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.

This week we read one of the most powerful passages in the Torah. Moses, who was raised in Pharaoh’s palace, went out one day and saw an Egyptian striking a Hebrew slave. Unable to tolerate the injustice, Moses intervened.
As the verse says: “Moses turned this way and that way and saw that there was no one, so he struck down the Egyptian.”
Over the generations, the sages have analyzed every word of this verse. Where was Moses until now? Did he not know about the suffering of the Israelites? How exactly did he kill the Egyptian? And what does it mean that he “turned this way and that way and saw that there was no one”?
Some explain that Moses looked to see whether anyone was watching, and seeing no one, he knew he could act without being caught. Others interpret it more mystically, suggesting that Moses perceived there was no redemptive quality in this individual. Still others go even deeper, proposing that Moses foresaw no future spiritual potential or redeeming merit even among his possible descendants. Each interpretation offers meaningful insight.
But I came across an interpretation that speaks powerfully to Moses’ character. Moses saw a Jew suffering. He looked around and realized no one was coming to help. Everyone was absorbed in their own lives, with no time, energy, or courage to intervene. So Moses acted.
That is Moses. He does not remain comfortably in the palace. Nothing is too difficult or too insignificant, especially when something or someone is being overlooked or ignored by others.
Reading this deepened my understanding of Moses and strengthened my appreciation for the Rebbe’s impact on the Jewish people and on humanity. It also reminded me that this lesson calls on each of us to notice what is being neglected and to take responsibility in our own lives.
Earlier this week, I was reminded of this in a very real way. One of the great heroes of the Bondi Beach attack was Ahmed El-Ahmad, a Muslim man who happened to be nearby when the terrorists began their rampage. Instead of fleeing, he courageously confronted and disarmed one of the attackers, sustaining multiple gunshot wounds himself.
This week he came to America where he is being honored, and met with elected leaders in Congress to speak about courage, the rise in Jew hatred, and why all good people must stand up against it. But the first place he chose to visit was the Rebbe' Ohel in Queens, where he prayed for healing and peace and offered thanks for his survival.
What drew him there? Why would a Muslim man born in Syria and living in Australia feel comfort and inspiration at the Rebbe’s gravesite?
Perhaps it is the very quality the Rebbe identified in Moses that so many recognize in the Rebbe himself: seeing a problem, noticing someone in need, realizing that maybe no one else is stepping forward, and choosing to act. This is true leadership, and it continues to inspire and draw people of every background and faith to his vision, his teachings, and even to his resting place.

