Chabad’s Lost Messiah - part 2

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IV

One might think that the unambiguous determinism of the Rebbe’s worldview
would pacify his followers, granting them the confidence and faith
required to wait patiently and quietly for the approaching salvation. Such
a view, however, reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of the messianic
mindset. As Max Weber noted, it is frequently the deterministic beliefs
that give rise to the most vigorous forms of activism—and all the more so
in the case of messianic movements.34 Chabad is no exception. Indeed, the
scope of its activities in the second half of the twentieth century is
without precedent in Jewish history. Even some of the movement’s harshest
critics, such as David Berger, have been forced to admit as much:
With the possible exception of Bar Kochba, about whom we know very
little, Judaism has never had a serious messianic candidate with the
curriculum vitae of the Rebbe of blessed memory. Virtually all the
accolades heaped upon him by the messianists are true: He established a
worldwide empire of followers, spread Orthodox Judaism to places where
it had never been known, energized Jewish education, led substantial
numbers of irreligious Jews to observance, and much more.35
The Lubavitchers see these impressive achievements as clear, tangible
signs that their Rebbe was indeed the messiah. In fact, Chabad’s ambitious
endeavors may have been designed expressly to convey this idea.36 The
history of religion is replete with individuals who sought to authenticate
their messianic status by fulfilling the particular expectations of their
religious traditions. Jesus, for example, ordered his disciples to provide
him with a donkey on which he could ride into Jerusalem, in fulfillment of
the biblical prophecy: “All this was done,” explains Matthew in his
Gospel, “that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophet
[Zechariah], saying: ‘Tell ye the daughter of Zion, Behold, thy King
cometh unto thee, meek, and sitting upon an ass, and a colt the foal of an
ass.’”37 In a similar vein, Shlomo Molcho, a sixteenth-century kabbalist
who believed he was destined to be the messiah, sat for a month at the
gates of Rome in the company of lepers and other outcasts, since the
Midrash maintains that such will be the act of the future redeemer.38
Indeed, one searching for a blueprint for the recognition of the Jewish
messiah will have no trouble finding it: It is outlined in Maimonides’s
majestic work Mishneh Torah (“The Second Law”), considered the most
authoritative source on Jewish messianism.39 Near the end of the section
dealing with the laws of kings, he writes:
If there arise a king from the house of David who meditates on the
Torah, occupies himself with the commandments, as did his ancestor
David, observes the precepts prescribed in the written and the oral law,
prevails upon Israel to walk in the way of the Torah and repair its
breaches, and fights the wars of the Lord, it may be assumed that he is
the messiah. If he does these things and succeeds, rebuilds the
sanctuary on its site, and gathers the dispersed of Israel, he is beyond
all doubt the messiah. [He will prepare the whole world to serve the
Lord with one accord, as it is written: “For then will I turn to the
peoples in a pure language, that they may all call upon the name of the
Lord to serve him with one consent” (Zephaniah 3:9).]40
This text is of the utmost importance to Chabad. Maimonides’s stipulations
are mentioned numerous times by the Rebbe in his speeches as well as in
various Chabad publications issued both before and after his death.41 It
seems fair to conclude that the Rebbe made a conscious effort to conduct
himself and his movement in accordance with the “instructions” given in
the Mishneh Torah, believing that doing so would both fulfill his
messianic destiny and validate it in the eyes of his own community and the
entire world.
