Introduction

(Click here for part one)

The life of Rebbetzin Rivkah Schneersohn spanned eight decades, from 1834 to 1914. For almost the entirety of that time, she lived in the town of Lubavitch—the seat of Chabad Chassidism for more than a century. As such, she personified a bridge of rich experience and memory that became all the more important amid the dislocations, challenges, and troubles suffered by Chabad in the decades following her passing. World War I broke out just six months after the ascent of her soul, and shortly thereafter her family left Lubavitch, never to return.

Part I of this series covered Rebbetzin Rivkah’s family history and early life, culminating with the dramatic story of her engagement and marriage to Rabbi Shmuel Schneersohn of Lubavitch, the youngest son of the Tzemach Tzedek and Rebbetzin Chaya Mushka. This account is primarily based on Divrei Yemei Harabanit Rivkah, drafted by Rebbetzin Rivkah’s grandson, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn (1880-1950) in the autumn of 1915, and published in 2014 by Kehot. As well as paraphrasing Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak’s own words, this account also abbreviates, expands, embroiders, and interprets his stories, utilizing material drawn from additional sources, which are cited in the footnotes.

Here we continue the story of the special relationship that developed between Rebbetzin Rivkah and her parents-in-law, of the new home built for her family in Lubavitch, and of the central role she began to play in the Chabad court during the final years of her father-in-law, the Tzemach Tzedek. Some details about this period, including concerning the controversy over the future leadership of Chabad, are drawn from another manuscript by Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak, titled Yemei Bereishit Shel Admur Muharash, which was published in Kfar Chabad Magazine.1

VII - In the Rebbe’s Home

Rebbetzin Chaya Mushka was a formidable woman. She inherited the stalwart heart of her father, the Mitteler Rebbe, and was extremely difficult to impress. She even belittled the devotional achievements of the most famous chassidim of her husband, the Tzemach Tzedek, likening them to flies on the wall compared to the seasoned disciples of her father: “They illuminated the entire universe with the depth of their insight and with the might of their learning; next to them you are like nothing!” If any of them made a comment that she disapproved of, she would burn them with her fiery tongue.2

Once, her husband, the Tzemach Tzedek, was unwell and did not deliver any new maamarim for several weeks. The chassid Reb Velvel Vilenker visited and had the temerity to ask, “Please, Rebbe, we need to hear chassidus.” Rebbetzin Chaya Mushka’s retort came fast and furious: “You indeed need to be taught chassidus! If you are taught nothing, you know nothing! Unaided, you understand very little. For my father’s chassidim, one discourse sufficed for a very long time. You lot, however, must constantly be taught … ”3

Years earlier, when her sister Rebbetzin Menuchah Rochel emigrated to the Holy Land via Kremenchug, the local chassidim had failed to greet her with due pomp and ceremony. This occurred in the late 1820s, only shortly after the passing of their father, the Mitteler Rebbe. When the senior chassidim of Kremenchug next visited Lubavitch, Rebbetzin Chaya Mushka summoned and rebuked them:

“Is this the gratitude you show to our father? What brazen ingrates you are! Who is it who gave you the capacity to pray? Who is it who gave you the capacity to learn? All the glories that you have achieved are only thanks to the riches our father bestowed upon you! And when my sister passed through your community, each one of you busied yourselves with your own personal affairs. One person was busy praying, another was busy with trade. Is this why my father invested in you, so that you could all grow into self-centered egoists and brazen ingrates?”4

There are many similar stories about Rebbetzin Chaya Mushka’s feisty and fierce spirit, and yet, when it came to her youngest daughter-in-law, Rebbetzin Rivkah, she exuded only sympathy and kindness. She felt drawn to her innate goodness and came to appreciate her sensitivity. She apprenticed her in the running of her household and the administration of all the affairs of the court.

With time, Rebbetzin Rivkah became Rebbetzin Chaya Mushka’s close confidant, with whom she discussed anything that concerned her, whether family matters or communal ones. She entrusted her with her own keys, and empowered her to act on her behalf. On many occasions she sang Rebbetzin Rivkah’s praises to her husband, the Tzemach Tzedek, and also to her son, Rabbi Shmuel, speaking of the joy and satisfaction this new daughter-in-law had brought her. There wasn’t a single occasion when she became upset with her. To the contrary, she drew her close, nurturing her as a mother nurtures her own daughter.