This past week was packed with Chanukah celebrations. We were lighting menorahs, gathering as a community, and spreading light across South Dakota. But my mind and heart were thousands of miles away, in Bondi.
There are no words to describe the horror of what took place. Sadly, there is also no surprise. Over the past two years, the Australian government neglected and failed its Jewish population.
And still, amid the darkness and tragedy, there have been moments of strength. 
Chaya Dadon is a 14-year-old girl. When the shooting began, she found a place to hide safely. But then she heard two children crying and screaming. She saw that they were exposed, out in the open, and she wanted to help them. Others who were hiding with her begged her not to leave her safe place, but she did anyway. She ran out to reach the children, and while shielding them, she was shot.
Or the two yeshiva students: 20-year-old Leibel Lazaroff of Houston (pictured above saying Shema while recovering), who was volunteering with the Jewish community in Bondi. When he saw a police officer injured, he immediately took off his shirt to use as a tourniquet, and while shielding the officer, begged him to let him use his weapon to stop the terrorist, before being shot several times himself; and Yanky Super, who is also a volunteer EMT with the local Hatzalah, who was shot while giving aid. Thank G-d, after multiple surgeries, all three are now stable and expected to recover.
We don’t know Chaya, but Mussie and I are family friends with Leibel and Yanky. We know their parents and many of their siblings personally, which makes this all hit even closer to home. Their survival is a blessing, but it also sharpens the pain of those who were not as fortunate.
Most notable among them is Rabbi Eli Schlanger, who was murdered just minutes after laying tefillin with a beachgoer, while attempting to approach the terrorist, begging him to stop. For the past 18 years, Rabbi Eli served the community in Bondi and organized this event.
When we woke up on Chanukah morning and heard of the massacre, the first death we heard about was Rabbi Eli. We were told there were more fatalities and many wounded, but no additional names had yet been released. Later in the day, just as we were about to start our Chanukah program, I checked my phone and saw that another fellow rabbi, Rabbi Yaakov Levitan, had succumbed to his wounds. Both leave behind wives and young children.
Among those killed were people who demonstrated tremendous bravery, trying to stop the terrorists. Like Boris & Sofia Gurman, a brave couple who tackled one of the attackers, not realizing there were two, and were murdered, and Reuven Morrison, who fought back by throwing bricks, refusing to freeze in fear.
As the days pass, I know there will be more stories, and the weight of it all keeps growing. There is not a day without tears for the horror, the victims and the survivors. Each morning, I open my email to notifications of funeral times for victims, ranging from an 87-year-old Holocaust survivor to the innocent 10-year-old Matilda. There are notices of shiva visits, updates on the injured, and appeals for financial support for widows and orphans. This is not the way life should look. And yet, this is the reality Jewish communities have been forced to live with, once again.
And still, even here, light breaks through.
For me, the most powerful moment came from Sorella Abrahms, speaking with a reporter. Her words are so raw and real that I am including a link and urging everyone to watch it. This is not theoretical. This is a lived experience. She shared that when her family returned home from the beach, her children begged her and her husband to turn off their menorah in their yard out of fear of becoming targets. These were children who had just witnessed their community being massacred for being Jewish. Reluctantly, they turned the menorah off.
But then, the next day, their Christian neighbor shared that her young daughter noticed the menorah was dark and began to cry, saying, “We can’t let the evil win.” They decided, come what may, they were turning that menorah back on.
The Bondi Beach Chanukah Massacre brought to mind a story I heard many years ago. The Rebbe once told someone from Australia that when a yeshiva student walks through Bondi Junction proudly wearing a yarmulke and tzitzit, even the angels in Heaven are envious.
That story always felt cryptic to me. There may be more to it that I don’t know, and the person to whom the Rebbe spoke doesn’t remember, but I could never quite understand what the angels were jealous of in Bondi. I still don’t know for sure, but now, after Jews who were proudly celebrating Yiddishkeit were murdered in cold blood, I think I may have a new understanding. Perhaps their envy speaks to what it means to be a visible Jew, to the holiness of choosing light when darkness would be easier.
And I think I know this because there is one other thing we know about angels and Jews being murdered. It is a moment we recall each year on Yom Kippur, when we read the account of the Ten Martyrs. The machzor describes how “shaking and trembling, the righteous accepted the decree upon themselves,” but the angels could not understand it. They cried out in protest before G-d, only to be told that the decree was final and there was nothing they could do.
That is the story of the Jewish people. No one really gets it. No one understands how we are still here. Even the angels don’t get it. And maybe that is what they are envious of. Jealous of those special souls who gathered on Bondi Beach this Sunday, proudly displaying their faith to light a menorah.
Throughout history, we have faced moments like this, and we are still here. That is part of the miracle of being Jewish. When you think about the fact that you or I are Jewish today, you realize how many generations of men and women had to come before us, and how many decisions our parents, grandparents, great-grandparents and those before them, had to make to keep the flame burning. If even one person in that chain had cowered, had chosen silence or surrender, we might not be here today.
So in the pain, the tears, and the heartbreak, we cry out to G-d and demand that He remove this cruelty from His children. We are His children, and we have a right to ask Him to protect us. To grant healing to the wounded, and protect the widows and young orphans who will never know their fathers. But we will also not wait for G-d. In the meantime, we will do our part. We will mourn when it hurts. We will cry when we must. We will provide all the support we can. But for their sake, for the sake of those murdered and wounded, and for the sake of our children and theirs, we will move forward with even greater determination.
Their deaths will not be in vain. We will continue to live openly and proudly as Jews. And we will never, ever, allow terror or Jew-hatred to win. Together we will be strong, and together we will win. 
May their memories be a blessing.

