Weekly Dvar Torah: “We Are Not Alone”, The Rebbe’s Voice Echoes Through the Flames

The Jewish world is ablaze.

But this time, the fire is not one of destruction. It’s the fire of clarity, of courage, of a deep and holy euphoria — a fire ignited by the unmistakable revelation of G-d’s hand in the world. From Jerusalem to New York, from Washington to Tehran, the world is trembling. Not with fear, but with awe.

Because we’ve just witnessed the impossible.

The total dismantling of the Iranian nuclear program — once considered the most menacing threat to the civilized world — has stunned everyone. In a lightning-precise operation, Israel, with crucial American partnership, carried out an almost mythic military achievement. In moments, the shadow of annihilation was lifted. The world suddenly felt… safer.

It’s hard not to feel the electric pulse of history repeating itself.

I’m transported back to those tense days of 1991, when Saddam Hussein, drunk with power and rage, threatened to rain chemical-laden missiles on Israel. The world braced for mass death. Gas masks were distributed. People panicked. Governments whispered of apocalypse. And yet, amid the thunder of fear, one voice rose calmly and confidently — the voice of the Rebbe.

With unshakable conviction, the Rebbe reassured the Jewish people: “Eretz Yisrael is the safest place in the world.” He quoted the Midrash: when you hear the Persian king warring with the Arabian king, that is G-d whispering to His children, “My children, do not fear, the time of your redemption has arrived.”

The Rebbe was right. Every word.

And he was right again in urging us not to respond to miracles with silence. He reminded us of the tragic missed opportunity during the time of King Chizkiyahu. When G-d miraculously wiped out the massive Assyrian army of Sancheriv on the night of Pesach — without Israel lifting a finger — the world was saved, but Chizkiyahu failed to sing. Failed to praise. Failed to dance.

Because of that silence, the angels objected: how can one who doesn’t thank G-d properly be crowned as Moshiach? And the dream was deferred. The gates of redemption closed — for millennia.

But not this time.

Because this time, we are singing.

President Trump, announcing the success of the Iran operation, gave credit in order: G-d first, then Israel, then the U.S. military. And Prime Minister Netanyahu, just days after praying at the Kotel for this mission’s success, returned — wrapped in his tallis — to thank G-d in public. There were no Israeli casualties. No excuses. No delays. Just thanks.

And what thanks it was! Open, unashamed, full-hearted. The Rebbe’s vision is finally being fulfilled. After decades of his urging, of his pleading, the world is finally learning to recognize miracles in real time — and respond with Hallel, with joy, with gratitude. This time, we are doing it right.

And how fitting that this is happening just days before Gimmel Tammuz — the 31st anniversary since the Rebbe’s physical passing.

Because anyone with a heart knows: the Rebbe never left.

He is not a memory. He is a presence.

World leaders — Jews and non-Jews alike — more and more flock to his resting place in Queens. They don’t come out of nostalgia. They come for direction. For clarity. For miracles. And they receive them — just ask them. Open miracles. Quiet ones. Personal ones. National ones.

But perhaps the greatest miracle of all is how alive the Rebbe’s voice is. His guidance, his strategy, his warnings, his pleas — all etched in the fabric of our times.

For decades, the Rebbe cried out: “Don’t wait to be attacked! Strike preemptively. Save Jewish lives! Be strong. Don’t cower to world pressure. When you go on the offensive, you set the rules. When you wait, the enemy sets them for you.”

The political class was not always ready to listen. The fear of global opinion weighed too heavily. And the cost, too often, was unnecessary loss of Jewish lives.

But not now. Not this time.

This time, the leaders of Israel and the United States followed the Rebbe’s “playbook.” They refused to bow to pressure. They refused to gamble with Jewish lives. They acted with holy chutzpah. With trust in G-d. And they emerged victorious.

And now, like the Rebbe instructed after the Gulf War in 1991, the people are dancing. Just as he urged us not to repeat Chizkiyahu’s silence, we are lifting our voices and feet — in celebration, in praise, in longing.

Yes — longing. Because even as we dance, we cry.

We cry for the day when the Rebbe will walk among us again in full revealed glory. We cry for a world that is healed, for wars that are no longer needed, for peace that is permanent. We cry — not from pain, but from yearning.

Because if the Rebbe was so right about everything — about Saddam, about Persia, about strength, about miracles, about dancing — how can we not believe him when he declared: “The time of your redemption has arrived”?

That’s what I feel this Gimmel Tammuz.

Not mourning. Not absence. But presence.

The Rebbe walks among us. His tears still wet on our shoulders. His smile still etched in our souls. His voice still echoing in every brave decision made by leaders of conscience and faith.

I feel him more now than ever.

I feel him in the courage of Israel’s generals. I feel him in the words of America’s president. I feel him in the songs of soldiers and schoolchildren. I feel him when I stand in the street and shout Thank You, Hashem! for all the open miracles.

And I feel him when I close my eyes and picture him — eyes burning with holy fire, hand waving urgently, voice thundering with love: “Do not be afraid! The redemption is here! Prepare to greet Moshiach!”

This Gimmel Tammuz, let’s not mourn. Let’s mobilize.

Let’s thank Hashem. Let’s dance in the streets. Let’s scream to the heavens: “Thank You for the Rebbe! Thank You for Your miracles! We’re ready — ready for the final Geulah!”

Let’s make sure that this time, we pass the test. That this time, we do not let a single miracle go uncelebrated. That this time, we sing with all our hearts and hold onto the Rebbe’s promise with all our strength.

Because this time, the fire isn’t burning us. It’s illuminating the path forward.

And leading us home.

Have a Shabbos of dancing with the Rebbe,
Gut Shabbos

Rabbi Yosef Katzman