My Chassidic Ancestors, Harry & Anna Schwam

The photo above is the corner grocery store, owned by my great uncle Harry Schwam, in Sheboygan, Wisconsin (about 40 miles from my home town of Fond du Lac). As a child, I remember visiting Uncle Harry with great fondness. Uncle Harry, who lived in the humble apartment above his store, seemed like the richest man in the world to me -- because he had a freezer full of Eskimo Pie ice-cream bars. And, every time I came to visit, he reached in and handed me one.

It was only after his death in 1972, that I came to fully appreciate the depth of his soul. By that time, I was a graduate student in Berkeley, California, and had not seen Uncle Harry in many years. However, I can never forget the day I awoke from a dream I had of him of such emotional power that I was crying and singing at the same time. The song I was singing was a Jewish melody, Avinu Malkeinu, that is generally sung only on the Jewish high holidays of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kuppur.

I was so moved by this experience that I immediately wrote home, asking "How is Uncle Harry? I had a dream about him." Three days later, after my letter had arrived, my mother phoned, with a question of her own, "How did you know that Uncle Harry had just died?"

That was the beginning of a very profound journey for me. I puzzled over that experience. It moved me so greatly, that I knew I had to understand it more deeply -- and my entire life's work exploring spirituality, metaphysics and the paranormal has been the result.

I asked my relatives if I could have some momento from Uncle Harry. And, within a few weeks, my aunt Jeanette sent me a Yiddish book with a note saying that it had been Uncle Harry's favorite book. I took it to the local Chabad-Lubavitch rabbi in Berkeley for some translation. And, to my surprise, I discovered that it was the Tales of the Baal Shem Tov, the mystical founder of the Jewish Chassidic movement.

This was a revelation to me. I always knew that Uncle Harry was a very pious Jew. But, growing up in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, I was taught nothing, whatsoever, of the mystical side of Judaism. To the contrary, I was always taught that Judaism was a very rational religion. One god.

Actually, Uncle Harry was born near the town of Lubavitch, and -- undoubtedly -- was raised in a very Chassidic environment. The word "Chassidic" refers to righteousness. He and my father's mother, Anna Schwam, were orphaned as children and raised separately.

Only later did I learn that my father's mother, Anna Schwam Mishlove, had actually studied torah with Joseph Isaac Schneersohn, the man who became a great Lubavitch rabbi (or rebbe) in the town of Lubovitch, where she was raised. It's an unusual story, since women were not permitted to do this. But, she was allowed to sit outside the door while the rebbe taught the boys.

My aunt Jeanette told me the story of how, on one occasion in the 1940s, she and her mother took a train from Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, to Chicago, to attend a gathering where Rabbi Schneersohn was scheduled to speak. It was held in a kosher restaurant, and they waited patiently outside the banquet room for the great rabbi to emerge. When he came out and saw my grandmother, he gave her a big hug. This was quite unusual, Aunt Jeanette explained, for the Chassidic rabbis were not allowed to touch women.

Several years ago, in Los Angeles, I had another experience of contacting Uncle Harry. I was attending Yom Kippur services at UCLA, conducted by Rabbi Zalman Schachter who had been ordained by rabbi Joseph Isaac Schneersohn. I was fortunate to be seated with Rabbi Schachter's family, since I was a close friend of his mother-in-law, Sheba Penner. On that occasion, during the singing of Avinu Malkeinu, Zalman actually had the whole congregation dancing in the aisles (a major contrast to the somber occasion of this moment in most synagogues). It was then that I had an experience of the heavens opening up to me briefly. I felt surrounded by a white light. I felt then, once more, the blessed presence of Uncle Harry and my other Chassidic ancestors. It was as if they, in their own dimension, were also worshipping with us.

In academic discourse, there is a word that captures such experiences. It is called numinous. It is not a word well understood in our culture -- yet. But, I think it is a word we should all endeavor to learn more about.



As an undergraduate student at the University of Wisconsin, I learned that the school's motto, inscribed on the seal of the University, is "Numen Lumen." The official meaning of this motto is: "The divine within the Universe, however manifested, is my light." It's a wonderful motto -- and I hope that it is taken to heart by scholars everywhere.