This picture is not Ai. These days it can be hard to tell what is real, with so many images and messages created by artificial intelligence and ChatGBT. It is understandable that someone unfamiliar with the Kinus Hashluchim might assume that a picture of six thousand rabbis gathered in one place must be fake.
But not only is it real, it is a powerful image of Jewish leadership.
I just returned from a quick trip to New York, where I took part in the annual international conference of Chabad rabbis. These are the shluchim, sent by the Rebbe and guided by his teachings to uplift and strengthen Jewish life in every corner of the world, and serve as examples of G-dliness, ethics and morality for all humanity. 
When you look back at how it all began, the growth is astonishing. The first Kinus in 1984 had fewer than forty attendees. Today nearly seven thousand Chabad families serve and represent diverse communities worldwide, in all 50 states and over 100 countries.
What is the secret of Chabad and what keeps attracting more and more people to it? This past year alone, a new Chabad center opened on average every forty-eight hours. That means there was enough demand for a new rabbinic couple to pick up their lives and be welcomed somewhere to serve an existing or emerging Jewish community.
And the future looks just as strong. While some speak about a decline in rabbinic students, Chabad continues to ordain hundreds of rabbis each year. We got a future forecast of this at the conference. As the adults gathered for their sessions, more than one thousand young shluchim held their own program. For me, that was the most inspirational part of the conference. They are not simply the children of shluchim. They are the next chapter, already living the values that will carry Jewish life forward.
When we look around the world, it is easy to feel unsettled by events that seem frightening or unpredictable. But we are not defined by headlines. In fact, we are seeing a generational shift toward deeper engagement with Yiddishkeit and a stronger embrace of Jewish learning and living.
The tragic events of October 7 awakened something deep within many Jews. In a moment of pain and fear, countless people felt a renewed pull toward their heritage, their identity, and their faith. It pushed many to ask deeper questions and to reconnect with the foundations of who we are.
We are an eternal people, rooted in a strong past and a rich history. After a few days at the Kinus, surrounded by devoted shluchim and inspired young leaders, it is impossible not to feel that Judaism is alive, vibrant, and filled with light. And when you picture those one thousand young shluchim, the next generation already stepping into their role, you cannot help but see that our future is brighter than ever.
Candle lighting this evening for Shabbat Toldot is at 4:39PM in Sioux Falls and 4:03PM in Rapid City. For other cities in South Dakota, click here. Shabbos Davening at Chabad tomorrow at 11AM followed by Kiddush.