The first Maimonidean requirement, that the messiah be a “king from the
house of David,” posed no problems for Chabad: The Rebbe was indeed
believed to be a descendant of King David through Judah Loew ben Bezalel,
a famous sixteenth-century rabbi (better known as “the Maharal of
Prague”),42 and his followers clearly saw him as the leader of the Jewish
people in his generation—making him, in their eyes, a “king.”43 They
further believed that the Rebbe was superior to the leaders of all other
hasidic sects, since Chabad is the true heir to the Baal Shem Tov’s
tradition, and thus the “ideal,” or authentic, form of Judaism.44 This
elevated self-image was evident, for instance, in the Rebbe’s
condescending attitude toward other prominent Jewish figures: He refused
to visit any of them, irrespective of their stature; those who wished to
meet with him were required to make a pilgrimage to his famous residence,
770 Eastern Parkway in Crown Heights, Brooklyn.45
Maimonides further held that the messiah “prevails upon Israel to walk in
the way of the Torah and repair its breaches.” This passage appears to
have inspired one of Chabad’s most ambitious projects: its global
missionary campaign. The Rebbe, believing himself to be the shepherd of
the Jewish people and thus responsible for guiding it in the “way of the
Torah,” sent his followers across the globe equipped with kosher meals,
tefillin, copies of Tanya (“It Was Taught”; the central text of Chabad
Hasidism), and boundless enthusiasm. They were tasked with reaching out to
every Jew they encountered and spreading Chabad’s message to the masses.
The hasidim were expected to demonstrate profound devotion to the Rebbe,
to the point of self-negation. This obeisance, it was believed, turned
them into vessels filled with their leader’s essence, thus enabling the
Rebbe to spread himself over the entire world.




The same passage from the Mishneh Torah also serves as the source of
Chabad’s famous “Mitzvah Campaigns,” in which Lubavitchers are sent to
cities around the world with the aim of convincing as many Jews as
possible to perform various rituals and commandments, or mitzvot. During
the early decades of his leadership, the Rebbe focused on promoting the
mitzvot associated with Jewish holidays: Lubavitcher missionaries conduct
mass Passover seders—mostly for Israeli tourists—in far-flung places like
Thailand and Nepal, and on Sukkot, the Rebbe would send his followers out
with instructions to encourage Jews to engage in the ritual of netilat
lulav (“shaking the palm branch”). Then, in the late 1960s, he decided
that his efforts had not accomplished enough. He decreed that Chabad
should begin promoting the observance of the daily commandments as well,
and initiate various educational projects. Soon, his emissaries had set up
camp in public spaces, inviting Jewish passersby to don tefillin, to light
candles on the Sabbath, and to study Torah.46 This approach was unique, to
say the least, among other Orthodox Jewish sects, and not surprisingly it
was harshly denounced by them.47 Nonetheless, these campaigns must be
credited with ushering in a wave of chazara bitshuva (“returning” to the
religious lifestyle) among secular Jews—which, in turn, swelled the ranks
of Chabad itself.48 Undoubtedly, the Rebbe’s motives in launching such a
grand venture were pure. Nevertheless, these efforts were clearly
accompanied by the willingness—and the desire—to act as a messiah would.
Maimonides’s messianic criteria, however, also required the Rebbe to fight
the “wars of the Lord.” Traditional Judaism generally concurs that
Maimonides assumed the messiah would be a political sovereign, and was
thus referring to “wars” in the literal sense of the word. Yet Chabad
reinterpreted this concept, claiming it was fulfilled by the Rebbe’s
missionary activities. It is clear, then, why the Rebbe took care to use
explicitly military terminology to describe Chabad’s massive projects: His
emissaries were sent on “campaigns,” for example, and their vehicles were
called “mitzvah tanks.” This rhetoric was most pronounced when the
activities involved children. For instance, the Rebbe established a youth
movement in 1980 called Tzivos Hashem, “The Armies of God,” in which youth
were taught to act as disciplined soldiers “armed” with the mitzvot.49 His
followers believed that the purpose of this “mighty army” of
pre-adolescents was to defeat “the yetzer hara [the evil inclination] and
to eradicate it entirely from this world. This army was to subdue entirely
the devil that stalls the coming of the messiah and the redemption of
Israel.”50 At movement gatherings, Lubavitcher children chanted, “Who are
we? The armies of God! / What is our goal? To fight! / Who? What? The
yetzer hara! / What will we draw near? The redemption!”
