When the Rebbe Cries

I had a skip in my step as I made my way into the Jewish Children’s Museum. After a beautiful walk and an inspiring class, today was going to be good. It was around 9 a.m. as I made my way towards the elevator in the Museum’s silent entrance hall. I pressed the up button and the elevator door flung open.

I had one foot in the door way when I heard a sound and stopped.

To my right, the video screen that normally plays lively clips of the Rebbe was motionless. In place of a lively farbrengen, a niggun, talks and handing out dollars, there was a still image, an up close black and white picture of the leader of our generation.

All I hear is heavy breathing and a deep, almost silent, crying.

It becomes clear that I have walked into the middle of something.

I take my foot out of the elevator. I am not going to leave the Rebbe’s tears to meander unheard through this quiet lobby. Rebbe, I am here.

Through an audibly pained voice, the Rebbe continues. He is championing and defending the objections of the Jewish people. He is expounding on the suffering in the world, asking how us mere flesh and blood can handle it any longer. He is questioning G-d’s expectation that we yearn every second for Moshiach. In only the way that the head of our nation can do, he is crying out to G-d on our behalf, joining us in our protest.

The Rebbe cries and the blood inside me is immobile and rushing at the same time.

To grasp the thoughts of the Rebbe while he cried is totally beyond me, but there is nothing like the purpose, honesty and power in his tears that can bring the depths of my soul into such sharp focus. After you hear the Rebbe’s cry, it is impossible to be me-centered. It is impossible not to care. It is impossible not to try and believe just a little deeper. Who has ever cried like that? Who will ever cry like that again?

I need to hear the Rebbe crying more than ever, but I can’t. I can’t actually see his eyes water and the tears flow down his face. All I can do is try to pour tears the same way he would. For the same nation. For the same desire. For the same fight.