With a Cargo Van at the Ohel: Part 3

Part 3: Rabbi Shmully Hecht, Senior Chabad Rabbi at Yale, describes his Shabbos Gimmel Tammuz 5779 at the Ohel..

By Shmully Hecht, Senior Chabad Rabbi at Yale

The Ohel on Gimel Tamuz was crowded and the numbers were unprecedented. As individuals, we are often challenged to find our distinct space and individual standing, both literally and conceptually. Yet as Lubavitchers we maintain a collective identity. In unison, we are challenged to fashion the distinct paths on which we all travel. We shape a particular genre and tune within the broader melody performed by many. No different than a single musician in a large orchestra. “Makom Haaron Einoi Min Hamidah,” Reb Moshe quipped with a half-smile on his face. ‘The Holy Ark required a perfect and precise measurement to attain its sacred status in the Temple. So did the Holy of Holies in which it was set. In fact, the Torah delineates their exact dimensions. Yet simultaneously the Talmud tells us, the ark took up no actual space in the Holy of Holies. ‘If you want to fit into this or any tight space Shmully, and actually situate yourself in totality, you must first dissipate into the ether.’

It dawned on me. The conundrum of the Aron challenges the mind to entertain two opposites coexisting. Space and non-space. This is a common theme discussed in Chasidus when describing various manifestations of G-d and his universe. The Archimedes principal explains that buoyancy makes things feel lighter in water, as a solid object displaces liquid of the equivalent size. The key word is feeling lighter, for the weight of the object doesn’t change in water. It only seems that way, as the water pushes the object upward. Newtonian Physics on the other hand discovered that actual weight is indeed relative to its environment. As the gravitational pull recedes, mass actually weighs less. In other words, weight is measured as mass, relative to the gravitational pull of its surroundings. For this reason, on the moon where there is less gravity then on Earth, an object will actually weigh one sixth of what it weighs on Earth. In outer space, a heavy object may even be weightless.

Reb Moshe was using the Meta Universe of the Holy of Holies analogy as a lesson in our practical lives. He was reminding me that only through absolute self-negation can one achieve our true place in the Universe. And it starts right here at the Ohel. The greatest minds and personalities in Chabad were always those most subservient to the Rebbe’s wishes and requests. It made them greater Chasidim, and greater men, for that matter. Precisely because the Ohel was packed was there room for everyone. 

And in Reb Berel’s humble abode we encountered his daughter, Rebetzin Greenberg of Alaska. Despite the myth, her Chabad house is not in an igloo. The Rebetzin and her husband Reb Yoske have founded Chabad centers in a region of the world one wouldn’t imagine ever meeting Jews. Let’s be honest. When is the last time you were sitting at a sheva brochos next to a Jew from Alaska. When my friend, Yale Professor Mark Oppenheimer was writing a book about exotic bar mitzvahs, I expressed that it would only be comprehensive with an Alaskan tale. He actually came to the Ohel to meet the Greenbergs and transcribed it. I told the Rebetzin I would have to visit. Denali that is, and of course Chabad of Anchorage. When we asked Reb Berel to make sense of it all, he simply replied, “We must bring twenty million Jews to the Ohel.”

As a yeshiva bochur, The Rosh as he is known, was the sensation of Yeshivas Eitz Chaim Toronto, Chofetz Chaim Baltimore, Ner Yisroel, and Beit Medrosh Gevoah of Lakewood. He was the prize student of Rav Aron Kotler OBM and learned with his son Rav Schneur Kotler. In Eretz Yisroel he was the wonder mind of Brisk and dialogued with the heads of Mir, Ponovitz, Chebin and Yeshivas Chevron. Having excelled in all the great halls of Talmudic Scholarship he rose to prominence as a Sar Hatorah in Lubavitch. He is among the elder Shluchim, Roshei Yeshivas and Chasidim of the Rebbe. Were the Rosh not a chosid, the Yeshiva world would have long ago crowned him a Gadol Hador.

My brother in law Schneur Zalman Kaplan relayed that on this past Shabos a Jew that lives an hour and a half from Fort Lauderdale showed up in his shul. This Yid grew up in Satmar and left the fold decades ago. Unrecognizable. On the exterior that is. Having heard of Rabbi Kaplan’s Chabad house from another Satmar friend who has assimilated, he decided to attend this one time. Schneur Zalman described how this middle aged Jew visited shul for the first time in forty years. He came up to the Torah with his hands trembling, as he fetched a siddur to refresh himself of the language of the blessings. He grasped the Torah Scroll and cried out Borchi es hashem hamivoirach, in his childhood Hungarisha dialect. The words emanating from the core of his being. This yid had not been called up to the Torah for forty years and remarked on the irony of the fact that when he was young, Satmar fought with Lubavitch. “Loi Yidach memenu nidach,” said Rabbi Kaplan. No Jew will be left behind. Not even the Jews who once frequented Satmar, Mir or Brisk, only to deliberately abandon their parents’ home. They ultimately show up at our centers regularly, and the stories are literally endless.

