Weekly Dvar Torah: Thirty-Two Years Later

Longing, Love, and an Unfinished Mission

This Thursday marks thirty-two years since Gimmel Tammuz.

Thirty-two years.

For an entire generation of Chassidim, that number is almost incomprehensible. There are today Shluchim, teachers, community leaders, and thousands upon thousands of Chassidim who were not even born when Gimmel Tammuz occurred. Yet somehow, they speak about the Rebbe as if they know him personally. They study his Torah, follow his directives, visit the Ohel, and dedicate their lives to carrying out his mission.

How is that possible?

And perhaps an even greater question:

How is it possible that after thirty-two years, those of us who knew the Rebbe still miss him so deeply?

If time heals all wounds, why does Gimmel Tammuz still hurt so much?

The answer lies in understanding the extraordinary relationship between the Rebbe and his Chassidim.

The Secret of the Rebbe’s Influence

A French visitor once expressed his amazement to the Rebbe.

“Everywhere I go,” he said, “I meet people who admire you. But it is more than admiration. They love you with tremendous passion. Frankly, I find it somewhat excessive.”

The Rebbe responded with a characteristic smile.

“My love for every Jew is also excessive. Perhaps that is why they send their love back to me.”

In one sentence, the Rebbe explained everything.

People loved the Rebbe because the Rebbe loved them first.

Not in theory.

Not in speeches.

Not as a slogan.

Every Jew mattered to him.

Every Jew.

Whether rich or poor, observant or not yet observant, scholar or beginner, famous or unknown.

The Rebbe carried the concerns of Jews across the world on his shoulders. He prayed for them, worried about them, encouraged them, challenged them, and believed in them far more than they believed in themselves.

That love did not end on Gimmel Tammuz.

And neither did the response to that love.

A Bench on Eastern Parkway

I remember Gimmel Tammuz as if it were yesterday.

The day felt surreal.

Nothing made sense.

We had lived for years with the Rebbe’s constant call that the redemption was imminent. We heard again and again that the world was standing at the threshold of Geulah. We expected to witness the fulfillment of those promises.

And then came Gimmel Tammuz.

On that Sunday morning, I wandered aimlessly along Eastern Parkway dressed in my Shabbos clothes.

I was waiting.

Waiting for Moshiach.

Waiting for someone to tell me this was all a terrible misunderstanding.

As I walked, I noticed my aunt, Rebbetzin Golda Schwei, sitting quietly on a bench.

We looked at one another.

Neither of us needed to explain anything.

Neither of us had words.

Finally she broke the silence.

“אבער מען טאר דאך ניט וויינען.”

“But we are not allowed to cry.”

In that brief sentence was contained the entire struggle of Gimmel Tammuz.

The pain was real.

The longing was real.

Yet somehow, a Chossid is never allowed to surrender to despair.

Reb Mendel’s Response

The following day I saw Reb Mendel Futerfas.

He had come from England and was already elderly and physically weak. A grandchild was helping him walk.

I approached him hoping to find comfort.

Perhaps he would say something that would ease the pain.

Perhaps he would share the tears that all of us were carrying.

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

Neither of us spoke for a long moment.

Then Reb Mendel finally broke the silence.

“אה, מען וועט נאך האבן אויף וואס צו פארברענגען.”

“Oh, we will still have what to farbreng about.”

Only Reb Mendel could say such words at such a moment.

He was not dismissing the pain.

He felt it more deeply than most.

But he was reminding us that the story was not over.

A Chossid never loses hope.

Never.

The Rebbe’s Plan

There are many things in life that seem impossible until suddenly they happen.

For decades, the Iron Curtain imprisoned millions of Jews behind Soviet oppression.

People assumed it would last forever.

Yet the Rebbe never accepted that.

Again and again he spoke about those Jews.

Again and again he raised a l’chaim to their freedom.

Again and again he expressed certainty that the barriers would eventually collapse.

At the time, many thought such optimism unrealistic.

Then the impossible happened.

The Iron Curtain fell.

The gates opened.

Millions of Jews emerged.

My father used to say that believing in Moshiach today is far easier than believing, in those years, that the Soviet Union would one day crumble.

When the Rebbe spoke about Geulah, he was not expressing a wish.

He was describing reality.

If we trusted him then, why should we doubt him now?

Thirty-Two Years Later

Perhaps the greatest testimony to the Rebbe’s continuing leadership is the world itself.

In 1994 many predicted that Lubavitch would gradually disappear.

Without the Rebbe’s physical presence and his charismatic leadership, they argued, the movement could not survive.

The opposite occurred.

Thousands of new Shluchim emerged.

Communities were established in places previously unimaginable.

Schools, Yeshivos, Chabad Houses, Torah classes, mitzvah campaigns, and acts of kindness multiplied across the globe.

Most remarkably, many of those leading the charge today never saw the Rebbe.

Yet they feel connected.

Why?

Because a Rebbe does not live only through memories.

A Rebbe lives through Torah.

A Rebbe lives through mission.

A Rebbe lives through the thousands of lives he continues to transform.

And still, for all the growth and all the accomplishments, there remains an emptiness.

Nothing can replace the Rebbe himself.

Nothing.

Thirty-two years later, the question still echoes from the depths of every sincere Jewish heart:

Ad Mosai?

How much longer?

Long Enough

Thirty-two years is a long time.

Long enough to prove that the Rebbe’s vision cannot be buried.

Long enough to prove that the Rebbe’s love has not diminished.

Long enough to prove that the Rebbe’s mission continues to illuminate the world.

But it is also long enough.

We have studied.

We have built.

We have traveled.

We have taught.

We have inspired.

We have carried the mission forward.

Now we ask for only one thing.

The Rebbe taught us to prepare for Geulah.

The Rebbe taught us that the world is ready.

The Rebbe taught us that redemption is imminent.

So as Gimmel Tammuz approaches once again, we cry out from the depths of our hearts:

Rebbe, enough.

Hashem, Ad Mosai?

May this be the year when longing is transformed into revelation, separation into reunion, and faith into sight.

May we merit immediately to greet Moshiach and celebrate together with the Rebbe once again, face to face, in the complete and everlasting Geulah.

Now.

Have a Shabbos of Connection, Commitment, and Anticipation,
Gut Shabbos,

Rabbi Yosef Katzman