The Rebbe has died, long live the Rebbe.

The abandoned promise to the "7th generation" and its impact on the next.

Author’s note:

As a video producer and songwriter, creative writing comes more natural to me, but when I recently sat down to write my first Substack post I wanted to tackle something real.

I searched within for a topic that felt personal and important, and the following piece is what transpired.

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“A siren’s wail in the pre-dawn darkness screamed a community’s pain’ - (Newsday June 13th, 1994.)

It was in the early hours of a warm summer’s day, and thousands of Hasidic Jews gathered outside of 770 Eastern Parkway, Brooklyn, NY.

Large gatherings here were not unusual, but this time something was different.

Passers by would have noticed many of the grown men tearing their clothing in mourning, women wailing clutching tambourines decorated with Messianic Hebrew verses, others singing and dancing, and bewildered young children yawning while clutching onto their distraught parents, taking in the chaotic scene.

It was June 12th, 1994. Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, leader of the Chabad-Lubavitch Hasidic movement had just passed away aged 94, leaving behind thousands of dedicated followers who were now dazed and shell-shocked at how the unthinkable had become a reality.

A frenzied Messianic fever had engulfed his followers a few years earlier, spurred on by his public lectures where he preached of an imminent messianic redemption, passionately urging and pleading his followers to do their part in the realm of increasing religious practice in order to hasten the redemption. He often teased as to the identity of the messiah, saying things like “The 7th generation (of Lubavitch followers) are the last generation in exile, and the first to greet the Messiah.” and that “The Messiah’s name is Menachem”.

When his leadership began in 1951, a year after the death of his father in law, Rabbi YY Schneerson (the previous Rebbe), he was faced with the mammoth task of spiritually guiding a community of Jews who were reeling from the faith crushing events of the holocaust.

Initially his focus centered on rehabilitating his Hasidic group in America, building on the foundations laid by his predecessor, he oversaw the growth of communal institutions, preached and disseminated Hasidic philosophy, and greatly expanded the spiritual outreach missionary program, which happened to coincide with the rise of Kennedy’s peace corps campaign.

However leading into the 1990’s his focus almost entirely shifted to preparing his community and the world at large for the imminent arrival of the Messiah. This was his answer to the Nazi’s terror, to rise from the ashes of destruction and illuminate the world as lamplighters ushering in an everlasting peace and spiritual revelation. The ultimate dream that had eluded the Jewish people for 2000 years was finally about to be here and his followers bought into it wholeheartedly with total dedication and faith.

Having a connection to “The Rebbe” is the foundation of every young Lubavitcher’s spiritual indoctrination. In order to have a connection to god you must tether yourself to the Rebbe, “the Moses of our generation”. This is one of the core tenets, and innovations of Hasidic philosophy, and it was a major point of contention that the Orthodox opponents of Hasidism had in the 18th, and 19th centuries. Through this lens we can understand how powerful that moment must have been for his faithful.

As Rabbi Schneerson’s health waned, an internal schism emerged that not only fractured the unified messianic vision but also laid bare the ideological divisions at the heart of the movement.

A groundswell from within a faction of the movement’s leadership along with some fervent followers publicly announced the Rebbe as the revealed Messiah, launching media ad campaigns through newspapers, radio, TV, and billboards around the world. This led to public spats between the leadership and his followers with both sides claiming legitimacy in representing the official Lubavitch position. The Rebbe’s healthcare management also became a battle that played out in the pages of New York’s biggest newspapers.

When he passed away, many of his followers around the world, and among those attending his funeral faithfully expected him to arise at any moment and reveal himself to the world as a risen Messiah (a concept in itself considered by many scholars foreign to traditional Judaic theology).

But on that day in Brooklyn, not only did he not rise, but the Chabad-Lubavitch dynasty that had endured for circa 180 years came to an abrupt end, for after 60 plus years of marriage and 40 plus years of leadership he left no heirs or successors in his wake.

To fully understand the context of this fervor, it is essential to explore the historical evolution of the Chabad-Lubavitch dynasty, beginning with its formative struggles and subsequent rise.