The Rebbe’s use of military metaphor helped to consolidate his followers’
belief that he was at the front lines of the “wars of the Lord,” thus
fulfilling one of Maimonides’s most important messianic requirements.51
Yet the Mishneh Torah insisted not merely that the messiah would wage war,
but also that he would win: To fulfill his divine destiny, Maimonides
states, the savior must “subdue” the surrounding nations. This demand was
the impetus for yet another, even more grandiose endeavor: “The Seven
Noahide Laws Campaign,” launched in 1983.52
The goal of this effort was to encourage non-Jews to follow the Seven
Noahide Laws described in the book of Genesis, forbidding idolatry,
blasphemy, incest, adultery, theft, murder, and the eating of meat taken
from a living animal; these laws also require the establishment of a just
legal system.53 In the past, the Rebbe explained, the Jews were unable to
urge their neighbors to follow the Noahide Laws for fear of reprisal.
Now, however, such persuasion not only was possible, but might actually
elevate the world’s opinion of the Jewish people.54 Indeed, the Rebbe
viewed the fact that Jewish missionary work was no longer dangerous as a
messianic sign. He believed that non-Jews’ observance of the Noahide Laws
would affirm their recognition of God’s kingship, just as it would attest
to the divine mission of God’s messenger, the messiah. Such a feat would
thus constitute a “complete victory” over these nations, hastening, if not
actually bringing about, the redemption.55
Perhaps Chabad’s greatest accomplishment in this context was the
enactment, in 1978, of “Education and Sharing Day” by the United States
Congress in honor of the Rebbe’s birthday. This truly remarkable
achievement demonstrated the full extent of the Rebbe’s influence. What’s
more, the bill cited the Seven Noahide Laws as a model for the ethical
principles of civilized society. Unsurprisingly, the Lubavitchers
interpreted this gesture as the realization of Maimonides’s requirement
that the messiah “prepare the whole world to serve the Lord with one
accord.”56
As further proof of their leader’s global influence, Lubavitchers also
gave the Rebbe—who had been particularly active in the public struggle on
behalf of Soviet Jewry—credit for the collapse of the ussr and the
subsequent waves of mass Jewish emigration. They saw this turn of events
as the fulfillment of Maimonides’s stipulation that the messiah must
gather “the dispersed of Israel”—although, it should be noted, the Rebbe
did not encourage the newly freed Jews to make aliya to Israel. Rather, he
demanded only their release from the vise of atheistic communism, which
had forced them either to abandon their Jewish identity or to conceal it.
The Rebbe even criticized the Israeli government for portraying the
struggle for Soviet Jewry as a Zionist issue, thus (he argued) delaying
their release. By contrast, he had no problem with the Soviet Jews’
emigration to America, often referring to the United States as a
“benevolent kingship.”57
Maimonides’s claim that the messiah must rebuild the “sanctuary on its
site” would seem to be an insurmountable obstacle for those determined to
believe in the Rebbe’s messianic status. The reason is obvious: He did not
rebuild the Temple. Yet Chabad once again brought its creative
interpretive powers to bear on the Mishneh Torah, the results of which
were published in a 1991 pamphlet titled “The Lesser Sanctuary Is the
House of Our Rabbi in Babylon.”58 Here the Rebbe was quoted as saying that
ever since the shechina removed itself from the Jewish people, it has
resided in the home of each generation’s leader, which constitutes the
“primary lesser sanctuary that God provides for Israel during the exile in
place of the Temple Mount in Jerusalem.”59 In other words, the divine
presence resides at 770 Eastern Parkway, Menachem Mendel Schneerson’s
home. According to the Rebbe, the divine presence there “is more exalted
than the divine presence in other synagogues and houses of study,” because
it is a “very special (unique and singular) place that is a substitute for
the Temple in Jerusalem… which holds the essence of the divine emanation
and presence.”60 He goes on to explain that at the time of the redemption,
“the divine presence will return to Jerusalem and will not remain where
Israel was in exile… because the ‘lesser sanctuary’ will be uprooted from
this place and relocated to the Land of Israel, to the Temple Mount in