This Sunday marks Gimmel Tammuz, the Rebbe’s 31st yahrzeit. I will be traveling with my family to the Ohel, where thousands will gather throughout the day. Lines will stretch for hours as people wait for the chance to say a brief prayer at this holy site.
The Rebbe is not simply a great leader or an inspiring personality. There are many such figures in the world. What makes the Rebbe unique is not only his wisdom and leadership, but his complete oneness with G-d and dedication to both G-d and humanity. A Moses-like figure in our time, the Rebbe stands alone in how fully he embodied that sacred mission.
But what is so revolutionary about the Rebbe? How did he manage to impact every Jewish community across the globe, and touch countless lives far beyond the Jewish world, in ways we have never seen before in history? And how is it that, 31 years after his physical passing, his influence continues to grow stronger?
There is, of course, much to say. But one idea I’ve been reflecting on lately, which I will try to share as simply as I can, is how the Rebbe taught us to see more deeply, beyond the surface of things. For over 40 years, he taught and lived a way of life that revealed the true depth of what a human being is capable of. He showed us what it means to be a Jew and our role in the world today. He did this not only as a brilliant scholar but also, and even more importantly, as a practitioner. He demonstrated that this was not just a philosophy. It was a way of life that could be lived and practiced each day.
So often, we think we can either do one thing or another, but not both. We see our limitations. From our human perspective, we may be right. But the Rebbe reminded us to see ourselves from G-d’s perspective. If He wants us to accomplish something, even something that seems contradictory or impossible, then we can. We just need to open our eyes and tap into the strength and capacity that’s already within us: a G-dly strength.
In Chassidic and Kabbalistic terms, this is called Atzmus—the essence. On the surface, there are limits and obstacles. But at the core, in the essence, there are none. Just as G-d is infinite, so too can we reach beyond boundaries, because the soul He gave us is literally a part of Him.
This means that when G-d gives us a mission, even one that seems out of reach, if we dig deeper and draw from our inner essence, we can achieve it. This is a Messianic way of seeing and engaging with the world. The prophets describe a future without jealousy, with peace, abundance, and a deep desire for spirituality. And while some might say that is a global vision for the time of Moshiach, which may seem out of reach or impossible today, the Rebbe showed us that we can begin living that reality right now in our own lives. It takes effort, energy, study, and contemplation. But when we succeed, we can reach a real sense of inner peace and wholeness.
This worldview is not only liberating. It transforms how we live, for ourselves, for others, and for G-d. When we access our essence, we can achieve what once felt impossible. When we see the essence of another, we can truly love them for who they are. And through both, we begin to make this world a suitable place for G-d’s essence.
King Solomon wrote, “There is nothing new under the sun.” The ideas the Rebbe taught and lived were not fundamentally new. They are all in the Torah. What is new was how he revealed them to us, and showed us how to integrate them into our lives in a practical and transformative way.
In Judaism, we believe everything we see and hear should teach us something. Think about the recent advancements in AI, or the extraordinary progress in space exploration. These things are not fundamentally new. The raw materials have always existed. What is new is how human beings have learned to harness and apply them. Just a few years ago, these realities would have been unimaginable. Today, they are tangible.
That’s the gift the Rebbe gave us: not just a vision, but the tools and confidence to break past what we thought was impossible. To reach higher. To live deeper. To touch Heaven and bring it down to earth. Modern science affirms that this is not only a spiritual or mystical goal. It is also practical and real.
I believe this is one of the reasons so many continue to be drawn to the Rebbe, and why 31 years later, his presence and impact remain as alive as ever. I was fortunate to meet him when I was a toddler. Today, I study his teachings, and you can too.

This week we read in the Torah how Balak, the king of Moab, summons the prophet Balaam to curse the people of Israel. Balaam attempts to pronounce his curses; each time, blessings issue forth instead, and he says:
“How can I curse whom G-d has not cursed, and how can I invoke wrath if the L-rd has not been angered? For from their beginning, I see them as mountain peaks, and I behold them as hills; it is a nation that will dwell alone, and will not be reckoned among the nations.” (Numbers 23:8-9)
Reading these verses reminded me of two conversations the Rebbe had on the topic of the people of Israel being "a nation that dwells alone...,” one with Yitzhak Rabin, and one with social critic, author and professor, Harvey Swados. 
Rabin recalled how the Rebbe spoke with him about his position as Israel's Ambassador to the United Nations, and Israel's position on the world stage, and quoted this verse reminding Rabin that while Israel may have friends, they still would still be “alone” and looked at differently. There was something to embrace about this. During their conversation, the Rebbe explained that what historically kept the people of Israel “alone” was a result of both the positive aspects of Judaism, our faith, and our commitment, as well as the negative forces of Jew-hatred, which helped quell assimilation and kept us together as a people. (Watch Rabin retell it here). 
The conversation with Swados took an interesting turn. What follows are notes taken by Swados, published by the New York Times, read the full piece here:
“...Earlier, you asked me about the future of Judaism. Suppose I ask you how you explain the past, the survival of Judaism over three millennia.”
“Well,” I said a bit uneasily, “the negative force of persecution has certainly driven people together who might otherwise disintegrate. I'm not certain that the disappearance of that persecution, whether through statehood in Israel or through the extension of democracy in this country, wouldn't weaken or destroy what you think of as Jewishness.”
“Do you really think that only a negative force unites the little tailor in Melbourne and the Rothschild in Paris?” the Rebbe asked me.
“I wouldn't deny the positive aspects of Judaism.”
“Then suppose that scientific inquiry and historical research lead you to conclude that factors which you might regard as irrational have contributed to the continuity of Judaism. Wouldn't you feel logically bound to acknowledge the power of the irrational, even though you declined to embrace it?”
The conversations the Rebbe had with Rabin and Swados give us so much to think about. In the meantime, let's embrace our beautiful heritage by deepening our Jewish education, and strengthen our observance of Torah and Mitzvahs so we can live our faith with pride. 