On December 27th, 1812 the first Chabad rebbe passed away. A succession dispute between his prime student, and his son Dovber, followed, and most of the Chassidim eventually followed Dovber to the town of Lubavitch (Lyubavichi, Belorussia) and with that, a Hasidic dynasty was born.

Throughout the generations the dynasty continued, with it’s leadership managing to find successors to lead as Rebbe when their one died, at times with ease, and at times with multiple candidates vying for the role, with those not selected often leaving town to create a new Hasidic court of their own.

But in 1994, the leadership took a conscious decision to not seek, and coronate another Rebbe, unlike their parents who vigorously pressured the Rebbe for a year in public and in private to take on the mantle after the previous Rebbe died, they chose to deny the future generations of a living leader, instead they instructed us to lean on his teachings for the foreseeable future.

At the Chabad-Lubavitch headquarters, Rabbi Yehuda Krinski, the Rebbe’s personal secretary held a press conference with reporters immediately after the Rebbe’s death, he was asked "can anyone replace Rabbi Schneerson?" to which he responded emphatically “categorically no!”

When asked about the Rebbe’s personal position on people calling him the Messiah, Krinski replied “Knowing him so well, for so many years, I would think that he scoffed at that, and certainly considered it perhaps sacrilegious to an extent… It would be totally foreign to him.”

Another reporter asked if we will see “an anointing of a new grand Rabbi?" to which he replied “Not in the foreseeable future… In my mind… Right now they (the followers) are in a state of mourning, deeply pained, orphaned… There is so much of the Rebbe’s teachings, guidance, and leadership that is enough to last us until Moshiach comes… For another lifetime… It is not a consideration.”

As a result, for the past 30 years the trauma experienced by that generation’s loss and the philosophical recalibration that followed seeped into the education and spiritual upbringing of children in Lubavitch communities across the world.

For over a decade I’ve discussed the impact of this experience with my peers from England, Israel, and the Unites States. Among them are many dedicated followers who remain unscathed, card carrying members who’ve never felt the need to explore ideological ideas beyond of what they were taught. However a large number of others including me had a drastically different experience.

We spent our childhoods under the constant gaze of the Rebbe’s portrait in our homes, communal buildings, and schools, and our early teens pouring over his mystical written works, all the while utterly convinced of his infallible nature and divinely anointed supremacy. Outlandish miracle stories saturated our young minds, hoping he saw us as we watched grainy footage of him on the video screen. But as we matured into a miracle void world, trust eroded in the tales of our youth.

The post-Rebbe generation had no choice but to embrace this status quo. We were taught to extract life’s answers and spiritual direction from the Rebbe’s published teachings, which were continually interpreted for us in glossy commentary books by our esteemed scholars. Through these means they replaced the need for a living leader to turn to, all the while keeping the orphaned flock pacified and spiritually motivated with the ultimate carrot on a stick, the promise of his imminent return, ushering in the dawn of the long awaited Jewish redemption.

But for those of us with curious minds, we soon discovered other faiths with deceased historical leaders whose followers also await their imminent arrival as the Messiah thousands of years later with as much faith and conviction. But each generation interprets and frames their leader’s teachings in a way that’s compatible with the emerging wisdom of the times they’re in.

So to, many young Lubavitch followers today are able to develop a strong connection to the Rebbe who they’ve never met, to such an extent that they are willing to dedicate their lives to studying his works and furthering his cause, with some even traveling as missionaries to far flung places with his message in tow, fully expecting his imminent arrival.

It’s now over 30 years since the Rebbe’s death, and his promised redemption for the “7th generation” has failed to materialize, and as our elders inevitably depart from this earth having not been redeemed, we still continue to quench the thirsty minds of youth with these same myths.

How much longer can we be sold the stale goods of his resurrection when he’s become just another promised returnee in the pantheon of global Messiahs?

Perhaps its time for some honest introspection, to mitigate any further negative impact on our descendants.

This introspection could involve a critical reassessment of our historical narratives, a candid dialogue about the Rebbe’s enduring influence, and a thoughtful consideration of how to reconcile Chabad’s past Messianic fervor with the pragmatic realities of contemporary spiritual life.