Jerusalem.”61 The Rebbe then turns to the Mishneh Torah, saying,
Perhaps it is right to say that there is an implicit meaning in
Maimonides’s statement (in the Laws of the King Messiah), “He rebuilds
the sanctuary on its site,” which seems to ask: What is the purpose of
stating here that the sanctuary will be rebuilt on its site…? Why
doesn’t he expressly name the site, [saying] “and he will rebuild the
sanctuary in Jerusalem”? Since “on its site” also implies the site of
the king messiah during the exile… this implies that while he is in
exile (where he sits in waiting and anticipation to redeem Israel as
well as the divine indwelling [shechina] from exile), the king messiah
builds a lesser sanctuary, which is in the form and likeness of the
Temple in Jerusalem.62

Put simply, the home of the “leader of his generation” is the dwelling
place of the divine presence, and the lesser sanctuary “rebuilt” by the
messiah in exile. As if this were not clear enough, the Rebbe restates,
“Our rebbe, the leader of the generation, is also the messiah (the
redeemer of Israel) of the generation, like Moses,” and “‘the house of our
Rebbe in Babylon’ of this generation is the house [synagogue and beit
midrash, or house of study] of his honor and holiness, my teacher and
father-in-law the Rebbe, the leader of our generation.”63 And finally, for
the benefit of anyone who might still harbor doubts as to which house—or
which leader—he is referring, the Rebbe explains, “the house’s number is
770.”64 As David Berger shows in his book The Rebbe, this explanation was
more than satisfactory for the Lubavitchers. Berger cites a letter sent by
Chabad activist Rabbi Shmuel Butman, chairman of the International
Campaign to Bring the Messiah, to Jewish Action, the official journal of
the Orthodox Union in the United States, stating, “Maimonides’s
requirement that the messiah build the Temple in its place really means,
at least in the initial stage, ‘in his place’ and was consequently met by
the renovation of 770 Eastern Parkway (the headquarters of the Lubavitch
movement).”65
Outside observers may be somewhat astonished by the liberties the Rebbe
and his followers took with their interpretation of the Mishneh Torah.
From the perspective of the Lubavitchers, however, there were no doubts
whatsoever: Maimonides’s conditions for identifying the redeemer had been
met. The messiah was alive and living in New York.




V

Despite the wealth of evidence indicating the degree to which Chabad was
conditioned, by both theology and activism, for the ultimate revelation
that its leader was the messiah, some refuse to accept that the Rebbe
himself really believed as much. To be sure, if one sought a written or a
recorded statement by the Rebbe explicitly declaring his messianic status,
he would be hard-pressed to find one.66 Yet it must be borne in mind that
such an expectation fails to consider the peculiar dynamics of
communication in closed societies, of which Chabad is certainly one.
Closed societies and cults, especially those based on esoteric religious
doctrines, tend to develop unique forms of communication in which some, if
not many, things are left unsaid or merely implied. More frequently, ideas
and opinions are conveyed through elaborate social codes, small details,
added or omitted words, physical gestures, decorations, clothing, or the
use of color—all things, in other words, that outside observers would
easily overlook, but that initiates register immediately. Members of such
groups are especially attuned to signals from their leader, even if these
signs have never been formally established in speech or in writing. In
fact, an explicit statement may well detract from the magnitude of an
implicit secret. It was never necessary, therefore, for the Lubavitcher
Rebbe actually to declare himself the messiah: His followers had been so
conditioned, and were so prepared, to believe this to be the case that a
mere half-smile at the mention of the word “messiah” was enough to ignite
their passions and galvanize them for yet another missionary campaign.
But the Rebbe went much farther than mere half-smiles. Both before and
after he suffered a major stroke in 1992, he encouraged his followers to
refer to him as “messiah” in his presence. One striking example should
suffice: In 1991, during the holiday of Shavuot, Chabad held a farbrengen,
a Yiddish word used to describe a gathering of hasidim with their rebbe.