The Tzemach Tzedek also came to treasure Rebbetzin Rivkah, and was especially attentive to her. In his household, a light meal was customarily served in the morning, and lunch was served later in the afternoon, rather than at midday. In the morning, bread was served with smetana (sour cream), which in those days was simply fermented fat skimmed from the top of the milk bucket. Rebbetzin Rivkah had a rather delicate constitution and couldn’t bring herself to eat smetana. The Tzemach Tzedek noticed that she was only eating plain bread and discreetly inquired why. He then instructed his attendant to serve her butter instead. When Rebbetzin Chaya Mushka worried that this would increase expenses and perhaps also incite jealousy, the Tzemach Tzedek responded: “Her sensitivity is not superficial, but runs very deep, and she needs to be treated differently even when it comes to what she eats.”

Portrait of the Tzemach Tzedek from the archive of Abraham Schwadron, held by the National Library of Israel. - National Library of Israel
Portrait of the Tzemach Tzedek from the archive of Abraham Schwadron, held by the National Library of Israel.
National Library of Israel

On the one hand, the Tzemach Tzedek was ever wary of the potential for envy to be awakened in other members of the extended family. On the other hand, Rabbi Shmuel and Rebbetzin Rivkah held a special place in his heart, and he felt compelled to compensate for the tragedies that had beset both of them in their youth. Perhaps the memory of Rivkah’s father, Rabbi Aharon of Shklov, also played a role. Rivkah and Shmuel were too young when he passed away to remember him, and the Tzemach Tzedek sometimes shared fond reminiscences with them. When he gave them special gifts, he sought to do so unobtrusively, without fanfare. But it was impossible to hide the fact that he held Rebbetzin Rivkah in special esteem. Her relationship with both of her illustrious in-laws was of a different kind entirely.5

A few years into her marriage, Rebbetzin Rivkah suffered an illness that left her weak, tired, and dizzy. The prognosis offered by the doctors wasn’t good, and for a while, the family was quite worried. By this point, Rebbetzin Rivkah was accustomed to setting aside an hour or two each morning for prayer. This was her first priority of the day, and she put her heart and soul into each word, never rushing, rather lingering and savoring each moment of cerebral union and emotional connection with G‑d. She wouldn’t eat so much as a morsel until after her prayers were complete.

Now, however, the illness drained her strength and made her mind hazy. She had difficulty concentrating, and struggled to linger over the holy words in her siddur. Moreover, the doctors insisted she eat and drink immediately upon awakening in the morning. Rather than eating before praying, she began to rise even earlier than usual so that she could hurry through the morning prayers and then eat.

When the Tzemach Tzedek heard about this, he called for her and said: “A Jew must be healthy and strong. The Torah tells us that the mitzvahs were given to be lived by, ‘vechai bahem’ (‘and you shall live in them’).6 This can be read to mean that we must imbue the mitzvahs with life, and in order to imbue the mitzvahs with life you need to be healthy, strong, and joyful! You mustn’t let yourself go hungry. It’s better to eat as a preparation for prayer, than to pray as a preparation for eating. When you awaken in the morning, I want you to wash at your bedside and immediately eat bread with butter. Bread and butter will be your cure, and you will live a long life!”

Rebbetzin Rivkah followed her father-in-law’s instructions and soon regained sufficient strength. Nevertheless, the Tzemach Tzedek did not allow her to return to her usual practice of praying before breakfast until she had made a complete recovery. “If you will do as I ask,” he said, “I will recite additional Psalms with you in mind.”

She assented and he blessed her: “You will be healthy, and your prayers will be unhurried.” Within a few weeks, Rebbetzin Rivkah made a complete recovery, as if she had never been ill to begin with.7

VIII - The Great Fire

Lubavitch was home to the Chabad rebbes for more than one hundred years. Throughout that period, numerous fires shaped and reshaped the structure and appearance of the court and surrounding village. But the great fire of 1858 had a more transformative impact than any other.8

It happened in the autumn, when the nights start to get longer, and the winds begin to blow stronger. A caravan of merchants and wagoners arrived in Lubavitch, transporting produce, cut hay, and other merchandise. They spent the night at one of the local hostels, but there wasn’t sufficient room for all their wagons and horses. So they obtained permission to layover in a yard abutting the Rebbe’s court. Shifts were organized to ensure that no one would make off with their property, and during the night, a spark from a watching wagoner’s pipe, or perhaps a match carelessly tossed away, ignited the first flames. Suddenly the hay was alight, and a powerful wind was swiftly spreading the inferno.

