The Jewish Humanist, August 1994

The Rebbe is dead. Or is he?

Hundreds of Lubavitcher Hasidim are waiting breathlessly for his resurrection. They cannot accept his death. They await his return.

Whoever would imagine that the death of a Jewish cult leader would make front page news seven days in a row. But the Lubavitchers are no ordinary cult. Next to the state of Israel, they are the most successful Jewish organization in the world. Now 250,000 strong, they have quintupled their numbers over the past 40 years and entered into the mainstream of Jewish life. In 1951 when the Rebbe took over, they were a bizarre Jewish sect that few Jews even knew about. Today their emissaries cover the globe and negotiate with the rulers of the world.

Hasidism has been around for almost 300 years. Emerging in southeast Poland at a time of political and economic devastation, it gave hope to hope-hungry Jews. God would send his Messiah to rescue his people only when they loved him enough. Observing the commandments was not enough. But observance with heartfelt devotion was the key to salvation. Hasidism began with singing and dancing with fervor and shaking, and ended up with miracle working Rebbes who were the dispensers of supernatural power. Devotional leaders founded devotional dynasties. Each dynasty turned into a cult of the personality. If the Rebbe was not God, he was, at least, the deputy of God on earth. He was the very gate to Heaven. Devotion went up. Power came down.

Zalman Schneersohn of Lubavitch was unique. While most Hasidim came from Galeia and the Ukraine, he hailed from Lithuania, the homeland of Hasidim haters. Litvaks almost invariably denounced Hasidism as craziness and heresy. But Zalman the Litvak became a Hasidic Rebbe. Being a Litvak, he tried to give his movement a slight intellectual twist. Habad is the acronym for three Hebrew words that denote wisdom. The Lubavitchers became Hasidism with a Litvak edge.

In 1957, the Lubavitch movement was in exile. Devastated by Communism and the Holocaust, its leadership was in exile in Brooklyn, its followers depressed, its numbers diminished. The old Rebbe died that year and was succeeded by his son-in-law who was also descended from the original Zalman. The new Rebbe was brilliant, charismatic and creative. Familiar with the secular world as an engineer graduate of the Sorbonne in Paris, he combined Hasidic piety, intellectual mysticism and a missionary zeal to reach the ‘lost’ Jews. Instead of despising them he went out to recruit them. The result is a powerful religious empire spanning six continents and a cadre of thousands of dedicated workers who, for an economic pittance, go forth to conquer the Jewish world. In time, some of these devotees would proclaim their Rebbe the Messiah.

What is the significance of all this Messianic fervor?

It means that all these old ideas about Messiahs and resurrections, which liberal Jews assumed were fast fading away in Jewish life, were wrong. They are alive and well. After four centuries of the age of science, fundamentalism is still strong. And the Jews are as much a part of that world as the Christians and Muslims.

It means that the “Jews for Jesus” and the Lubavitchers are on the same wave length. Both believe in salvation. Both believe in Messiahs. Both believe in resurrection. In the end, whether you prefer Jesus or the Rebbe, the mind-set is the same.

It means that rationality is having a hard time in Crown Heights.             The smartest strategy is to keep postponing the coming of the Messiah. But true believers want the Messiah right now. The rub is that he may not show up. And if he doesn’t there is always the risk of mass disillusionment. However, the history       of religion has demonstrated that true believers always find the perfect excuse. Perhaps the Rebbe did not find the world worthy of salvation.

It means that a lot of Jewish energy is being devoted to harmful illusion. Believing that everybody’s life can be rescued by a single person is a dangerous conviction. It undermines self-reliance and turns people into childlike dependents. The coming of the Lubavitchers is no great boon for the Jewish people. Jewish identity survival has no humanistic value if Jewish passion means the abduction of reason, autonomy and self-esteem.

It means that a movement built around the cult of personality needs a personality. It may be the case that the dead Rebbe will serve that purpose. But that has not been the Hasidic tradition.         Schneersohn designated no heir. Internal bickering has now resulted in major confrontations. The danger of splits is real. If no new charismatic Rebbe shows up, can the movement hold together? Ironically, the strong point of the Lubavitchers, their reverence for their leader, is also their weak point.

What this whole fiasco adds up to is the dichotomy in Jewish life. Humanistic Judaism looks at the Jewish experience and arrives at a totally different conclusion from that of the Lubavitchers. They see Messiahs. We find the need for self-reliance. They see divine determination. We find human determination. What we have to remember is that our style may not be as dramatic, our           songs may not be as lively, but our message is a lot healthier. Messiahs have always  been an enormous disappointment. “Jews for the Rebbe” are, after all, in the same delusionary world as Jews for Jesus.