This Tuesday marks the 30th yahrzeit of the Rebbe, on the Jewish calendar the date is Gimmel Tammuz. Scripture records it as the day Joshua stopped the sun from setting. 
I was a young child when I met the Rebbe, but my worldview continues to be shaped by him. This week is an appropriate time to reflect and share inspiration from the Rebbe and his teachings.
The Rebbe spoke about our times being the “Jet Age,” where progress can happen faster than previously imagined, and we can appreciate how each moment is of the essence. He explained that the discovery and development of nuclear energy demonstrates that what once seemed impossible or could take decades to accomplish, can happen instantly and with massive impact. The same can be said more recently about AI. While these abilities always existed, they were just not discovered and realized until now. 
The same is true not only about our spiritual life journey and accomplishments but also our practical capabilities. The Rebbe showed us how to live a higher reality—the true reality—without being tied down by self-imposed restraints and societal constraints.
Once, when a felon recently released from prison told the Rebbe that he was having a hard time getting over his past and incarceration, the Rebbe encouraged him to put it behind him: “It is soon Passover,” the Rebbe said, “If the Jews have gotten past Egypt, it is time for you to get past prison. And even if it is difficult, try your best.”
When we try our best, we are guaranteed to see successful results. Not only because of the effort we put in but because we can tap into the spiritual “nuclear energy” that can propel us even further than we imagined.
Consider the following:

• That a Jew who has not been involved with Judaism in decades, who may have never had a bar or bat mitzvah and can't recognize the alef beis, would still feel a strong sense of spiritual connection and devotion to Yiddishkeit, defies reason and the laws of nature.
• That a young observant couple can relocate to a secular college town where they live differently than everyone else, and within a short time be the home for the hundreds of Jewish students on campus, defies reason and the laws of nature.
• That a people who have been oppressed and subjugated for millennia, can stand strong and proud, continuing their faith, traditions and identity, defies reason and the laws of nature. 
• That in 2024 one can believe in the eternal truths of the Torah and live by them, defies reason and the laws of nature. 
• That all humanity can recognize the purpose G-d has in our creation and that of the entire universe, and live a life of morals and values filled with goodness and kindness, defies reason and the laws of nature. 

Yet, it is happening. The Rebbe believed this was possible, and demonstrated that all this, and more, can be accomplished. Not by defying nature, but by digging deeper within nature itself and revealing its truest essence. When the Rebbe first told us this, some couldn’t see it. But now we are living it. I call this a Moshiach reality, by recognizing the miracle that is. When we do, there are no limits to what we can achieve.
The Rebbe often cited this teaching from Maimonides. Although I’m not good with the data, it may even be the teaching he cited most often altogether:
“One should always look at himself and the world as equally balanced between merit and the opposite, if he performs one mitzvah, he tips his balance and that of the entire world to the side of merit and brings deliverance and salvation to himself and others.” 
The Rebbe urged us to recognize not only the enormous potential we have but also the responsibility and mandate we bear. By unlocking the nuclear energy we all posses and living in that Moshiach reality, it can be done. Now it is up to you and me to tip the balance of the universe.
Today the sun is shining brightly. We are fortunate to live in the Rebbe’s time.

Today marks the 122nd birthday of the Rebbe. This day is commemorated with intensified Torah study, and increased charitable acts. It is recognized annually as Education & Sharing Day by the President of the United States.
The Rebbe lived through the horrors of Stalinism, communism, and Nazism, witnessing the worst humanity has to offer. Yet he never lost hope in a brighter future. 

