Some stories start at the end, but it's actually the beginning.
In the Hasidic universe, even Jews in general, there must be few exceptions who do not know that Rebbe Menachem Mendel Schneerson, considered the most influential rabbi in modern history, died on June 12, 1994 .
In his condolences, the then president of the United States, Bill Clinton, described him as a "monumental man" and described him as the one "responsible for promoting the instruction of ethics and morality in our youth". as collected by Joseph Telushkin in his biography titled with one word: Rebbe.
The magnetic leader died and the myth was born.
The Rebbe – so named because he was a Hasidic guide without parion – is credited with having the Chabad movement, known as Lubavitch because of the Russian city where it was founded three centuries ago, expanding globally from the quarters of 770 Eastern Parkway, to the Brooklyn neighborhood of Crown Heights. The place is known simply as 770 and was the scene ten days ago of a confrontation between the men in black suits and hats, and the police over illegal works that sought to connect two rooms between basements.
This incident brought Schneerson, the seventh and last Rebbe, "the best known since Maimonides", writes the biographer, back to the present day. Despite the fact that posters with his photograph and the slogan "the Messiah is here" have been hanging for some time, his popularity on the streets of New York has worsened, even though it annoys the leaders and the majority of Chabads.
In fact, the influence of his creed not only does not decrease, but has increased in these three decades, emphasizes Rabbi Motty Seligson, director of communications for the synagogue. Inside the Jewish community and outside, he insists. That's why he cites the 2017 criminal justice reform in the US as one of his legacies, as it was one of the issues he persevered on in the 1970s and 1980s.
"The movement has grown by 200% since 2001", says Seligson. “Although there is a board for logistical and institutional functioning, the Rebbe is still the leader. He is the guide of our guidelines, teachings and inspiration", he points out. "His job is not the job of an executive director of a company, there is a spiritual connection here," clarifies the spokesperson. The positions can be replaced, the idols, no.
"It is a legend for Jews in general", says Yochonon Donn, a Hasidic journalist who is not part of the Lubavitch "sect". "It is said that everywhere you go there will be Coca-Cola and a Chabad community", he emphasizes. "He has not had a successor because they believe he is irreplaceable", he clarifies.
Donn remembers that, as a teenager, he went to those long lines where the Rebbe gave a dollar to each of the visitors and that with this he "increased the goodness in the world", he says. "He was a charismatic man who inspired people to go everywhere as emissaries", he adds.
Rabbi Seligson was a child and also went to those practices of collective catharsis. He still treasures notes that were given to him by his spiritual referent. "The queues went around the building", he recalls.
It all started on a Sunday in 1986, when Schneerson began the practice that illustrates his legacy. He gave a dollar bill to each visitor. In return, whoever received it had to allocate another to charity, to the cause that each person decided.
"When two people meet, something good has to happen for a third", Telushkin, in the words of the protagonist, summarizes the philosophy behind this initiative.
"Each one spent a while, briefly, with the Rebbe and received the blessing, in addition to the dollar," recounts the biographer. On each day there were 6,000 to 7,000 people. Faced with the expenditure, community leaders asked the leader to recommend that the charity be directed to the institution itself. He replied that no, he would never do that.
As Donn indicates, Schneerson was a very spiritual man, with a great humanistic education. He studied in Berlin and Paris (at the Sorbonne), where he graduated in mechanical engineering, although he never practiced.
He was born in Ukraine on April 18, 1902. He fled the USSR in 1927, heading for Germany. It was in Warsaw and with the irruption of Nazism, in 1940, he managed to arrive in New York, with his wife, Chaya Mushka, daughter of the sixth Rebbe, who had already settled in 770, in Brooklyn. The death of his father-in-law led him to become the seventh Rebbe. This Saturday marked the 73rd anniversary of his ascension.
Described for his marked optimism, once he settled in New York, he only left the city three times, and all three times to travel within the state. He did not go abroad again.
"His popularity and the legacy he left are not without controversy," writes Telushkin, referring to something that is very topical today with the war in the Gaza Strip. "The views on Israel's security and the opposition to any territorial commitment for Israel made it win support but also intense opposition", he postulates.
His death left another controversy. Was he the messiah or not? In his speeches and writings, Schneerson argued that he did not meet the requirements. That doesn't stop a conspiratorial minority from thinking he's coming back or that he didn't even die. These radicals, young people from Israel, are credited with having built a tunnel, without entrusting themselves to anyone, to expand the synagogue, which has become too small, always based on the plans formulated by the leader, and which ended in clashes with the police.
"It's one thing to pray for the messiah, which we do three times a day, and another thing is to identify the messiah," answers Seligson. The dispute goes against the vision of the leader, messenger of the brotherhood of all Jews.
