Editor's note: This past weekend
(November 19-24, 2003) the Crown Heights, Brooklyn chassidic community
hosted the annual conference of Chabad-Lubavitch "Shluchim"
(emissaries), with the participation of more than 2,000 emissaries, sent by the
Lubavitcher Rebbe together with their families to virtually every corner of the
globe to reach out to their fellow Jews and bring them closer to their Jewish
heritage. We therefore felt it most fitting to share a letter by Chana Weisberg,
a regular contributor to this magazine and herself a "shaliach", which conveys,
better than any article or essay, how the Rebbe's emissaries and their families
view their work and apply themselves to the task.
My Dear Esther,
I hope you are enjoying your summer. Though our home is still noisily busy,
it feels so lonely and bereft with you so far away. I pass by your empty bedroom
and eagerly await your return.
Even your little brother is counting down the days. (No doubt, he remembers
the small presents that you’ve promised to bring him back...!)
But the summer is passing so swiftly and before long we’ll be standing at the
same airport where we stood waving goodbye to you at the departing gate, just a
few weeks ago-but this time, for your enthusiastically anticipated arrival.
I must tell you that I felt so proud when I put down the phone receiver after
our last conversation. How is it that you have grown so quickly? Can sixteen
years have passed in such a flash?!
In my mind’s eye, I picture you and your friends, and can imagine what
a great job you're doing as counselors for your campers. I see the tenderness
and sensitivity that you show to your siblings easily transferred to the
youngsters under your charge. I can just imagine your creativity, put to such
good use, in concocting all kinds of activities, games and drama programs.
I easily picture, too, your enthusiasm in inspiring your campers with the
values of Torah and Chassidism, your warmth and sincerity. It must be a real
treat for your campers, some so estranged from this way of life, to have an
opportunity to learn so much about their heritage in the fun-filled environment
of a summer day camp.
But what I especially feel pride over is the scene you described over the
phone. You and your fellow counselors were given the opportunity to organize and
lead a "Shabbaton" for the mothers of your campers. You were joined by other
women from outlying communities, some who may have never tasted the spirit of an
authentic Shabbat.
I envision you all sitting around a large dining room table, laden with
Shabbat delicacies. I see you and your friends so articulately explaining the
weekly Parshah and sharing stories with the participants -- women who are two,
three, or even four times your age!
I picture them joining you in spirited song, nodding in agreement to the
lessons you convey, and listening intently, mesmerized by the stories you share
of the heroism of your grandparents and great-grandparents, and our Rebbes, the
great chassidic masters of Chabad.
But more than the words that you communicate, I can see them listening to
you -- you and your friends, girls only in their tender teens, speaking with
such a sense a purpose, such a deep passion and pride about their heritage and
history.
I am not sure if you realize this, but the power of your message lies in so
much more than the articulation of your erudite words. More important than the
most profound and brilliant ideas that you can communicate, and even more
crucial than the excited enthusiasm in your voice, is a deeper gift that you
have given them.
What you have imparted to these women, (as well as to the children in your
care) is the essence of what you are, the core of what you represent.
And it is this message -- a message that is brought home so much more
powerfully by a girl your age than by any eloquent adult -- that will leave them
with such a powerful, lasting impression. Long after you have returned home to
Toronto, and long after they have forgotten the contents of your speech or the
episodes in your stories, the conviction of your words, and the sincerity of
your message, will linger.
And knowing that you have planted such potent seeds in their hearts with your
youthful and vibrant passion, makes me burst with pride -- even as I wonder how
in the world my little girl has grown up so quickly…
Looking forward to seeing you soon and wishing you a safe flight home,
Love always,
Mommy
P.S. Make sure you take some snacks along in the plane -- it's a long flight
home...
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