In a letter penned on his 53rd birthday, to Israel’s 2nd president Yitzhak Ben-Zvi, the Rebbe wrote: “From the day I went to cheder (Jewish elementary school), and even before that, the vision of the future redemption began to take shape in my imagination—the redemption of the Jewish people from their final exile. A redemption of such magnitude through which the purpose of their suffering, the harsh decrees and persecution of exile will be understood.”
It is this sense of hope, and the possibility of realizing a world where, in the words of the prophet Isaiah, “swords will be turned into plowshares,” that the Rebbe not only lived himself, but urged us all, and demonstrated how, we can experience. If only we opened our eyes.

Today, as we celebrate the Rebbe’s birthday, our brethren in Israel face renewed threats of annihilation and increasing international isolation. Just last week the world watched in horror as the Islamic Republic of Iran, led by its evil Ayatollah and cheered on by Jew-haters around the world, attempted to unleash fire and brimstone upon Israel, launching some 300 ballistic missiles and drones laden with explosives. 

Yet, what unfolded was nothing short of miraculous. No lives were lost, and the damage was minimal.

It reminded me of when another evil tyrant, Saddam Hussein, threatened the Holy Land with chemical warfare. In 1990, as the world trembled with apprehension, one lone voice offered confidence and hope. 

From Chabad Headquarters in New York, the Rebbe cited the Biblical verse “the Land of Israel upon which G-d’s Eyes are watching from the beginning of the year to the end of the year” and “the guardian of Israel neither sleeps nor slumbers.” He confidently reassured the world that since that’s what G-d promised, that’s what will be.

He also quoted an ancient Jewish passage that predicted a time when “the nations of the world will threaten each other... The king of Persia will provoke the king of Arabia, and the nations will be thrown into turmoil. Israel, too, will be in turmoil and terror, and will cry: `Where shall we go? What shall we do?'  And G‑d will say to them: `My children, do not fear! All that I have done, I have done for your sake. Do not fear, for the time of your redemption has come...’”

Remarkable footage captured individuals seeking the Rebbe's counsel during those uncertain times. Parents whose children were studying abroad in Israel asked if they should bring them back home, couples who had planned trips to Israel asked if they should cancel them, and a mother whose daughter was in Israel was terrified for her well-being and sought reassurance. To each one, the Rebbe confidently reassured them that Israel was safe and they should not fear to proceed with their plans. “Don’t even tell anyone you thought about not going,” the Rebbe said to one woman.

This also hits close to home very personally. During the height of Saddam’s threats, in January 1991, Mussie as an infant, traveled with her mother to Israel, with the Rebbe’s blessing. 

Just like it was then, when tremendous miracles occurred, the same happened this week. Truly miracles in our times.
There is much to admire about the Rebbe. But perhaps more than anything, the Rebbe’s broad shoulders and the personal responsibility he took for the well-being of others, is the most remarkable and inspiring aspect we can appreciate. He addressed the issues of the day in the most relevant and timely manner and provided guidance to a generation so perplexed. With his deep commitment to Torah and unwavering trust in the eternal word of G-d, he infused faith in a people, comforted the broken, and projected a realistic sense of calm and tranquility.  
​
The Rebbe showed us how we can free ourselves of our self-imposed restraints and society-imposed constraints, and vigorously urged us all to open our eyes to see G-d's miracles and experience the future redemption. Today on his birthday, let’s live just one step higher. It is time we open our eyes.​

