My grandfather was born in little town of Letichev, in the Province of Podolia, in the Land of the Ukraine, in the cradle of the Chassidic world. In the neighboring town of Medzhibozh, there was a remarkable cemetery, which still exists -- somehow surviving the Nazi devastation of the region. In this cemetery lies the grave of Yisrael (Israel) ben Eliezer, better known as the Baal Shem Tov, or “The Besht”, the founder of Chassidism.

Not far form the Baal Shem Tov’s grave is a tombstone from 1865 with the inscription, “Here lies Rabbi Yisrael Mes [The Dead Israel] who died while still alive.” It is a strange inscription, with an even stranger story.

After the Baal Shem Tov passed away, it became the custom of the Jews of Medzhibozh to not name a newborn son Yisrael, because of the sanctity of the Besht’s name. As sometimes happens, a superstition became associated with the custom. It was said that a child who was given the name Yisrael would not live out his years.

It came to pass that the Besht’s granddaughter, Feiga, gave birth to a boy. Soon thereafter, the Besht appeared in a dream to his daughter, Udel, who was Feiga’s mother, asking that the child be named after him. Udel shared this with Feiga, but Feiga refused, not wanting to risk the child’s life. Udel, however, was determined to fulfill her father’s request, and on the day of the Bris, when the cantor called out, “And his name shall be called in Israel…,” Udel stood up and called out, “YISRAEL.” The cantor repeated the name after her and so it remained, against Feiga’s wishes.

Three days later, the child died. Feiga took her dead child and brought him to her mother. Placing the child in front of Udel, she cried, “Mother! You are to blame for my baby’s death! Here he is. Do with him as you wish!” Udel picked up the child, carried him to the cemetery, and put him down on the Besht’s grave, crying, “Father! You ordered me to name the child after you, and now he is dead. Take him back. He’s yours!” She stood there crying for a long time, and then returned home.

It snowed all through the night. In the morning, when the undertaker went outside, he heard a baby’s cry coming form the cemetery. He followed the voice until he reached the Besht’s grave. There he found the crying infant—alive!

The town was in an uproar. Feiga came running as fast as she could and took her child, who was healthy and unharmed. For this reason, the child, Yisrael, was called “Yisrael Mes” [The Dead Israel]. He lived to the age of 100 and was buried not far from his great-grandfather, Yisrael, the Baal Shem Tov.

There are many interpretations and layers of meaning to this story. For me, it means that we cannot abandon what it means to be “Israel” to past generations, because we perceive them as more saintly than ourselves. We cannot abandon being Yisrael merely because we don’t feel knowledgeable enough or because of inconvenience. Neither can we abandon being Yisrael because of the superstitions that previous generations may have handed to us along with their treasured customs nor because their faith was perhaps stronger than our own. Each generation must define for itself what it means to be Yisrael. Each of us can be—indeed we are all—Yisrael. Yisrael Chai—The Living Israel.