The alarm was raised and all who dwelled in the Rebbe’s courtyard and the surrounding houses were awakened. Thankfully everyone emerged safely, but all the buildings of the Tzemach Tzedek’s court were burned to the ground. In the midst of the panic, Rabbi Shmuel himself hitched a horse to a wagon and helped his parents climb aboard. They were hastily joined by Rebbetzin Rivkah and her young children, Avraham Sender and Devorah Leah (their other children were not yet born), and rode towards the town’s outskirts.9

Detail from Fire in the Village, by the Russian artist Leonid Ivanovich Solomatkin (1837-1883).
Detail from Fire in the Village, by the Russian artist Leonid Ivanovich Solomatkin (1837-1883).

On the way, they stopped to retrieve precious books and manuscripts that had been deposited for safekeeping with Reb Michel the bookbinder and with Reb Todres the butcher. Some had also been entrusted to the town rabbi, Rabbi Avraham. When they reached the latter’s home, they saw him struggling to drag out a large crate from amid the flames. Rabbi Shmuel ran to help him. Suddenly he realized that the crate was filled neither with books, nor with manuscripts, but with honey! Seeing this, a brave young man dashed into the smoke-filled house, located the right crate on an upper floor and tried to retrieve it. But as he did so the burning house began to collapse around him and he was forced to jump out of a window.10

When the Tzemach Tzedek realized that his manuscripts had gone up in flames, he wept. “Eight years of my youthful toil,” he said, “has now been lost all at once.”11 The buildings of the Rebbe’s court could be rebuilt. The manuscripts, however, were lost forever. “At this age,” he said, “I no longer have the strength, nor the time, to reconstitute my work and commit it once again to writing. What I could achieve in my youth in a single day now takes up an entire week. I would need another thirty years, or more!”12

Near Lubavitch was an estate belonging to a local nobleman. It contained a large house and several other buildings. All were put at the Rebbe’s disposal. There was a large windowless stable there as well. Before Rosh Hashanah, the chassidim cleared it out and cut windows in its walls. There they prayed, and there the Rebbe delivered maamarim. For more than a year, the Rebbe and his extended family resided at the estate, while the court in Lubavitch was rebuilt from scratch.13

The Tzemach Tzedek purchased a new lot adjacent to the area where his house and synagogue had stood. On the old lot, he built a larger home, which included a small synagogue for daily use. On the new lot, he built a great hall to be used during the High Holidays, and on other occasions when hundreds and thousands of chassidim gathered in Lubavitch. Across from the great hall he allocated a parcel of land to his youngest son, Rabbi Shmuel, who set out to design and build a new house in which to raise his family. In this respect, he was singled out, for none of his brothers were given space to build a home in the Rebbe’s courtyard. Instead, they built upon plots in nearby streets, within a short walk from their father’s home and study hall.

Compared to the average village home at the time, Rabbi Shmuel’s new house was expansively proportioned. The rooms were large and the ceilings high. The layout created a bright and airy environment, with natural light streaming through tall windows. The interior was also finished to a high standard, with colored carpets and printed wallpapers, along with elegant furniture and upholstery, all in the fashionable mode of that era. In all of these respects, and in other ways too, their house was set apart from any other in the village of Lubavitch. Likewise, the household routines, which were set in place and overseen by Rebbetzin Rivkah, distinguished life in her home from that of all her in-laws. As much as its external form was unique, all the more so was its inner atmosphere rarefied.

“According to the beauty of the man,” said the Prophet Isaiah, “is the home in which he dwells.”14 Moreover, “A valorous woman is her husband’s crown.”15 In that home, all was honorable and beautiful, delicate and gentle. The tone was always soft; raised voices were never heard. There were no curses and none who were cursed. There was only quiet and peace, blessing and success.16

It was in this home that Rabbi Shmuel and Rebbetzin Rivkah raised their children. The first to be born after the great fire was Schneur Zalman Aharon, named for the Alter Rebbe and also for his maternal grandfather, Rabbi Aharon Alexandrov of Shklov.17

