On January 1, 2006, after spending Chanukah spreading light in Montana, I arrived in San Antonio to date my soon-to-be-bride, Chavie Block. Each date lasted four or five hours and took us to every possible attraction in the area: the Riverwalk, the Botanical Gardens, the Alamo, the Enchanted Springs Ranch, the San Antonio Museum of Art, the La Cantera outdoor mall, and many picturesque lobbies. As a Brooklyn kid who went to wonderful frum schools, my knowledge of American history was subpar, and although my mother did teach me many stories from American history, I didn’t know much about the Battle of the Alamo, but what I learned was fascinating and inspiring and has a lesson for us all.
Just to recap, in December of 1835, in the early stages of the Texas Revolution, which was the rebellion of the American colonists and Hispanic Texans against the centralist government of Mexico, a group of Texan volunteers overwhelmed the Mexican soldiers at the Alamo and captured the fort, seizing control of San Antonio. Sam Houston, who was the newly appointed commander-in-chief of the Texan forces, felt that San Antonio should be abandoned, but the Alamo’s defenders disagreed and prepared to defend the fort. These defenders, who despite later reinforcements never numbered more than two hundred, included Davy Crockett, the famous warrior and former congressman from Tennessee who had arrived in early February of 1836.
On February 23, a Mexican force led by General Antonio López de Santa Anna began a siege of the fort. The Texans held out for thirteen days, but on the morning of March 6, Mexican forces broke through a breach in the outer wall of the courtyard and overpowered them, killing almost all the soldiers, including Crockett. From March to May, Mexican forces once again occupied the Alamo.
For the Texans, the battle of the Alamo became a symbol of courageous resistance and a rallying cry in their struggle for independence. On April 21, 1836, Sam Houston and some eight hundred Texans defeated Santa Anna’s Mexican force of fifteen hundred men at San Jacinto (near the site of present-day Houston), shouting “Remember the Alamo!” as they attacked. The victory ensured the success of Texan independence. Santa Anna, who had been taken prisoner, came to terms with Houston to end the war. In May, Mexican troops in San Antonio were ordered to withdraw and to demolish the Alamo’s fortifications as they went.
Lieutenant Colonel William B. Travis wrote the following letter from The Alamo before being killed:
Commandancy of the The Alamo
Bejar, Feby. 24th. 1836
To the People of Texas & All Americans in the World
Fellow Citizens & compatriots
I am besieged, by a thousand or more of the Mexicans under Santa Anna—I have sustained a continual Bombardment & cannonade for 24 hours & have not lost a man. The enemy has demanded a surrender at discretion, otherwise, the garrison are to be put to the sword if the fort is taken—I have answered the demand with a cannon shot & our flag still waves proudly from the walls—I shall never surrender or retreat. Then, I call on you in the name of Liberty, of patriotism & everything dear to the American character, to come to our aid with all dispatch. The enemy is receiving reinforcements daily & will no doubt increase to three or four thousand in four or five days. If this call is neglected, I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible & die like a soldier who never forgets what is due to his own honor & that of his country—Victory or Death.
William Barret Travis.
Lt. Col. comdt.
- S. The Lord is on our side. When the enemy appeared in sight, we had not three bushels of corn. We have since found in deserted houses 80 or 90 bushels and got into the walls 20 or 30 head of Beeves.
Travis
I love history, but that’s not why I’m sharing this tale. I am sharing it because we are currently seeing a similar expression of determination and resilience with our brothers and sisters serving in the IDF in defense of Israel. We are experiencing daily losses, new families are burying their loved ones and sitting shivah daily. The heart breaks, the mind cannot comprehend—yet on we fight. We don’t surrender to evil. For us civilians, it’s hard to fully comprehend this level of sacrifice, devotion of heart, soul, and body, but it’s real and awe-inspiring. As I write this, my nephew Sholom is serving in Gaza. He’s just a twenty-year-old bachur from Miami who with mesiras nefesh unlike anything I’ve seen in my lifetime, is fighting for his people, for our beloved Am Yisrael. I always read about mesiras nefesh in the history books of Chassidim in Russia, in stories about Jews during the Inquisition, or about Yidden during the Babylonian exile, but to see it with my own eyes is extraordinary.
