The Kohen and the Rebbe: Pre-11 Nissan Reflections

Rabbi Soloveitchik of blessed memory had a beautiful teaching outlining the difference between the Kohen (priest) and a Rebbe or Posek, etc., vis-à-vis the hierarchy and framework of authority governing Jewish life. (As an aside, it's important to point out that while the bulk of these judicial structures and priestly rituals were tied to the existence of an active and fully operational Bait Hamikdash (Temple) in Jerusalem, and as such have been dormant in practice for over two thousand years; nevertheless, much still remains present in Jewish ritual and the Jewish legal infrastructure. Even more germane to my point is the following: even those aspects that are only in effect, in practice, when the Temple stands, nonetheless remain fully operative at all times in the spiritual realms.)

The teaching of the Rav from Derosh Darosh Yosef pp 236-239: "The role of the Kohen, as defined by the prophet Ezekiel, encompasses several different tasks: he serves as a member of the Sanhedrin, he is responsible for declaring the holidays by establishing the months, he must teach the people, and he serves in the Temple. However, a single spirit underlies these roles, a strong sense of love, friendship and concern for every person. One of the most important conditions of a valid priestly blessing is that it be done with love, and this condition forms part of the blessing that is recited prior to performing this act: ‘Blessed are you… Who has commanded us to bless his people Israel with love.’ Judaism recognized only one authority figure: the Rebbes and the teachers; we have never entrusted our people to politicians or statesmen. According to Isaiah, the ideal king in Messianic times will be a great teacher."

The Rebbe, who would have turned 120 this coming Tuesday, was rare in every way. Most notably, perhaps, in the seamless and endless ways he encompassed and fully inhabited BOTH these roles, for an entire generation fortunate enough to be the recipients of this unprecedented spiritual largesse. His unparalleled depth and breadth of Torah genius made him the de facto Halachik spine of his era, even in a swelling sea of eminent and revered Poskim (Posek, singular: Halachik jurist par excellence, comparable within its own system to a Supreme Court judge). His Torah stature was matched only by the boundless love he displayed for the entirety of the Jewish community in particular, as well as the fate of humanity at large. (It is challenging enough describing complex aspects of one's own spiritual existentialism to one's own self, let alone in an attempt to share such as this. But "whatever," as they say. I'll try.)

I never saw his greatness as being limited merely to the impact of his Diaspora predecessors such as Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai, masters of spiritual improv, who responded to the limitations and national tragedy of exile by transcending them, and formulating (more like discovering a latent Jewish exilic substructure embedded deeply beneath its own surface) new modes of Jewish life. Of course, he very much WAS emphatically that; but so much more in my estimation. He was not only similar in his luminescence to those glaring lights shining on the nighttime highway construction crews that fully illuminate the darkness. His was a brightness that seemed to designate that half-mile as a corridor of actual daytime running through and surrounded by the darkest night. I always imagined that being with the Rebbe, in his presence, at the Farbrengens as a child (driving for two hours from Northeast Philly to Crown Heights Brooklyn, many times a year), or as a rabbinical student in my late teens and early twenties, was not a simulation of the REAL thing, but somehow a micro version of the real thing itself.

I never said to myself, "Hmm, if the reenactment of the original stuff feels this good, this AUTHENTIC, (G-d is good with one O) imagine how great the real thing must be." This was all the real I could ever hope for. The Temple destroyed? Yes, of course, but was leaving behind the cold darkness of a winter night and stepping into the haloed warmth of 770 Eastern Parkway, NOT walking into the actual Temple? For me it was. Or the instantaneous hushing of thousands as the throngs parted almost magically, NOT the parting of the Sea? For me it was. Was the majestic entrance and "descent" of the Rebbe (in every sense of the word) from seclusion in his "Gan Eden" world, to join us, NOT the entrance of the High Priest into the courtyard after his seclusion in the Holy of Holies where he pierced the gates of heaven whilst praying and tearfully petitioning on our behalf? For me 'twas indeed. Etc. Etc. Etc...

Blasphemous? Hardly. I know the deal. I know of all the ways that the brokenness of so much and so many echoes only the ancient brokenness, even surpassing it in instances in scope and nature. I know that there is pain in this world and I know of all the brokenness that people endure. I know that there is no spiritual sci-fi exit hatch through which we can disappear. I know that the pain of this exile doesn't feel remotely close to all the prophetic assurances of healing, of an era characterized by the eradication of sadness and the proliferation of ecstatic joy in its stead. I know how real that all was in the Rebbe's lifetime as well as our current times. I'm fully cognizant of the nature of the imperfections, the personal and collective disappointments, the widening ideological and generational gaps, and the frequently stunning depths of our individual and collective reality of "we are so not there yet." But I can't unsee what I saw. And as his light continues to shine, I will continue to endeavor to be its conduit rather than its concealment. In hearing his voice I also hear his refusal to remain paralyzed or defined by the status quo. My refusal to go backwards is rooted in his deep faith in one's ability and need to co-design their destiny to reflect the optimized outcome. I refuse to despair. As should you.

To be continued? I offer the above in the spirit of kick-starting my own personal pre-"11 Nissan" and pre-Passover reflections, and perhaps yours as well, as we all attempt to shift earnestly into the meditative territory of Pesach.