Among the attendees was Rabbi David Nachshon, the current CEO of Chabad
Mitzvah Mobiles. Nachshon presented the Rebbe with a bottle of wine, and
announced to all gathered that the bottle would be consumed “the following
Sabbath, during the farbrengen with our righteous messiah at the Temple in
Jerusalem.” Nachshon then began chanting “yehi adonenu” (“long live our
master”) as the crowd joined in. Smiling throughout, the Rebbe waved his
hands, whipping those present into a frenzy.67
The Rebbe also dropped hints of his true calling in his speeches, as we
saw above. One such hint was his frequent use of the Hebrew adverb mamash
(“really” or “very”) in a way that those outside of Chabad’s inner circles
would find difficult to understand. For example, on January 16, 1970, at a
ceremony marking the completion of a Torah scroll “to receive our
righteous messiah,” the Rebbe stated,
In practice, we have completed the Torah scroll, which my teacher and
father-in-law, the Rebbe [Rabbi Yosef Yitzchok] named ‘the scroll of the
messiah’ …. Bekarov mamash [“very soon”] we will witness the arrival of
our righteous redeemer… bekarov mamash, when each and every person
completes his charge… and with this scroll we will greet our righteous
redeemer… bekarov mamash.68
To those in the Rebbe’s inner circle, the seemingly innocuous term mamash
had taken on two additional, esoteric meanings: It was considered an
acronym for both Mashiach Menachem Shmo (“the messiah, Menachem is his
name”) and the Rebbe’s own name, Menachem Mendel Schneerson.69 In other
words, when the Rebbe said that the redeemer would come “bekarov mamash,”
he was signaling to his followers not only that the messiah would arrive
“very soon,” but also that he himself was the messiah. We also see these
additional layers of meanings in a statement made by the Rebbe during one
of his farbrengens in 1992, in which he claimed that
The true and complete redemption of our righteous redeemer will arrive
mamash, immediately mamash… so it will really happen mamash,and miyad
[“immediately”] mamash, with all the meanings of miyad (including the
acronyms from all the generations: Moses, Israel [the Baal Shem Tov],
and David [the kingly messiah]),70 and all of the meanings found in
“mamash,” first and foremost among them the literal meaning of miyad
mamash: mamash mamash mamash.71
Here the Rebbe makes clear that the word “mamash”must be understood in all
its possible meanings—including the one that points to the Rebbe himself
as the messiah.




Another strong indication of the Rebbe’s belief in his own messianic
destiny can be found in his many references to his father-in-law, Rabbi
Yosef Yitzchok Schneersohn, the sixth Lubavitcher rebbe. Sometimes,
Menachem Mendel was indeed speaking of his predecessor. On numerous other
occasions, however, he spoke about the sixth Lubavitcher rebbe while
actually referring to himself, a cryptic reference that was well-known to
his inner circle.72 The importance of this substitution becomes clear in
light of the Rebbe’s frequent declarations that his predecessor was the
messiah. In 1990, for example, he stated,
Following the announcement of his honor and holiness, my teacher and
father-in-law, the rebbe and leaderof our generation, messiah of our
generation, that all of the work has been completed and accomplished and
[we] are prepared to greet our righteous messiah, at the present time…
all obstacles and hindrances have been removed. As such, the messiah
[not only exists, but in fact] is also already revealed. All we have to
do now is to welcome the righteous messiah in actuality mamash!73
Here the Rebbe makes two seemingly contradictory claims: first, that his
father-in-law is the “messiah of our generation,” and second, that the
messiah has already been “revealed” to the world. Given that the sixth
Lubavitcher rebbe died in 1950, these two statements make sense only if
the Rebbe was really referring to himself.
In his book The Seventh, Rabbi Yitzhak Kraus offers a similar example.