This week, Jews around the world, and all lovers of peace, rejoiced at the news of the miraculous rescue of Fernando Simon Marman, 60, and Louis Har, 70, after 129 days in Hamas captivity. The stories the released have told of starvation, terrible medical treatments, physical and sexual abuse, are enough to horrify any decent human being.
So when they were rescued in a flawless and heroic operation with no IDF fatalities, all people of good conscience had reason to celebrate.
But there was one specific detail in the story that caught my attention. As I listened to the recording of the soldiers' radio communications during the mission, after they eliminated the terrorists and located the hostages, one of them called over the radio the words that confirmed the mission had been accomplished: "The diamonds are in our hands."
The US Secret Service famously assigns code names to individuals under their protection. Clinton was known as "Eagle," Bush was "Trailblazer," Obama "Renegade," and Trump "Mogul." The military also employs code names for missions; for example, the operation to eliminate Bin Laden was codenamed "Geronimo."
For this mission, the IDF chose to use the code word "Diamonds."
How appropriate and how Jewish! This is the way we should look at our fellow, and this also explains why Israel was willing to take extraordinary measures for such a daring mission to save hostages. 
It reminded me of a story. For decades, the Rebbe devoted three nights a week meeting privately with people in his office, where he listened, offered encouragement, advice, and blessings upon those who sought his guidance. Though they would begin in the evening, oftentimes these meetings went well into the night, sometimes until 6 or 7 AM, ensuring that each individual on the schedule for that evening had their chance to connect with him.
As the demand grew and it became physically impossible to accommodate everyone, the Rebbe proposed something new. Starting on his 84th birthday, each Sunday he stood in the lobby between his office and Synagogue, and greeted each person briefly. Thousands flocked each week, forming lines that stretched around the block.
The Rebbe would stand for as long as eight hours without pause, despite his advanced age, and personally engaged with each individual, offering guidance or a blessing, and handing them a dollar bill to donate to a charity of their choosing. He said that when two people meet, a third should also benefit. As a young child, I had the privilege of meeting the Rebbe several times during these occasions.
Once an elderly woman asked him: "Rebbe, How do you do it? How is it that you do not tire of standing for hours and hours?"
The Rebbe smiled and replied: "Every soul is a diamond. One does not tire from counting diamonds."

I was deeply touched last week when so many friends who read my message replied by email and text offering to help me with the kids while Mussie was out of town. Well, I'm glad to share that she got back home safely on Monday night, after spending an invigorating weekend at the Chabad women's leadership conference in NY.
Thinking about the tremendous accomplishment of those thousands of women who had gathered last week, and the positive influence they each have leading their families and serving their communities, made me look back at Jewish and Chasidic history to gain an understanding of how this all came about.
This attitude was started by the Rebbe at the very beginning of his leadership, and reminded me of a story my grandmother Susha Alperowitz tells of a personal experience she had with the Rebbe in 1962.
During the late 1950s and early 60s, she served as president of the Neshi Chabad and editor of its magazine. The periodical contained Torah insights, talks from the Rebbe, recent community news and other matters relevant to its readership.
Once when my grandmother had a private meeting with the Rebbe, the discussion turned to the magazine, and the Rebbe suggested that the next issue include a rendition of his recent talk on the Song of Miriam at the Exodus and how it differed from the men's singing.
It was a scholarly talk the Rebbe had given some weeks earlier, during which he explained the difference of these songs, citing Talmudic, Midrashic and Kabbalistic teachings, and the relevant message it had for women as role models for their families spirituality today.
When my grandmother heard the Rebbe's suggestion she immediately thought to herself that there was no way she could possibly prepare such an article herself. Its depth and breadth, citations and complexities, would be beyond her ability to fully comprehend, let alone write up for print. She doubted her ability and credentials to adequately accomplish this task. However, she had an idea. Rabbi Joseph Weinberg, a prominent Chabad scholar and author of a commentary on the Tanya, had just delivered a lecture on the Rebbe's talk, so she figured it would make perfect sense for her to ask him.
"I will ask Rabbi Weinberg to prepare it" my grandmother said to the Rebbe.
My grandmother recalls how the Rebbe replied to her, with words that she can never forget and that have guided her ever since "Why do you need Rabbi Weinberg to do it when you can do it on your own?"
This was 1963.
It's no wonder then that in 2023, the Kinus Hashluchos (Chabad Women's Leadership Conference) is the largest network of female leaders in the world. A group of 6000+ women from different languages, backgrounds, personalities and even ethnicities, including the world's largest cohort of Gen Z Jewish leaders, all "in it together" gathering once a year to share inspiration and strength.