The recent explosion of Jewish pride, engagement, excitement, and passion at the CTeen Havdalah ceremony in Times Square brought the age-old question: What is the secret of Chabad? to the front of people’s minds.
They don’t shave their beards, the women don’t leave the house without a wig, they only consume chalav Yisrael and pas Yisrael. They seem so “right wing.”
How do these old-world chasidim relate to a bunch of non-traditional Jews? What could they possibly have in common? How in the world did they schlep thousands to Brooklyn for the first Shabbos of their lives and then to Times Square for the Jewish teen event of the century?
I can only answer this question for myself; I cannot speak on behalf of the entire Chabad Lubavitch and friends, which includes hundreds of thousands of Jews.
For me, it starts with the approach of chasidus. Rabbi Yisrael Baal Shem Tov began publicly teaching how to really love a fellow Jew. The Lubavitcher Rebbe did not approve of using the term chiloni (usually translated as secular) to refer to any Jew; chiloni comes from the word chol, which means mundane. The Rebbe could not call any Jew mundane. Every single Jew comes from Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaakov, Sarah, Rivkah, Rachel, and Leah – every single Jew has a golden lineage.
My boys in yeshivah have a light schedule on Fridays. The morning begins with t’filah and a few hours of Gemara. Later in the afternoon, the yeshivah makes time for the boys to go on “routes” and meet with fellow Jews, offering them the opportunity to do a mitzvah. It’s not just a few motivated bachurim (girls do this as well!) – it’s actually part of the system of growing up Chabad.
They ask a person to do a mitzvah, simply because this is the best thing the other person could possibly do for him or herself. The chasid (in training) knows that the mitzvah is an act between the Jew on the street and the One Above; it’s not about the messenger who happened to be in the right place at the right time with a pair of t’filin or Shabbos candles.
When a Jew (no matter how they are dressed, or what schools they went to) does a mitzvah, he is connecting to the King of kings. In that moment, it’s the Jew on the street and the Knower of all Knowing having a personal meeting. In chasidic terms, it’s atzmus [Essential Oneness].
Every single Jew wants to be totally connected to Hashem at all times, in essence. Sometimes we all get a bit distracted by our stomach, our daydreams, or maybe our smartphones.
Kabbalah teaches that each one of us is comprised of two souls. The animal soul seeks drive reduction. It wants to sleep when it’s tired, eat when it’s hungry, etc. He’s not a bad guy; he just wants to make sure his needs are met. The G-dly soul is happy to skip meals and has no need for entertainment. The G-dly soul just wants to bask in the rays of Hashem, singing praises for the Almighty.
It’s a war, says the Tanya – the foremost text of chasidic thought. Every Jew – from Main Street to Mongolia – is struggling with a similar battle. My body wants that seven-layer cake; and my soul wants to get out of this shallow materialistic place and soar to the Heavens to sing praises to the Maker of all makers above.
When I first began learning chasidus in college, I felt like it was a reality check. As a psychology major, my classes seemed to be all about the animal soul. The Tanya was teaching me about the G-dly soul. The struggle to “do the right thing” was actually part of the process, and not a sign of weakness. The inner conflict is not only real; it’s what makes you human. Perhaps this is exactly what you were created for.
On one hand, it seemed like chasidus allowed me to drop all the pretense and be real with who I am. Walk into the tension instead of avoiding the conflict. On the other hand, the chasidic way demands the highest level of adherence to Torah and mitzvos.
Practical example: It’s hard for a young woman in college to stop in the middle of the day and daven Minchah. The struggle is valid and the pull to “just be normal” and skip it is real. Nonetheless, she still has to daven Minchah. Chasidus helped me understand that the struggle is actually part of the accomplishment of the mitzvah.
But back to Times Square and bearded rabbis. From the humble corner of Eastern Parkway and Kingston Avenue in Brooklyn, the Lubavitcher Rebbe inspired generations to drop the pretense. He recognized the commonalities we share with every Jew and pushed the chasidim to just go out there. The Chabadnik doesn’t need to worry about how to address the “other” [a person with a different background], because no Jew can ever be the “other.” We all struggle. This is simply the dynamic of creation. The rest is commentary.
Tzipah Wertheimer has been running Chabad at Queens College since 2004 alongside her husband and five children. She gives a weekly Chasidus class for women in KGH every Shabbos. For more information, she can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..