According to Kraus, the Rebbe was enthusiastic about the February 1, 1992
Camp David summit between Presidents George H.W. Bush and Boris Yeltsin,
which focused on nuclear disarmament. The Rebbe believed the summit was a
direct result of “activities for spreading Torah and Judaism,
righteousness and honesty in the entire world, which have been and
continue to be directed by the leader of our generation, the messiah of
our generation.”74 Kraus noted that the Rebbe, as was his custom,
“attributes all of his activities to his father-in-law, the sixth
Lubavitcher rebbe.”75 But an alternative explanation for this statement is
that the Rebbe was in truth crediting himself with these accomplishments
in the same metonymic language he had used in similar circumstances. Kraus
further wrote that, during the same conversation, the Rebbe emphasized,
We are at the “climactic moment”… of the coming of our righteous
messiah. “Here it (the king messiah) comes.” We are already witnessing
the beginning of his influence on the nations. “And he shall judge among
many people, and rebuke strong nations afar off; and they shall beat
their swords into plowshares”—in this way God allows the kings of the
nations (“the hearts of kings and ministers are in the hands of God”) to
decide and declare the occasion and the condition of “and they shall
beat their swords into plowshares.” And this is the reason why this
decision and declaration was made precisely at this time—because of its
particular relation to the true and full redemption by our righteous
messiah in actuality mamash.76
Once one understands the esoteric meanings of the particular terms the
Rebbe chooses to employ, the message he seeks to convey becomes clear. And
indeed, the Rebbe went so far as to attribute the messianic developments
taking place “at this time” to a 1991 halachic ruling signed by dozens of
rabbis on Shavuot, which demanded of God that he bring about the
redemption and declared unequivocally that the Rebbe was his messiah.77
Alon Dahan emphasizes that the Rebbe ordered his “emissaries to read this
halachic ruling at the graves of the Lubavitcher rebbes in Russia, and he
himself read it at the grave of the sixth Lubavitcher rebbe, so it is
difficult to assume that he had neglected to notice the ‘insignificant
detail’ that his name was listed at the head of the page as the most
fitting candidate to act as messiah.”78
As we have seen, the Rebbe lived in an extremely intense eschatological
frame of mind: He believed he was destined to be revealed as the messiah
and redeem the world. Nonetheless, he waited for that unambiguous,
providential sign that would grant him public legitimacy, secure in the
belief that it would come at any moment. Time after time, he emphasized in
his lectures the possibility that only one more action was needed, only
one more Jew had to be touched by halacha, and all of humanity would cross
the threshold of the messianic era.79 Nadav Shnerb, a national-religious
columnist, has provided an apt metaphor for Chabad’s messianic vigilance:
It is as though, he maintained, the drill has stalled less than an inch
away from the oil deposit, and “if we could only break through the crust,
we would witness an outburst of all that is good and cherished in the
essence of the Jewish people.”80 Of course, the belief that salvation is
imminent does not only sustain messianic tension; it also increases and
intensifies it. True believers nurture a burning hope that their very next
action might bring about the long-awaited redemption. Yet, to their
mounting frustration, the redemption never arrives. And so the wait
continues. Faced with such unrelenting tension, their souls threaten to
burst. Yet they dare not forsake their dream for fear that the moment they
do, the savior will be publicly revealed, and they will lose their place
in the front rows of the heavenly beit midrash.
For the Rebbe, the struggle was intensely personal; not surprisingly,
then, it exacted a considerable emotional price. In fact, it was not
uncommon for the Rebbe to break down in tears when speaking of the
imminent redemption. These emotional outbursts culminated in an impromptu
speech delivered on the night of April 12, 1991: After beginning with a
relatively calm discussion of the significance of the month of Nisan as
the time of salvation, the Rebbe suddenly cried out:
Following what we have just said regarding the particular emphasis on
redemption (especially) at this time, a great puzzlement arises: How is
it possible that despite all that has transpired and all that has been
done, the messiah has still not come? … This is utterly
incomprehensible!
And another puzzlement: When ten Jews gather together (or many dozens of
them), during a time that is fitting for the redemption, and
nevertheless they do not hurry to act to bring the messiah immediately,
and they do not find it absurd that our righteous savior will not arrive
tonight, nor will he arrive tomorrow, nor will he arrive in two days—God
help us!
Even when we shout, “How much longer?” it is only because of the
commandment to do so, for if we truly had proper devotion and appealed
and demanded, surely the messiah would already have come!
