This is the first of a three-part tribute to the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of saintly memory, whose 19th Yartzeit will take place June 11.
To talk about the Lubavitcher Rebbe in the wistful, reminiscing tones of a retrospective would be a tragic paradox. Imagine invoking pacifism in the name of Winston Churchill.
The Rebbe, whose praise and accomplishments could and does fill volumes, wanted none of it. He wanted only three things: Action, action and action. It’s as if the Rebbe knew that inertia is the Achilles’ Heel of our era and prescribed perpetual motion as an antidote.
Thus the Rebbe would probably not be in favor of emotionally indulgent, nostalgic write-ups that emphasize what happened, and not what has to happen.
Having said that, let us talk about this saintly, lovely, giant of a man, and what it is he so urgently wanted, and surely continues to want, from his Chassidim, and anyone who would listen to him.
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I don’t know the Rebbe’s earliest memory of me. But I know my earliest memory of the Rebbe.
On special occasions, the Rebbe held public Farbrengens. These were traditional gatherings of Chassidic inspiration, featuring 10% singing, 10% L’chaims, and 80% the Rebbe addressing the assembled. The large hall had three levels: The balcony, the stage, and the floor. The balcony was for the women. The stage was for the Rebbe and the senior Chassidim and the Rebbe’s secretariat. And the floor was for the men. But interestingly, on the stage, closer to the Rebbe than anyone else there, there were the children. They sat on the floor of the balcony, out of sight of the crowd but crowding to within inches from the Rebbe’s chair (and closer).
I don’t know how old I was when my father once sent me up to sit with the children. I must have been very young because all I remember from sitting there among the children is crying that I want to go back to my father, and being passed overhead, crowd-surfing style, until I was returned to his spot on the floor, jammed between 5,000 men.
***
That the children sat closest to him was one of the unique features of the Rebbe and his “style.”
Interestingly, the Rebbe had a public demeanor that was so elegant and majestic, that it made him almost unapproachable. People were literally awestruck by his gaze.
(A famous Ukrainian diamond magnate said that when he first met the Rebbe, it was at a Farbrengen, and the Chassidim who brought him warned him that he might be overwhelmed when he came face-to-face with the Rebbe. He scoffed at the notion, assuring them they had nothing to worry about. A few minutes later, he approached the Rebbe and stood there speechless, unable to utter a word. Eventually he mumbled in Ukrainian that he was having problems talking and the Rebbe smiled, “It’s okay, talking is not important; doing is important.” Classic Rebbe.)
And yet the Rebbe was comfortable with literally anyone. Great Rebbes, Chief Rabbis, political leaders, billionaires, journalists, hippies, skeptics, any man or woman, Jew or non-Jew, adult or child. He put on no airs and maintained the same sincerity in any company.
The Rebbe was as earnest with the children as he was the adults and as frank with the adults as he was with the children.
***
There is a lesson here to be learned about the value of being real. A person with true convictions and beliefs wouldn't change it based on who they’re engaging. You cannot change your agenda for convenience sake when your agenda is rooted in your soul.
The Rebbe spoke to everyone with the same consistent message. He spoke it differently, using appropriate words for the individual, but the message was always the same.
And maybe, because the Rebbe was true to his message, it attracted the millions of hearts and minds who found in it inspiration, guidance and comfort.
Good Shabbos!