The orderly rhythms of Rebbetzin Rivkah’s household, with each thing in its fitting place and time, had a wonderful effect on the children. Not only were they handsome and happy, they were also endowed with a nobility of spirit that set them apart from all their peers. The clear and clean atmosphere of their home, together with the mutual respect that was always evident between their parents, made a powerful impression on the children, and was given formative expression in their individual personalities and temperaments.18

Among those who visited Lubavitch during this period was the youthful Peretz Smolenskin, who later abandoned the traditional path of Jewish life and acquired fame as a herald of modern Hebrew literature. In his semi-autobiographical novel, The Wanderer in the Paths of Life, he wrote that in Lubavitch “the court of the Tzadik was like the court of one of the nobles … with some five buildings built of stalwart wood upon stone foundations.”19 He also wrote that the Rebbe’s youngest son, Rabbi Shmuel, treated him amicably and even invited him to his own home to eat: “It goes without saying that I didn’t return from his home either hungry or thirsty. Both he and his wife, a woman of grace and good heart, ensured that my hunger was satiated and my thirst slaked beyond sufficiency.”20

IX - A Dream Comes True

On the 10th of Kislev in the year 1859, Rebbetzin Rivkah had a dream. This was the day on which her maternal grandfather, the Mitteler Rebbe, was freed from imprisonment in 1826, and it has been celebrated ever since as an auspicious date in the Chabad calendar. In her dream, Rebbetzin Rivkah was visited by her mother, Rebbetzin Sarah, who was accompanied by the Mitteler Rebbe. “Rivkah, you and your husband should write a Torah Scroll,” said her mother. “You will have a good son, and—also—don’t forget about my name,” said her grandfather. “Rivkah, heed what my father has said to you,” added her mother. With that she awoke.

The next day, Rebbetzin Rivkah was greatly preoccupied by the dream. Nevertheless, she didn’t tell anyone about it, not even her husband. A few days later, she was caring for her mother-in-law, who was feeling unwell. When her mother-in-law mentioned that she had dreamed during the night, the Tzemach Tzedek overheard the conversation and cited the Talmudic aphorism, “A dream is good for an invalid.”21 “Some,” he added, “opine that dreams are to be taken seriously, while others opine that they shouldn’t be believed.” Then he turned to Rebbetzin Rivkah: “A good dream,” he said pointedly, “should certainly be fulfilled.”

Rebbetzin Rivkah was struck by these words, and was reminded of the dream she had experienced just a few days earlier. She decided to tell her husband about it. But when she arrived home she found that her daughter was suffering from a sore throat and a fever. The next few days were simply too busy for her to think about her dream, and, once again, she all but forgot about it.

Then, on the 19th of Kislev, Rebbetzin Rivkah had another dream. This date has been a day of celebration in Chabad since 1798, when the Alter Rebbe was miraculously freed from imprisonment by the order of the tsar himself. In this dream, she was visited again by her mother and by her grandfather, the Mitteler Rebbe. But they were also accompanied by an older man. Said her mother: “Rivkah, you and your husband should write a Torah Scroll.” Said her grandfather: “You will have a good son.” Said the older man: “Amen, may G‑d make it so.” Said her mother: “Grandfather, bless her.”

At that moment, Rebbetzin Rivkah understood that the older man was the Alter Rebbe. Her mother and grandfather responded “amen” to his blessing. She too said “amen,” and awoke. Her husband, Rabbi Shmuel, had already risen from his sleep, but he was still in the room and heard her say “amen” aloud. After washing her hands, Rebbetzin Rivkah explained, “I dreamed a dream, I’ll come to your study soon and tell you about it.”

“Such a dream,” he said, after hearing the whole story, “is among the things that stand at the apex of the cosmos. We must certainly write a Torah scroll, and I must tell my father about this too.”

Parchment was procured, a scribe was commissioned, and by the time summer gave way to autumn the project was nearly finished. In consultation with the Tzemach Tzedek, Rabbi Shmuel scheduled a celebration marking the Torah’s completion for the day following Yom Kippur, 1860. Since Rebbetzin Rivkah was pregnant, he hired a caterer to prepare the celebratory meal. But all did not go as planned. Early in the morning on the appointed day, the Tzemach Tzedek called for Rabbi Shmuel and told him that the time had not yet arrived for the new Torah scroll to be completed. He didn’t give any reason. “The celebratory meal,” he added, “should be held as planned. I too will attend, and I’ll deliver a chassidic discourse as well.”

