Dear Friends,
This week, a group from our community embarked on what we called a Soul Trek — a day-long journey to connect more deeply with the Rebbe, and ultimately, with ourselves. In a sense, the journey began before we even reached our first destination. Upon arriving at JFK, our group spontaneously broke into song and dance. One participant later reflected on how powerful it felt simply to dance openly and proudly as Jews in a New York airport — particularly at a time when Jewish presence and identity in the city have felt increasingly challenged. Before we had learned anything, prayed anywhere or visited any sacred space, we had already made a statement: We are here. We are Jewish. And we are proud. It set the tone for everything that followed. Our first stop was Soul Words, where we prepared ourselves for the day ahead, before continuing to the Ohel, the Rebbe’s resting place. At the Ohel there was a stillness and intensity. We each had the opportunity to write a note, pray, reflect and connect. For some there were tears; for others, simply a profound sense of presence. From there we traveled to 770 and entered the Rebbe’s room — the place where yechidus, private encounters with the Rebbe, took place. Yechidus connotes oneness — a soul connection. Each participant had the opportunity to sit quietly, close their eyes, and spend a few moments in profound reflection and connection. We then entered the main synagogue at 770 — a dramatic contrast. From the silence of the Rebbe’s room to the pulsating energy of a place alive with Torah, prayer, song and Jewish life; the headquarters from which thousands of emissaries were sent to illuminate the world. It was especially exciting for me to be able to show the men in the group the precise places I stood in 770 for Farbrengens, Tekios (the Shofar blowing) and Hakafos (on Simchas Torah) Our final stop was the Rebbe’s home, where some were struck by the almost startling simplicity of the home and particularly kitchen. Here was the private home of a leader whose influence reached across the globe, yet there were no trappings of grandeur. Just simplicity, humility and purpose. The Rebbe described his home as a place of ma’asim tovim — good deeds — and allowed it to be opened to the public so that those who entered would be inspired to add a good deed of their own. Different participants later spoke about different parts of the day that moved them most. Yet perhaps all of these experiences were expressions of the same journey: a journey inward. This week’s Torah portion opens: “Atem nitzavim hayom kulchem lifnei Hashem Elokeichem” — “You are all standing today before Hashem your G-d.” To stand lifnei Hashem — before G-d — is to encounter ourselves without all the layers we accumulate: our titles, insecurities, accomplishments and failures. What remains is the deepest and truest self. The Torah describes aliyah laregel, the pilgrimage to the Holy Temple, as coming “to see” and “to be seen.” Perhaps being seen by Hashem means learning to see ourselves the way Hashem sees us — not defined by our shortcomings, but by the pure soul within us and by what we are capable of becoming. That, in many ways, is what the Rebbe did throughout his lifetime — and continues to do. To come to the Rebbe is to see and to be seen. The Rebbe saw beyond what a person thought they were and helped them discover who they could become. But seeing differently must lead to living differently. And so everyone on our Soul Trek took upon themselves a practical hachlatah — a positive resolution, one concrete mitzvah or good deed through which to carry the inspiration home. And then, appropriately, we ended as we had begun: with a dance. We joined together singing the old Chassidic refrain: “Tayere brider, mir velen zich veiter zen; az der Eibershter vet geben gezunt un leben, velen mir forn tsum Rebn, mir velen zich veiter zen.” “Dear brothers, we will see each other again. When G-d grants us health and life, we will travel to the Rebbe, and we will see each other again.” But this time the dance meant something more. We had arrived dancing with the pride of Jews unafraid to be seen. We left dancing after having looked more deeply within — having experienced what it means to see, to be seen, and to recognize something greater in ourselves. And we returned home carrying that encounter with us — not merely as a memory, but as a hachlatah, a good deed, and a commitment to live more fully as the person Hashem sees us to be. Good Shabbos and Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Ruvi New