The Unbreakable Light: Rabbi Mendel Futerfas in Siberian Exile

A Prison of Ice and Despair

The Soviet gulag in Siberia was a world carved out of torment. Endless snow, unforgiving cold, and brutal labor stripped men down to something less than human. In that forsaken place, even the strongest bodies crumbled under the weight of hopelessness. Many prisoners survived starvation and disease, yet perished quietly in their sleep. They simply gave up. Their souls surrendered before their bodies did.

Among the prisoners was Rabbi Mendel Futerfas, a Lubavitcher chasid known for his courage, wit, and unshakable devotion to Hashem. Arrested for helping Jews escape the Iron Curtain by forging documents, he was sentenced to years of forced labor in the frozen north. He had not seen his wife or children for fourteen long years.

Yet incredibly, he did not crumble. He did not shrink. Instead, he radiated life. Men who had given up on living found themselves drawn to him, strengthened by him, uplifted by his presence. Even in the darkest hell, he carried a light that refused to be extinguished.

Watching this with fascination was a fellow prisoner, a secular professor. One day, unable to contain his curiosity, he approached Rabbi Mendel with a heartfelt question.

Why Some Men Die and One Man Lives

The professor had been observing the prisoners closely. He noticed a frightening pattern:
Young, strong men would lie down one night and refuse to get up the next morning. Not because of illness. Not from lack of food. But because something inside them had died.

Their will.

He told Rabbi Mendel,
“I have developed a theory. These men lose the will to live. The moment their spirit collapses, their body follows. But you… you are also a prisoner. You also suffer hunger, cold, and endless labor. Yet you only grow stronger. You inspire others. You have a zest for life, a joy that spreads to everyone. Please explain the difference.”

Rabbi Mendel looked at him gently and said,
“Let me tell you something. These men who die so easily, they are called crossaks. A lowlife. For a crossak, life is three things: a horse, a rifle, and a bottle of vodka. That is their entire world.

“When the government brought them here, what happened? Their horse is gone. Their rifle is gone. Their vodka is gone. So in their minds, life is already over. It is only a matter of time before the body listens to the soul, receives the message that it is already dead, and stops fighting.”

The professor nodded, slowly absorbing the idea.

Rabbi Mendel continued,
“But me? When they sent me here, what did they take from me? Did they take my life? Did they take what matters most? No. My life here is not so different from my life back home.”

The professor looked at him with disbelief.
“How can you say that? You worked in an office. You lived with your family. You had freedom. How can any of that compare to this?”

Rabbi Mendel smiled softly.

Serving Hashem in a Place No One Ever Has

He explained,
“Back home, I worked in my office. When the sun began to set, I knew it was time to pray Mincha. So I would go to shul, stand before Hashem, and pray.

“Here, what is different? I am chopping wood instead of sitting in an office. The sun still sets. And I still have to pray Mincha.

“True, I cannot stop working or they will shoot me. There is no shul, no prayer book, no quiet space to concentrate. But while chopping wood, silently in my heart, I pray Mincha.

“And sometimes, I look at the spot where I am standing and think:
In all the thousands of years since Hashem created the world, perhaps no one has ever stood right here and offered praise to the Creator.

“What a privilege that I can serve Hashem from this exact place.”

The professor stared at him, speechless.

Rabbi Mendel said,
“So what did they take from me? Back home I tried to serve Hashem. Here I try to serve Hashem. My essence, my purpose, my life — it remains intact. They cannot take away from a Jew what is truly his.”

The Inner Wealth No One Can Steal

Rabbi Mendel’s words pierced through the icy air. He had lost his freedom, his family, and the comforts of life. Yet he still carried something inside that no prison could break.

He carried meaning.
He carried purpose.
He carried a relationship with Hashem that could not be stolen, no matter what the Soviet regime tried to do.

This was his secret.
This was his survival.
This was why he lived while others perished.

The crossaks lost their world because their world was external. Rabbi Mendel survived because his world was internal, rooted deep within his soul.

A horse can be taken.
A rifle can be taken.
A bottle of vodka can be taken.

But faith cannot be confiscated.
Hope cannot be imprisoned.
The will to serve Hashem cannot be silenced.
A Jewish soul cannot be exiled.

And that is why, in the worst place on earth, he remained fully alive.

What Siberia Could Not Touch

This story from storiestoinspire.org is more than a historical anecdote. It is a spiritual blueprint.

Life can take many things from us. Health, comfort, money, stability, even freedom. But nothing and no one can take away the inner core of a Jew who knows who he is, why he is here, and whom he serves.

Rabbi Mendel’s unbreakable spirit teaches us that true life does not depend on circumstances. It depends on purpose. When a person anchors his identity in Torah, mitzvot, and the constant awareness of Hashem, no exile can defeat him.

His heart remained free because it was anchored in something higher than any earthly prison.

That is the secret of Jewish resilience.
That is the legacy of our ancestors.
And that is the truth that carried Rabbi Mendel through the frozen night of Siberia.

When everything else is taken away, what remains is the one thing that truly defines us.

Our connection to Hashem.

And that connection is eternal.