The Rebbe’s Letter That Was Also Addressed “To The Entire Family”

Just as Shabbos was arriving in Coral Springs, FL, Rabbi Yankie Denburg posted a message to his community following the discovery of a letter the Rebbe sent to Rabbi Chaim Shmuel Rabin OBM 51 years ago.

I have a dear friend, Rabbi Moshe Rabin, whom I study Talmud with every Sunday morning. His father, who lived in England, passed away this past Friday at the very moment the Shabbat candles were being lit.

He was sitting Shiva in England and decided to look at a folder full of letters and notes his father had received from the Rebbe during his lifetime.

In the pile was the following letter from 1973, dated “Zayin Adar Rishon” – which is the exact date on the Hebrew calendar (including being the first month of two Adar’s in a leap year) when his father passed away.

The letter first addresses his father, but then on the following line, all on its own, are the additional words: “and to the entire family”.

The real wow factor is not just the date, but the content of the letter, which reads as follows:

“I was pained to hear about the passing of (your father) the righteous person, the G-d fearing man, the beloved one, the exalted one, etc. Moshe, peace unto him.”

The letter then offers the traditional blessing of comfort given to mourners, followed by the Rebbe’s personal blessing that from now onwards only good and kindness shall find the family all their days.

This letter of comfort written by the Rebbe to their father on the loss of his father, is amazing to read considering that it is addressed to the ENTIRE Rabin family, and that it was written on the exact day that their father would pass away 51 years later.

Before I offer my thoughts on this Divine “coincidence”, let me first point out that the 7th day of Adar is special for another reason: it is the day that Moses passed away in the desert.

Yet, it’s shocking to observe that from the beginning of the Book of Exodus when Moses is born, until his death in the end of Deuteronomy, his name is mentioned, often as many as several dozen times, in every single Parshah.

There is only one single exception. This week’s Torah reading of Tetzaveh is the only week in which the word “Moses” does not appear even once.

Yet, this is the reading that you would assume should be most saturated with Moses’ name. After all, in the annual Torah-reading cycle, Tetzaveh is almost always read on the Shabbat closest to the 7th of Adar – the day of both his birth and his death.

How could it be that the day most closely related to the life of Moses is the one single week when we don’t read his name?

It’s important to clarify that in no way is Moses absent from the storyline of this week’s reading. Quite the contrary, Tetzaveh consists entirely of G‑d’s ongoing communication to Moses regarding the Menorah, making the priestly garments, and the Sanctuary’s inauguration. In fact, the only Temple service that was performed by Moses himself and not his brother Aaron was these inaugural offerings.

Not only is Moses the main actor of this week’s reading despite his name never being mentioned; the opening words of the Parsha are addressed by G-d directly to Moses. “And you (i.e. Moses) shall command the children of Israel to bring you pure olive oil… to bring a light (upon the Menorah)”.

On the surface, Moses’ presence seems to be diminished – his name does not appear in the text. However, he is the subject of its very first word: “and you”. You is a word that expresses a truer, and deeper reference to Moses than any name could ever be.

So why indeed is his name missing, and what does that tell us?

It’s known that the words of a righteous person, even when expressed conditionally, always have an effect. Thus, the Baal HaTurim explains that since when the people sinned with the Golden Calf and Moses begged G-d to forgive the Jews, he also gave G-d an ultimatum: “Forgive them or erase me from Your book.”

Even though the people were ultimately forgiven, Moses’ request was fulfilled through the omission of his name in the weekly reading near the day of his passing, because it is specifically the sacrifice he was prepared to make for the Jews that reveals his true greatness.

The ultimate “you” of a Rebbe, his truest, most quintessential self, is one willing to forgo his personal honor and his hard-earned place in the Torah because of his even greater love, care and devotion for his people. It is this “you” that the Torah recognizes and expresses in the opening words of our Parsha.

The “Mosesless” section of Tetzaveh reminds us that names are merely the means by which we can be identified by others. But names say nothing about our truest, deepest self. Our soul, our essence, is way more than a name.

I will let you decide how to internalize the fact that the “entire family” of Michael Rabin A”H found this letter of condolence dated with the date of their father’s passing.

However, one message is clear. Physical limitations of time and space are only limitations for us human creatures, living a physical reality on a tangible earth. Our souls are not limited, or easily defined by names.

This is true for us living people who sometimes forget that our truest identity is not our body nor our title; but our soul.

This is even more obviously true about our loved ones who are no longer called by name. Since they are now in Heaven, we interact with their inner core, with their true spiritual identity.

Which is why our loved ones can still communicate with us from beyond the grave.

Which is why our Rebbe can still be our Rebbe, and still guide us, inspire us, and express his love and care for us with a letter written in 1973.

Only our bodies are limited. Our souls are eternal; our true selves transcend the limitations of this earth.

We can live forever.

Good Shabbos!