What more can I do? I have done all I can so that the Jewish people will
truly demand and clamor for the redemption, for all that was done so far
was not enough, and the proof is that we are still in exile and, more
importantly, we are still in internal exile from the worship of God.
The only thing that remains for me to do is to give over the matter to
you. Do all that is in your power to achieve this thing—a most sublime
and transcendent light that needs to be brought down into our world with
pragmatic tools—to bring the righteous messiah, immediately mamash!
May it be God’s will that, finally, ten Jews will arise who will
“insist” that they must plead to God, and of course they will plead to
God—as it is written “For it is a stiff-necked people… (and therefore)
pardon our iniquity and our sin, and take us for thy inheritance”—in
order to bring about the true and complete redemption immediately
mamash.
In order to further hasten and hurry [the redemption] through my
actions—I will further entrust each and every one of you with a mission
to serve as emissaries in regards to the mitzvah to give charity,
because “Great is charity for it draws redemption nearer.”81
I have done my part. From this point on, all is in your hands.83
At first, the Rebbe’s audience took his words as an admission of
failure.83 It appeared, after all, as though he had finally resigned
himself to his inability to bring about the redemption, and had chosen
instead to bequeath the task to his followers, or perhaps to the coming
generations, in the hope that they would succeed where he had not. In this
rare moment of sober reflection, the Rebbe had seemingly gone so far as to
question Chabad’s messianic expectations, or at the very least the
possibility of their realization. As is often the case with messianic
movements, however, the dread of looming failure only increases the
passion and motivation of the believers. And indeed, after the initial
shock had worn off, Chabad commenced a flurry of renewed, reinvigorated
activism whose goal was “Messiah Now.” By far the boldest of these
undertakings was the publication of the halachic declaration mentioned
above, which expressed Chabad’s conviction that, so far as the messiah is
concerned, “If you decree it, he will come.”




Less than a year later, on March 2, 1992, the Rebbe suffered a massive
stroke.84 He survived but lost the use of both legs, his right hand, and,
most devastating of all, his voice. The Rebbe’s followers were not
dispirited, however. The majority of them simply assumed that God was
testing their faith, and that redemption was closer than ever.85 Then, two
years later, the worst happened: On June 12, 1994, the Rebbe passed away.
Yet this time, too, many Lubavitchers quickly established that their
leader’s death was merely the final “trial” before the redemption.86
To this day, most Lubavitchers refuse to accept the Rebbe’s demise,
explaining it as an incomprehensible mystery, a hester panim, or “hiding
of [God’s] face.” The precise status of the Rebbe is a matter of intense
debate within the ranks of Chabad: The majority of Lubavitchers insist
that the Rebbe is now in a state of healem gamur (“complete concealment”),
hidden from the world “like an crescent moon”—implying that the Rebbe,
like the celestial body, will eventually reveal himself once again. A
minority faction is of the opinion that the Rebbe continues to walk among
us, and there are even those who swear they have caught a glimpse of him
on one occasion or another.87 Either way, anyone who believes the Rebbe
was in fact the messiah will insist that he did not pass away, but rather
that he only appeared to die.88 This claim is based on the belief that the
messiah will live forever89—something the Rebbe repeatedly emphasized—as
well as the on the desire to distance Chabad from the Christian doctrine
concerning the messiah’s death and subsequent resurrection.90
Still, in light of the Rebbe’s promise to bring about the redemption, the
movement remains at a loss to explain why said event has not occurred.
Some Lubavitchers have admitted as much: “From the time of this
announcement [that the Rebbe made on January 24, 1992, in which he
explained that all the preparations had been completed and that all that
remained was to greet the messiah]91 of the completion of the work of the
exile, every moment that the redemption is postponed is truly a mystery to
which we can provide no explanation, cause, or reason. This fact is
utterly incomprehensible!”92 Yet though he may tarry, the messiah’s
followers are not discouraged. The wait, they believe, will have been well
worth it.93


VI

Ultimately, the personal story of the seventh Lubavitcher rebbe, as well
as that of the Chabad movement as a whole, is in many ways a tragic tale.
