“That’s grandpa and me,” said Marina, pointing to an old photograph.
Meet Abram Benyaminovitch Norman.
“Grandpa spoke proudly of a special privilege that he had. It was before World War II, and the city of Rostov was expanding. Someone in the community got word that there were plans to build a new development over the old cemetery. There was a holy rabbi buried there, and they couldn’t let his resting place become desecrated. A group of local Jews, including grandpa, gathered for the daring mission: to relocate the Rebbe Rashab’s grave.
“They met at the cemetery before dawn. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you,” Marina said with a dramatic look in her eyes, “that if they were to get caught, they’d be finished.”
“When they finally arrived at the new cemetery, they witnessed something shocking. While placing it in the grave, the casket opened up. Grandpa said that he saw the Rebbe’s holy body with his very eyes. After all those years, it did not decompose. It was still complete.”