Everything is Divine Providence, hashgachah pratis, and it turns out that I was rediscovering The Alamo during the week of Purim Katan, the 14 of Adar 1, which will be celebrated this Friday. It was on Purim Katan in 1992, thirty-two years ago, when I was just ten years old that I received a little Kuntres booklet from the Rebbe, zt’l, just two weeks before he experienced a debilitating stroke while standing and davening at the Ohel, from which he never recovered, and which led to his passing some two years later in June of 1994.
I cherish the booklet, as it was the last time the Rebbe handed me anything. And like many Chassidim, I consider it to be his last will and testament, his parting message to me. The booklet contains a deep and practical Chassidic discourse that is based on our Torah portion, Tetzaveh:
The parashah begins with the words “And you shall command the children of Israel, and they shall take to You pure olive oil, crushed for lighting, to kindle the lamps continually.” One of the ideas the Rebbe emphasized is that to truly be a proper lamp, a source of illumination, the oil must be crushed. When a Jew in the exile of galus feels crushed from the mere fact that Mashiach has not come yet, that crushed feeling leads to the greatest internal illumination, connection to Hashem, and ultimately to the coming of Mashiach, the redemptive state of the universe. The awakening that transpires from the crush is huge.
The Rebbe discusses many vital details in that discourse, including the difference between the nisyonos, spiritual challenges, of wealth versus poverty, the uniqueness of having a Mordechai or Moshe to help us kindle our inner flame, the story of Purim and the state of Jewry in that era, but to me it will always be the reminder that the crush is what leads us to become stronger, purer, and brighter. It was like he was telling us that his physical body would soon be leaving this world, it will be hard for us, galus will feel unbearable, Klal Yisrael will endure unspeakable hardships, but the crush, the adversity, will make us stronger. Like those fighters at the Alamo we don’t surrender, we don’t back down, we call in the reserves, we unite, and in the end we succeed. Some groups back down when under attack, but Am Yisrael recharges, regroups, and shines brighter than ever before in places we’ve never shined before, and the results speak for themselves.
Part of winning the war on exile, being super bright even in the darkest moments before redemption, is to go above and beyond the duty in sharing the light, even in the most unexpected places. Last week, as Kansas City was battling San Francisco for the Super Bowl title, we hosted a special celebration, Super Soul, at our Chabad Center for Bozeman’s homeless population. Forty or so homeless men and women came by to enjoy a five-star kosher dinner, get haircuts from a local barber, watch the game, and head back to the shelter with warm clothing for the brutal winter. During half-time, my chavrusa, Chaim, called from New York and I was able to share a dvar Torah for a group of yeshiva bachurim who didn’t want to watch the inappropriate half-time show. It was a Kiddush Hashem on steroids. My children and I had the chance to speak to each of the homeless souls, making them feel at home, asking them who they were rooting for, and ensuring that they knew we were Jewish and this is what Jews do.
This was Hashem’s work for a true tikkun olam to bring Mashiach.
The next morning, Monday, I attended a luncheon for the local branch of the Kiwanis International to discuss what it’s like to be a Jew in America today and to share our history and relationship with Israel. Kiwanis is a civic organization, and I was able to educate them with humor, Torah wisdom, and basic history. It’s not like Chavie and I don’t have enough going on, but when trying to make victory happen, when trying to bring Mashiach, when working in a post-October 7 world when we are feeling crushed, we don’t only survive and get by, but we fight stronger, we shine brighter, and we do more to illuminate the darkness and bring our message of kedushah (holiness) to everyone that is willing to receive it. We seek to inspire the boy in cheder, the homeless woman cheering on the 49rs, and the elderly retired judge at a local luncheon.
Later that week I stopped by the UPS store to ship a few dresses back to a frum kids’ clothing store in New York (a common activity when you live far away from frum communities), and one of the homeless people from the party, Jamal, said out loud to the owner of the store, “Hey boss, that’s the fellow who made us the Super Bowl party.” Jamal was one of the participants. He works at the UPS store, yet is still homeless. I said, “Hey brother Jamal, how ya doing?” Everyone on line to check out seemed surprised to see a Jewish rabbi and black cashier chatting like old friends, and that’s the victory right there. We don’t hide our Judaism. We share it more and more: more publicly, more clearly, more visibly with the hope the world receives the light.
The olive has been crushed; it hurts a lot, but now the oil is ready to shine like never before.
Rabbi Chaim Bruk is co-CEO of Chabad Lubavitch of Montana and spiritual leader of The Shul of Bozeman. For comments or to partner in our holy work, e-mail rabbi@jewishmontana.com or visit JewishMontana.com/Donate.
