Rabbi Shmuel Schneersohn, known as the Rebbe Moharash, was the fourth Rebbe in the Chabad-Lubavitch dynasty. He was born on the 2nd of Iyar, 5594 (1834), on the day of Tiferet of Tiferet in the Counting of the Omer to his father, the Rebbe Tzemach Tzedek, and his mother, Rebbetzin Chayah Mushka. He was named after the hidden tzaddik, Rabbi Shmuel the Water Carrier from Plosk. Despite being the youngest son, he succeeded his father as the next rebbe in Lubavitch, while most of his brothers took on leadership roles in other towns.
He married his niece, Rebbetzin Sterna Schneersohn, and after her passing, he married his cousin, Rebbetzin Rivkah. The Rebbe Moharash worked tirelessly for the welfare of Russian Jewry and Jews worldwide, establishing Jewish settlements and advocating on their behalf with government officials. He coined the famous Chassidic expression “LeChatchila Ariber,” declaring, "The world believes that when one cannot go under [an obstacle], they must go above. But I believe that from the outset one must rise above. One must act with strength, be undeterred by anything, and accomplish what needs to be done. And when you start this way, God helps."
The Rebbe Moharash was known for his wealthy lifestyle coupled with abundance. He passed away on the 13th of Tishrei, 5643 (1882) at the age of 48 and was buried in Lubavitch near his father, the Tzemach Tzedek. His son, Rabbi Sholom DovBer, succeeded him as the fifth Lubavitcher Rebbe.
On the day that the Rebbe Moharash, the youngest son of the Tzemach Tzedek, was circumcised, many chasidim were present. Some had remained from their pilgrimage for the holiday of Passover, while others had arrived upon hearing of the birth of the Tzemach Tzedek’s son. Everything was ready. The mohel had prepared all that was necessary to perform the mitzvah of circumcision, and the household had arranged a feast for all the guests. The attendees eagerly awaited the arrival of the baby’s father, the Tzemach Tzedek himself. But only after many hours did the Tzemach Tzedek arrive and the ceremony was finally held late in the day.
When the Tzemach Tzedek sat down to the feast, he remarked: “Ah, the holy burial society of Plosk!” When the child was named Shmuel, his sons asked: “But there is no one in our family with the name Shmuel?” The Tzemach Tzedek responded: “He is named after a certain water carrier in Plosk."
The chasidim of Plosk, who had attended the circumcision ceremony of the Rebbe Moharash, conducted an inquiry upon their return to their city to discover what had transpired that day with the town’s burial society. They found out that on that day, two men had passed away: one was a well-known and prominent individual, while the other was a poor, obscure water carrier. The burial society had first tended to the burial of the distinguished man, delaying the care for the water carrier until much later in the day. Since they had not yet laid him to rest, it was not possible to name the baby after the deceased (as explained in the Zohar), which suggests that the water carrier was one of the hidden tzaddikim.
This story, along with others about the Moharash, teaches us something important about the significance of naming a child after a tzaddik. When one is named after a righteous individual, it is not just the specific tzaddik being referenced who grants blessings, but all tzaddikim who share that name stand behind the scenes and lend their spirit to the newborn. Though our first story connects the Rebbe Moharash to the hidden tzaddik from Plosk, it is interesting to note that other stories link him to none other than the prophet Samuel.
When the Rebbe Moharash was a child, and his father, the Tzemach Tzedek, was called to the Torah to read the haftarah on Rosh HaShanah, the young Moharash stood before his father. As the Tzemach Tzedek recited the haftarah—which describes the birth of the prophet Samuel—and reached the verse, “For this child I prayed,” he pointed with his holy finger at his son, the Rebbe Moharash.
Near the time of his passing, the Rebbe Moharash called his attendant, Reb Leivik, and said, "Leivik, my years are complete, and I am one hundred years old today! In my passport, it says I am fifty-two, but you know my years, and together they total one hundred." After his passing, they checked and indeed found that the passport listed him as being fifty-two years old. The chasidim also understood the deeper meaning of his words—that the prophet Samuel passed away at the age of fifty-two, and together with the Moharash's forty-eight years, the total came to one hundred years.
The chasidim recognized a connection between the Rebbe Moharash and the prophet Samuel, which holds more than just a simple arithmetic lesson. It teaches us something profound about our own lives. To understand how, we can begin by looking at a similar expression mentioned in the Passover Haggadah: “Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah said, ‘Behold, I am like a man of seventy years.’” The Talmud explains that he said this after being appointed as the head of the Sanhedrin at the age of only eighteen. Out of respect for the community that had accepted him as their leader at such a young age, his beard miraculously turned white, and he appeared as if he were seventy. However, the Arizal reveals another layer of meaning behind this statement. Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah was a reincarnation of the prophet Samuel! Since Samuel lived for fifty-two years, adding Rabbi Elazar's eighteen years to those fifty-two totals seventy, thus making him "like a man of seventy."
The chasidim, who knew that one of the reasons for naming the Rebbe Moharash after Samuel the prophet, deduced that the Rebbe Moharash's intention in his own statement also referenced this connection.
When the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneersohn, mentioned Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah's words and the Arizal's explanation, he taught that every individual can learn from this. Most souls in our generation have already come to the world in previous reincarnations. Therefore, when we encounter a task in our service of God that seems beyond our capabilities, we should realize that we can access and integrate the good from our previous incarnations, and this can help us fulfill the task.
But when considering what remains imprinted in our souls from past lives, the question immediately arises: what about the negative aspects from our previous incarnations? After all, many of us have gone through several, not always positive, lifetimes. However, the Rebbe firmly declares that there is no need to focus on these matters. The negative is not an actual reality; it is a concealment of the good that dissolves through teshuvah (or atonement through suffering, and so forth). The time spent in Heaven between one incarnation and another also serves as an atonement. Therefore, the only thing that endures forever is the good within us. Through this good, we can all be "like seventy-year-olds"—young in our current lives but filled with the power and experience of the hidden goodness within our souls.