It was here that the weekend culminated...silently reflecting on the question, what happened to the Rebbe’s assurance of Moshiach’s imminent arrival? A year late, ok. A decade, perhaps. Jews are notoriously late. But what would the neo Misnagdim in Lakewood say if we returned after Shabos and the Golus survived us.  If there was one person that could resolve the community’s dilemma, it was Rabbi Schochet.  Lubavitch has few geniuses. No more or less than anywhere else. Lots of brilliant folk, but prodigies are rare. The Rosh was trapped as we jumped in headfirst. “All courtesy aside,” Levi remarked. ‘This is an urgent time. The meaning of life is on the line Shmully. No time for niceties.’

Can Waze simply be wrong? Waze can see around the globe because satellites and fellow wazers feed the system and extend its line of sight. Trust the computer. Traffic patterns are computed quite simply, assuming of course you have the data. The Rebbe could not be wrong.

“Rabbi Schochet,” I proclaimed, interjecting myself into his farbrengen. “The sun will set in a few hours and it seems like we will be returning next year. It’s time to call the bluff of all the greats. You must call for the resurrection or we are compelled to resign,” I continued. “Enough is enough. Time to crack the great deception.” It was sheer chutzpah and utter disrespect. My mother would have scolded me, and that is an understatement. Yet a farbrengen is a time for honesty and I proceeded. I caught a glimpse of the Holy Rosh’s face as I squinted and caught his eye. The omnipotent Rosh in all his glory.

The Rosh’s response was rather harsh. The truth often is. Consequently, it often falls on deaf ears. We embrace lies because they are comfortable; in every facet of our lives. We often arrive at the truth at the closing argument and verdict of a trial, with the findings relayed by a surgeon, at the ruling at a divorce hearing, in the outcome of an election, and through the shattering words of a eulogy. Truth is also the turning point in every conflict, the resolution of every debate, the liberating inspiration of every social movement, and the climax of every revolution. 

For four hours Rabbi Schochet laid down the law. The vodka flowed at 20 minutes intervals, so I paraphrase as best as I can.

“Heeeeeecht…” the Rosh raged. ‘Who you think you are, making demands of the Creator and testing 3700 years of our survival? Are you worthy of the resurrection and revelation of Mashiach? Why do you assume you are going to show up with petitions and mandates expecting wonders be performed? Enough of your petty frustrations! You have obstructed Justice! Yes, you have hindered the divine order! What have you done to effect change? Have you moved the needle one iota? Have you modified your behavior over the years? Have you for one moment ever gone out of your comfort zone in your service of the Creator? Have you even once done a favor for someone else, selflessly, anonymously, with altruistic love? Why do we assume that we are the heirs to the ultimate revelation of G-d’s infinite kindness when we have pressed the snooze button on the entire ordeal?’

The Rosh elaborated on Chapter 41 of Tanya, The Rebbe’s sichos of 1967, insights of the parshah dealing with the giving of the Torah, interspersed with snippets of bitush, harsh but loving discipline for all of us. He spoke of the importance of the basic daily Chitas and Rambam requirements, davening with kavanah, and ahavas Yisroel, as the melody of Shuvah Hashem Ad Mosai filled the air. The wind crackled through the opening of the tent as a tear-filled Rabbi Schochet reminded us that the revelation was about us. Yes US! Our devotion, Our dedication, Our commitment, Our actions, Our deeds, Our sacrifice, Our transformation, Our personal spiritual metamorphosis. It had nothing to do with G-d or the Rebbe. We were not victims of Golus, we were the culprits. No lifeguard was arriving any time soon. No Boat. No helicopter. Learn to swim really fast my friend. We were compelled to redeem ourselves. It was in our own very hands. ‘This was the final message of the Rebbe, as he proclaimed Ich gib das iber zu eich, I bestow it upon you the Chasidim to complete the sacred mission.’

And at that final hour, as the crowd quietly dispersed, The Holy Chosid Reb Ezra rose from his chair and with the sincerest expression on the face of humanity, he said, “and I speak of course to myself.”

We headed back to the Ohel where the masses were assembling. On the way to the Ohel I passed the grave of my late grandfather Rabbi Yaakov Yehuda Hecht, who was buried as he lived; at the Rebbe’s side. JJ Hecht as he was known, was often described as the Rebbe’s ben Yachid and best friend.

I reminisced how My zeide, with whom I lived for the final five years of his life, often reminded us that we were born on a mountain top. Ashreinu Mah Tov Chelkeinu Umah Naim Goiraleinu

Shabbos was over.

Epilogue:

Two score and five years ago the sun set over the horizon and darkness descended upon the world. Entering this twilight of History, we were individually empowered to restore the everlasting flame of the Universe. Each and every time we ignite a spark, our own, and that of others, we illuminate our nocturnal existence and propel the great luminary back over the perpetual landscape of time. Blessed are we, children and disciples of the Holy Rebbe of Lubavitch, eternally revered and loved by all.