The Month of Tammuz

The “vessel” of one’s life is too small right now to receive and perceive this new increment of good (and G-d). It must stretch beyond itself to accommodate the new light, which is forcing its way in. The process is painful. The dilation hurts. One sees only darkness.

It is the third of Tammuz, the anniversary of the Rebbe’s passing, and I find myself reflecting on the meaning of the day, desperately searching for answers to seventeen-year-old questions that still remain, unanswered . . .

As I listened to the voices of the Rebbe’s disciples, I could almost feel their yearning rise past my window . . .

I want to change. The desire comes from my need both to move away from where I am, and to approach the places I as yet only sense. I know that that requires personal effort. And yet, there are opportune moments which lift us beyond ourselves . . .

He made of each Chasid a "rebbe," made each Chasid feel that responsibility and love for every Jew, made each Jew sense her or his own greatness and holiness.