A Torah scribe depicted in an ex-libris design by the artist Solomon Yudovin (1892-1954), who grew up in the town of Beshenkovichi, in the same region as Lubavitch. - Center for Jewish Art
A Torah scribe depicted in an ex-libris design by the artist Solomon Yudovin (1892-1954), who grew up in the town of Beshenkovichi, in the same region as Lubavitch.
Center for Jewish Art

More than a month passed. Then, on Monday, the 13th of Cheshvan, the Tzemach Tzedek called for Rabbi Shmuel and told him that this was the day on which the new Torah scroll should be completed. “Invite the scribe to my room this evening. Also invite your mother, and we will celebrate the completion privately.” Rebbetzin Rivkah was also present, bringing with her the Torah scroll cover, which she had sewn and embroidered herself. When she entered the room, her father-in-law welcomed her with a blessing: “Mazal tov to you! May G‑d fulfill for you the blessing bestowed upon you by my father-in-law the Rebbe, and by my grandfather the Rebbe [i.e. the Mitteler Rebbe and the Alter Rebbe].”

One week later, on the 20th of Cheshvan, a boy was born to Rebbetzin Rivkah and Rabbi Shmuel. He would later become famous as the fifth leader in the Chabad-Lubavitch dynasty, known as the Rebbe Rashab. Many years later, when Rebbetzin Rivkah told this story, she noted a curious parallel between the celebration of the Torah scroll’s completion prior to the Rebbe Rashab’s birth and the subsequent celebration of his brit milah:

It was initially assumed that the brit would take place on the eighth day following the birth, as is ideal. Many guests came from the surrounding towns and villages, and a large feast was prepared. In the end, however, the baby was jaundiced, and the brit could not be held on the eighth day. On the evening before the scheduled celebration, the Tzemach Tzedek had intuited that the brit should be postponed. But his wife—who was quite ill and would pass away just a few weeks later—asked him not to say anything and let things take their natural course. Said the Tzemach Tzedek: “Just as the completion of the Torah scroll was ultimately held at its ordained time, so the newborn will ultimately be introduced into the covenant of Abraham, through the brit milah, at the ordained time.” Nevertheless, he respected his wife’s wish and kept his intuition to himself.

The next day, a large crowd gathered in the great hall of the Rebbe’s court, which was illuminated by many candles. As is customary, penitential supplications (tachanun) were omitted from the morning prayers. The Tzemach Tzedek was given the honor of holding the baby, and Rabbi Shmuel, the father, prepared to perform the circumcision himself. But on examining the baby, he determined that the baby was not healthy enough to undergo surgery. Other experts who were present concurred, and the baby was brought back to his mother. Nevertheless, the Tzemach Tzedek remained in his seat in the great hall, instructing that cake and schnapps be served, as is customary. He made a blessing, drank, and wished all the assembled “l’chaim!” He delivered a chassidic discourse and then instructed that the prepared feast be served, promising that he would return at its conclusion to deliver another discourse.

After a few days had passed, the Tzemach Tzedek called for Rabbi Shmuel. “Tomorrow,” he said, “you should perform your son’s circumcision. But it should be performed in the small synagogue in my home, without publicity, in the presence of your brothers and members of the inner circle, no more than twenty people. When Moses brought the second set of Tablets down from Mt. Sinai there was no publicity. Of the second set of Tablets, it is said: ‘It shall not depart from your mouth, and not from the mouths of your children, and not from the mouths of your children’s children—declares G‑d—from now until eternity.’”22

The child was named Shalom DovBer. His first name was that of Rabbi Shmuel’s paternal grandfather, Shalom Schachne Altshuler (husband of the Alter Rebbe’s daughter, Devorah Leah). His second name was that of Rebbetzin Rivkah’s maternal grandfather, the Mitteler Rebbe, who had personally requested that his name be given to the child when he appeared to his granddaughter in her dream.23

X - Reconfigurations

The rebuilding of the Tzemach Tzedek’s courtyard visibly reconfigured the hierarchy of the court in a way that hadn’t previously been apparent. Until then, it had always been the Rebbe’s second son, Rabbi Yehudah Leib, who was seen as his right-hand man, his closest confidant, and foremost proxy. Even now, Rabbi Shmuel tended to shrink from public authority and attention. Yet, the visual distinction and prominence of his home at the court’s center could not be missed. Likewise, the closeness between the Tzemach Tzedek and his youngest son could no longer be second-guessed. It was becoming ever more clear that he saw in Rabbi Shmuel and his family the promise of Chabad continuity.24

