Three stories from the early years of Rabbi Leibel Alevsky’s shlichus in Cleveland
This week my father-in-law, Rabbi Yehuda Leib Alevsky a”h, the Rebbe’s shliach to Cleveland and Northeastern Ohio, passed away. He arrived in Cleveland over fifty years ago at the invitation of his in-laws, Rabbi Zalman and Rebbetzin Shula Kazen a”h, who were already active in the city. During the summers he would come and work with college students; something he was very successful at.
At that time, Mr. Irving Stone, owner of American Greetings and one of the city’s major philanthropists, approached him and asked him to open a Chabad House. My father-in-law replied, “If you are willing to take full financial responsibility, we will bring a shliach.” Stone answered, “I am willing to fund it, but only if you are the one who comes.”
That is how it all began. A special committee was formed to bring my in-laws, Rabbi and Rebbetzin Alevsky, to establish Chabad in Cleveland.
One of the committee members was Rabbi Armond Cohen, rabbi of the large Conservative synagogue Park Synagogue, one of the biggest in the country. He believed there was a need to strengthen Jewish identity among youth, and therefore supported bringing a Chabad shliach.
(When I arrived in 1991 to open Chabad in Solon, he wrote me a letter saying, “I am very happy you came. You should know that I was part of the committee that brought your in-laws to the city, and I am proud of that.”)
Simchas Torah by the Rebbe
In their first year or two, they worked extensively with teenagers from Park Synagogue. They organized a bus to take them to New York for Simchas Torah with the Rebbe. Simchas Torah in Crown Heights is unlike anything else; it is an experience that stays with a person for life.
Years later, one of the girls on that trip described how they stayed with local families, experienced the incredible joy, and absorbed a unique atmosphere.
When they returned to Cleveland, something had changed. Some of the teens began demanding that their parents keep kosher at home. This created a major uproar. Parents feared their children were being “made religious,” and strong resistance developed.
As a result, working with those teens became much more difficult.
The Menorah in Public Square
In his first year, he made a bold decision: to put up a public menorah in Public Square. At the time, this was highly unusual. Placing a religious symbol in a public space caused strong opposition, especially from the local Jewish Federation.
Shortly after, he received a call from Irving Stone, who said the Federation was very unhappy. Many Jews at the time believed that strict separation of religion and state would ensure that the Christian majority would do the same. Therefore, they argued, religious displays had no place in public areas.
Stone asked him to consider moving the menorah to private property. My father-in-law responded, “Before any decision, I ask the Rebbe.”
He contacted the Rebbe’s office and spoke with Rabbi Hodakov, explaining the intense pressure, especially on Stone himself. Rabbi Hodakov listened and said he would respond.
The answer came back clear and firm: absolutely not. Not only should it remain, but he should explain to Stone why this is the correct course.
The pressure was intense, but in the end, the menorah was placed and lit in the center of the city.
Reaching the Students
Another story reflects the state of Judaism in Cleveland at the time. He gave regular classes to dozens of students, sometimes fifty or sixty at a time. They sat on the floor, captivated, listening for hours.
What made him unique was not only the content, but his style. He had powerful stories, a sharp sense of humor, and an exceptional ability to debate. He welcomed challenges, and the students loved engaging with him because they received deep and convincing answers. Often the classes continued late into the night.
Slowly, results began to show. One student grew in Yiddishkeit, then another, and another. Step by step, real change developed. But not everyone was pleased.
One of the participants was the stepson of a rabbi from a major Reform synagogue. One Shabbos, the young man stayed at Rabbi Alevsky’s home for an extended time. His family became concerned, and suddenly the rabbi himself showed up at the door and asked, “Is my son here?” My father-in-law calmly replied, “Yes. You may take him.”
Apparently this angered him deeply. Shortly afterward, he published an article in the local Jewish newspaper labeling Chabad as a “cult.”
At the time, that word carried heavy weight. Many young people were joining cults, traveling to the Far East, searching for meaning in extreme ways. Parents were deeply afraid of this phenomenon. Labeling Chabad this way created fear and made outreach far more difficult.
These three stories show how difficult it was at the beginning. There was resistance, pressure, and it required tremendous dedication to achieve even small progress.
Looking today, more than fifty years later, you see how far things have come. The success of Chabad in Cleveland, and around the world, did not come easily. It came through hard work, persistence, and unwavering faith.
Today, many organizations say, “let’s learn from Chabad”. They copy the programs, Shabbat meals, Lag BaOmer parades, and other events. But that alone is not the secret.
Chabad is built on Ahavas Yisrael.
In Parshas Kedoshim we are commanded, “Love your fellow as yourself.” At the farbrengen of Yud-Tes Kislev 5735, the Rebbe explained that love of a fellow Jew is tied to love of Torah and love of G-d.
If Torah is the most precious thing in life, then true love means sharing it. Not just helping physically, but giving another Jew the most valuable gift you have.
Real love means wanting the other person to have your greatest good.
The Rebbe’s Army
But there is something even deeper. The Rebbe built an army. In an army, you do not debate orders. When you know what must be done, you go all the way.
When a chassid knows this is what the Rebbe wants, he does it. And when it comes from a place of truth, Hashem helps, and it succeeds.
The Rebbe explained this with a story from the Arizal in Tzfas. Once, before Kabbalas Shabbos, he told his students, “Let us go to Yerushalayim to receive Shabbos.” The students immediately understood that this was not a simple distance. It was not something natural. But some of them said, “We need to inform our families, to ask our wives…”
When the Arizal heard this, he stopped everything and said: if they had gone immediately, without hesitation, they could have brought Mashiach.
Of course, according to halacha, one must act responsibly and inform one’s family. But the Arizal wanted to see how far they were prepared to go.
When he saw their hesitation, he understood that with such an approach, it is impossible to break boundaries, impossible to bring Mashiach.
The Rebbe shared this story to teach a principle: to change the world requires real dedication.
In that same talk, the Rebbe also told a story about the tzaddik, Rabbi Meir of Premishlan. In his town, the mikvah was located beneath a large mountain, and when the mountain became slippery, people had to go around it. But Rabbi Meir would go straight over the mountain even when it was slippery. Once, a group of young scholars who did not believe in such things wanted to prove they could do the same. They went over the mountain and were injured. Later they asked Rabbi Meir: why is it that no one else can walk that path, yet you always go over the mountain?
Rabbi Meir answered them: when you are connected above, you do not fall below.
That is the foundation of success in shlichus. When you are connected above, you have the strength to move forward and to succeed.
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