The third of Tammuz is the Rebbe’s 29th yahrzeit.
I find it hard to believe that it’s been almost three decades since my beloved Rebbe, my guide, my family soul doctor, my hero, passed away. I vividly remember that Sunday morning, and it still evokes in me so many feelings and raw emotions. I shared a bedroom with my younger brother Yanky, and my parents came in at around 4:30 in the morning, woke us up, and said, “We have to share some really bad news … The Rebbe passed away.”
We cried, we were shocked, we were lost. Could it be? Could the Rebbe who guided us for 40 years and brought so much life to our childhood be physically gone, just like that? We knew that he had been sick since his stroke in March of 1992, just over two years before his passing. We prayed for his refuah sheleimah, for a miracle of a full recovery, but it was supposed to end with Mashiach coming and even with him possibly being Mashiach! How was it possible that he passed away?
Earlier in the night, at around 1:00 a.m. on motzaei Shabbos, the message “Baruch Dayan HaEmes” spread via the Chabad “beeper” system. It was the beeper alert that changed the world forever; the shepherd of Klal Yisrael, who, with sensitivity and love, reached tirelessly for every neshamah, with a pure recognition of its shining soulfulness, had passed away, and we were orphaned. As I walked down Kingston Avenue to 770 with my parents that morning, we were all in a daze. We had the opportunity to walk by the Rebbe’s study, “Gan Eden Ha’Elyon,” where his holy body lay on the floor wrapped in a white sheet, and we asked for mechilah, for his forgiveness on anything we may have done or said that was disrespectful.
I still tear up when thinking of that moment, as I see my 12-year-old self mourning and aching for a loss we never expected. Later, we watched from the fourth floor of 770 as the Rebbe’s coffin made its way from Brooklyn to his resting place in Queens.
It was so very painful.
Yet, despite the pain, the confusion, the uncertainty, even though so many in the Jewish world were eager to write our obituary, we are still alive and kickin’. No, I am not in denial. I recognize the challenging balance of the Rebbe being physically gone yet continuing to guide, inspire, and remain connected to his flock. Tens of thousands of Chassidim will be at the Rebbe’s Ohel this week to daven and ask him to intercede on our behalf and to reconnect with the soul of our mentor. We will reignite our yearning for Mashiach and for the world to reach that pinnacle moment. I meet shluchim and shluchos all the time who were born after the Rebbe passed away, including one of the shluchim couples in Montana, who spend their entire life devoted to the Rebbe’s worldview and to bringing neshamos home to their Father in Heaven.
This past Shabbos we hosted 20 out-of-town guests for the Shabbos meals, in addition to our locals. They were from New York, Los Angeles, Arizona, Atlanta, Israel, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania. Sweet brothers and sisters of different backgrounds, some super-frum, while others totally secular. We had a great Shabbos dinner together and an awesome Shabbos lunch. For seudah shlishis, which in Bozeman takes place at around 8:45 p.m. (Shabbos ended at 10:14), five of the guest yeshiva students joined us. Four of them are students at Lander College and one at Yeshiva University. They were smart, learned, respectful, some Sephardi and others Ashkenazi, and I enjoyed my conversation with them.
While munching on Chavie’s delicacies, we discussed many fascinating topics, like the history of Persian Jewry and their escape with the Rebbe’s help in 1979; whether matzah is Hamotzi or mezonos; how to do “kiruv” in 2023 (one of them works for NCSY); whether it’s possible to go through medical school as a kohen; Zionism and Chabad and the complexities of loving the people and land of Israel and disagreeing wholeheartedly with its modernized anti-Torah ideology; and issues related to Modern Orthodoxy and Rav Shamshon Rafael Hirsch. In addition, we discussed the recurring questions that we get regarding kosher living in Montana. “How do you get kosher food?” “Can you get bread locally?” “What about dairy?” “Do you eat chalav stam?”
I answer all the questions often and patiently, but it’s amazing to see the natural reactions on people’s faces when I tell them what we do. Most frum Jews from the primary Jewish communities have a hard time wrapping their heads around the fact that, though living in rural America, our family and all four families of shluchim in Montana only eat pas Yisrael, bishul Yisrael, and chalav Yisrael. We don’t advertise that these are our standards or demand it of humanity, but when asked, we respond comfortably that we don’t rely on various heterim, legitimate as they may be, but recognize that everything that enters our bodies, everything that becomes our blood and flesh, should be assessed not just for its kosher status but for its spiritual nourishment and spirit that it brings to our life.
This week, as I commemorate the Rebbe’s life, I am grateful for so many aspects of the Rebbe and what he did for the world. Personally, I am grateful to him for instilling in us a natural devotion to the most observant form of halachah. The Rebbe emphasized for us not just the basic halachic perspective of a specific issue, but the spirit and spirituality behind it, the reason for doing it, the mysticism behind it and how powerfully it affects our life, and why it should be done on the highest possible level. He allowed us to see that chalav Yisrael is a vital component to ensure that our minds and hearts remain clear without any obstacles of “timtum ha’moach v’ha’lev.” He allowed us to see that eating and drinking in the sukkah, even water and even when it’s raining and snowing, is a form of expressing our devotion to Hashem and the embrace that He provides a Yid in the sukkah. He allowed us to see that eating only non-gebrokts on Pesach is a way to connect with a higher level of spirituality in which even a remote possibility of chametz, of arrogance and personal leavening, is off the table. He didn’t do it by putting anyone down, ever, just by lifting us up. It didn’t feel like an overburdening chumra, just a different way of seeing the mitzvah experience.
Not everyone agrees with the specifics of his approach, nor do they have to, but it should be universally encouraged that the spiritual components behind each kosher item we consume, behind each life detail that we experience, behind each decision we make in life, is important and perhaps even vital. The Ben Ish Chai in his response Rav Pe’alim has a similar approach and it’s refreshing in his writing, too.
The Rebbe made us see these experiences as basic, foundational, unbreakable, and non-negotiable, but without the fear factor or overbearing religiosity. When a couple moves out to their post, out of the big city, they will have to import kosher meat, they must ensure there’s kosher fish, they need to make sure they have all their necessities, and they also need to make sure they have a plan to import chalav Yisrael dairy, Pas Yisrael bread and pretzels, bishul Yisrael tuna, and everything else that makes a kosher home the special haven that it is. He educated us to see it as a given, and for that I am grateful. It isn’t a struggle because the other options aren’t even on the radar to put it into question.
Every kehillah has its minhagim and it’s not my role to question them. I firmly believe in “Eilu v’eilu divrei Elokim chaim;” we each have our path to connect with Hashem and we must respect the gedolim and poskim in each community. Yet, as I reflect on my life, my mission, my community, my Rebbe, I can’t help but express gratitude for my lot in life, singing in my heart, “Ashreinu mah tov chelkeinu,” that I was gifted with an understanding that making it easier isn’t necessarily the best option; making it more meaningful is way better. He taught me to see why we should go the extra mile for our soul, for our spiritual well-being, and for that I say, “Thank you, dear Rebbe.”
Rabbi Chaim Bruk is co-CEO of Chabad Lubavitch of Montana and spiritual leader of The shul of Bozeman. For comments or to partner in our holy work, e-mail rabbi@jewishmontana.com or visit JewishMontana.com/Donate.