All evidence points to the fact that the Rebbe truly believed he was
destined to be the messiah, and that he had, moreover, fulfilled the
requirements necessary to be seen as what Maimonides called behezkat
moshiach—someone who has at least the potential to become the savior on
the basis of his accomplishments.94 He and his followers did everything in
their power to realize these messianic hopes—and the results were
unquestionably impressive. In spite of all their efforts, however, the
Rebbe never received the heavenly sign that would reveal his true calling
to the world. He prayed, he exhorted, and he waited, but in the end, it
was all for naught. The man who would be king was destined to spend his
last months trapped in a broken body, watching as his minions danced
around him, singing ecstatically, “Forever live our master, our teacher,
our rebbe, the king messiah!”
The Lubavitchers continue to dance and sing to this day. And if the Rebbe
shied away from explicit declarations, his leaderless followers have long
since thrown caution to the wind, openly proclaiming him the messiah.
True, some have experienced a painful awakening. The majority of them,
however, refuse to abandon their dream.
To the outside observer, this phenomenon may seem almost incomprehensible.
Yet it must be remembered that the messianic impulse is one of the most
powerful forces in the history of mankind. Indeed, the Jewish people—which
introduced this drive to the world—owes it no small debt of gratitude. The
ardent secularist David Ben-Gurion probably went too far when he claimed
that messianism was “one of the main causes of the existence of the Jewish
people,” but his point is well taken.95 Of course, while it is true that
the messianic idea can motivate both individuals and nations to work
toward improving the world, it can also sow destruction and devastation.
It is as dangerous as it is productive; it is an article of faith, but
also an open door to heresy. Judaism learned this painful lesson more than
once, from the catastrophic rebellion against Rome led by Shimon Bar
Kochba—believed by many, including R. Akiva himself, to be the messiah—to
the disastrous aftermath of Shabtai Tzvi’s conversion to Islam.
Indeed, while Judaism may have given birth to the messianic idea, history
shows that every time this ideal manifests itself in the flesh, it
eventually results in the creation of an entirely new religion. The power
of messianism is so turbulent, and its impact on theology and religious
practice so acute, that those caught up in its wake are usually unable to
hold on to their Jewish identity. Invariably they are drawn away from it,
or else reject it outright. In some instances, such as the Bar Kochba
revolt, messianic fervor led to military disaster. More often, however,
the primary casualty is halacha, which falls victim to vulgar messianic
manipulations, or—as in the case of Christianity—is erased altogether.
Paradoxically, then, it would seem that the quickest way out of Judaism is
an excessively zealous espousal of one of its most fundamental principles.
Undoubtedly, Chabad’s explicit messianism renders it an atypical sect of
contemporary Judaism. As we have seen, some critics have already gone so
far as to label it a separate religion. The death of the Lubavitcher Rebbe
and his followers’ concomitant refusal to renounce the hopes they placed
in him by naming a successor have only widened this rift.96 The reason for
this is obvious: The idea of a dead and then resurrected messiah is hardly
new; it was adopted by a religion with which Judaism has been contending
for two thousand years. This naturally raises the question: Will Chabad
continue in its current path and, like Christianity, ultimately sever
itself from the main body of Judaism?
At present, it is impossible to say. On the one hand, values such as
reason and prudence are at the heart of the Chabad tradition, whose very
name is an acronym of hochma, bina, and daat (“wisdom,” “understanding,”
and “knowledge”). Yet such sober ideals can find it difficult to compete
with the enthusiasm generated by eschatological expectations. The simple
fact that those overcome with the messianic drive are louder and generally
more active than their more moderate peers makes it probable that they
will be the ones to shape Chabad’s future. The outcome of such a
development would be to the detriment of not only Chabad, but all of
Judaism, which stands to lose one of the most extraordinary movements it
has produced in modern times. For this reason, everyone—even the
unbelievers among us—should pray that this does not come to pass.

Tomer Persico is a researcher in the field of religious studies.