Car Ramming in 770

This week, Chabad was in the news. While the incident remains under investigation, the main synagogue and movement headquarters at 770 Eastern Parkway in New York was the site of a car-ramming attack. Thousands of people were gathered there that night. Thank G-d, no one was injured, and the perpetrator was arrested at the scene.
The reason so many were assembled that night, is because that day marked seventy-six years since the Rebbe assumed leadership of the Chabad-Lubavitch movement, after succeeding his father-in-law, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn.
Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak had bravely stood against Stalin, preserving Judaism in the USSR by organizing a clandestine network of Jewish day schools, mikvahs, and kosher food supplies. His defiance led to his arrest and imprisonment by the NKVD, where he initially faced a death sentence. Miraculously, and through American diplomatic efforts, he was exiled and eventually expelled from Russia.
Now in America, Jews faced a new reality with different challenges. Reeling from the devastation of the Holocaust, many were simply trying to piece their lives back together. Others, having witnessed the extermination of European Jewry, felt completely apathetic toward Judaism. After all, where was G-d?
It was against this backdrop that the Rebbe assumed leadership. The Jewish community needed healing, revival, vitality, pride, and above all, love.
In his first address, he spoke of three loves: the love of G-d, the love of Torah, and the love of His people, Israel. “They are all one,” he said, “and since they are one, it is impossible to make distinctions between them.”
“When there is love of G-d but not love of Torah and love of Israel, this means that the love of G-d is also lacking. On the other hand, when there is love for a fellow Jew, this will eventually bring a love of Torah and a love of G-d…”
The Rebbe advocated for a holistic approach, explaining that if you see a person who seems to have a love of G-d but lacks a love of Torah and his fellow, you must teach him that his love of G-d is incomplete. And if you see someone who has only a love for his fellow, you must bring him to a love of Torah and a love of G-d, so that his kindness "extends beyond just providing bread for the hungry and water for the thirsty," to also "bringing them closer to Torah and to G-d."
He made clear his belief that the mission of our time was to share Judaism with our fellow Jews, with love, meaning, and authenticity, and to share the values of ethics and morality with all humankind. The ultimate goal was that all humanity would recognize G-d and feel that this world is a suitable dwelling place for Him, as well as for them, even if it required self-sacrifice. “This means even going to places where nothing is known of G-dliness, nothing is known of Judaism, nothing is known even of the alef-bet, and while there, setting oneself completely aside and devoting oneself to the mission at hand.”
The Rebbe’s vision was simple as much as it was revolutionary. It was time to bring Yiddishkeit into the open, lived with education, confidence, and pride. Judaism was not something to hide, but the source of meaning and purpose for every Jew.
On that cold winter evening, in a small Brooklyn synagogue filled with Holocaust survivors, European refugees, and escapees of Stalin’s gulags, few among them even speaking English, the Rebbe set out a bold vision. That modest building, now known as 770, would become one of the most well-known synagogues in America and the most replicated Jewish building in the world, as the Rebbe’s mission of love went on to transform Judaism.