rabbi’s family helped. And then, that winter, the court handed down a sentence to the prisoner – 20 years in prison. He appealed and the upper court reduced the sentence to ten years.
This was still devastating. And at that moment, Rabbi Karniel remembered two things:
- Send a copy of the Rebbe’s letter to President Navon.
- President Navon regularly attends the Yud-Alef Nissan celebration at the home of Rabbi Shloime Majednik and then attended the community gathering in Bais Menachem, Kfar Chabad.
He approached Rabbi Majednik, who agreed to arrange a private meeting in his home before the farbrengen. Rabbi Karniel showed the letter to Navon, who was deeply moved.
He told him about the prisoner and his family, and asked for a Presidential pardon.
Navon said: Since this involved a soldier, only the Chief of Staff could pardon him.
But Navon promised to talk to him.
The next day, he spoke to Rafael “Raful” Eitan, the Chief of Staff. Raful was convinced, and the sentence was reduced to 2.5 years — which the prisoner had already served. And so he was freed — before Pesach.
This story is not just about mercy — it is about Hashgacha Pratis, Divine Providence that works through human beings, timing, mistakes, and forgotten promises.
This week we celebrate Yud-Tes Kislev, the liberation of the Alter Rebbe, who was imprisoned because opponents of Chassidus informed against him, accusing him of rebellion, of wanting to be “king”. In those days, such a charge meant death sentence.
He spent 53 days in the most severe Russian prison reserved for enemies of the regime. On the last day before his release, he was visited by the Baal Shem Tov and the Maggid of Mezritch. He asked them: “Why was I imprisoned? Why did this happen to me?”
They answered: “Because you have spread Chassidus so widely.”
The Alter Rebbe asked: “Should I stop when I am released?”
And they responded: “No. Because you have given your life for spreading Chassidus, you must now continue even more, with greater strength and greater intensity.”
And that is exactly what he did.
One of the central teachings of Chassidus is that the Baal Shem Tov revealed the idea of Hashgacha Pratis on every detail:
The Baal Shem Tov’s approach regarding Divine Providence is that it applies also to inanimate objects, to plants, and to animals, and to every single detail. And even that a leaf rolls from one side to another — whether it is rolled by the wind or by some other force — this too is under Divine Providence.
One of the Baal Shem Tov’s students struggled with this radical idea. The Baal Shem Tov sent him to the forest, to watch a leaf that fell from a tree.
He followed it for a long time — blown here and there — until it landed between two stones, where a worm emerged and began to eat it. When he returned,before he had a chance to say a single word, the Baal Shem Tov told him:
“Hashem, who feeds the entire world, rolled this leaf so that it would become food for that worm — and every movement of that leaf was under Hashgacha Pratis.”
Yosef HaTzaddik — Faith Inside Prison
And this is not only a lesson for prisoners behind bars.
We read this evening during Mincha Service, the story of Yosef HaTzaddik, who was sold as a slave, tempted, imprisoned for twelve years — yet did not fall into despair. He even encouraged other prisoners, as we read regarding the butler and the baker.
Where did he find the strength? Because Yosef lived with Hashgacha Pratis. He believed that Hashem directs every detail, and therefore his situation had meaning, purpose, and direction.
This teaching is not only for people in a physical prison.
Life places each of us in circumstances that feel confining, overwhelming, painful, or unjust.
Chassidus gives us a path: The more one strengthens his bitachon, the more he knows that everything is under Hashgacha Pratis, the more he brings light — like a Chanukah candle — into his life: light of joy, connection, and meaning. And this light itself becomes the vessel through which Hashem sends blessings.
Just as in the story of this prisoner, where a chain of unlikely events — a prison visit, a letter, a forgotten promise, a private meeting, and a moved president — ended in freedom before Pesach.
And just as in the release of the Alter Rebbe, which became the beginning of greater expansion of Chassidus, not its end.
Because personal redemption becomes the foundation of geulah klalis — the complete and ultimate redemption. May we merit it speedily.
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