For some, these developments were worrying. For others, they were exciting. Beneath the calm, murmurs of division began to brew and swell. By this time, Rabbi Yehudah Leib was already well into his fifth decade; his gray beard and fiery spirituality evoked Chabad’s storied past. By contrast, Rabbi Shmuel’s youthfulness was complemented with a worldly equanimity and twinkling smile that seemed to hold the secret of the future.25 It doesn’t seem incidental that the aforementioned Smolenskin depicted Rabbi Yehudah Leib and Rabbi Shmuel in direct contrast to one another, as did many other observers.26

After moving into his new home, the Tzemach Tzedek decided to make duplicate copies of all his surviving manuscripts, to hedge against the possibility of their destruction by another fire. This task was entrusted to Rabbi Shmuel, once again signaling the particular confidence the Tzemach Tzedek had in his youngest son. Rabbi Shmuel put together a small team of scribes, oversaw their work, and paid them handsomely with funds provided to him by his father.27

Since his mid-teens Rabbi Shmuel had penned his own transcripts of his father’s maamarim. Moreover, the Tzemach Tzedek frequently gifted him with discourses recited for him alone. Some of these were new maamarim, but others were repeated as the Tzemach Tzedek had heard them from his grandfather, the Alter Rebbe. No one else was present, and no one else merited the same honor.28 In one manuscript, wherein Rabbi Shmuel personally inscribed maamarim by the Alter Rebbe, he also made a note that the Tzemach Tzedek told him about the original context in which a particular discourse was delivered.29

Anyone who examines Rabbi Shmuel’s handwritten transcripts can see that they are expressions of an expansive mind. The graceful style of his lettering, though penned with ink on paper, reflects the ideological and divine expansiveness that the words inscribe. Moreover, they also reflect the three elements that the sages list as expanding a person’s mind: “A beautiful home, a beautiful wife, and beautiful furnishings” (Berachot 57b).30

A page in the handwriting of Rabbi Shmuel Schneersohn, circa 1865. Library of Agudas Chassidei Chabad, Ms 1011, folio3. - Library of Agudas Chassidei Chabad
A page in the handwriting of Rabbi Shmuel Schneersohn, circa 1865. Library of Agudas Chassidei Chabad, Ms 1011, folio3.
Library of Agudas Chassidei Chabad

The Tzemach Tzedek’s move into his new home, and his decision to duplicate his manuscripts, marked the beginning of the final period of his leadership. Soon thereafter, Rebbetzin Chaya Mushka’s health began to deteriorate; she aged rapidly, weakened significantly, and passed away within a short period of time. The Tzemach Tzedek was distraught by the loss of his wife. He retreated into the solitude of his study, and a void began to grow between him and the world outside. When people sought his advice concerning either their spiritual or material concerns, as they had always done in the past, he rebuffed them. “Now,” he wearily declared, “I am left without counsel.”31

At the conclusion of the seven-day period of mourning, he called for Rebbetzin Rivkah: “From this point onward,” he said, “I ask that you take upon yourself all the responsibilities that previously fell upon the shoulders of your mother-in-law. The administration of my household, and of all aspects of the court, is now in your hands.”32 Practically speaking, the Tzemach Tzedek now became a member of Rebbetzin Rivkah’s household, and she ensured all his needs were taken care of. As was his habit throughout his life, he would study late into the night. Yet, his attendants were loath to interrupt him with such mundane necessities as a reminder to eat the evening meal. When Rebbetzin Rivkah realized that they were sometimes going to bed even if the Rebbe hadn’t eaten, she took it upon herself to wait up for him and personally ensure that he didn’t go hungry.33

The Tzemach Tzedek continued to deliver maamarim each Shabbat, following the morning prayers in the great hall across from his home. This became the one time when all the chassidim knew that they would still be able to see and hear the Rebbe. When he entered, a hush of anticipation would fall over the crowd, and they cleared a path for him to walk to the raised dais at the hall’s center. There, his sons would already be waiting, and when he sat upon his high-backed chair they would sit on benches flanking him.34

With each passing year, the Tzemach Tzedek’s voice grew weaker and weaker. Soon, it became all but impossible to hear him. Therefore, a new protocol was instituted: The maamar would be distributed in written form before Shabbat, so the chassidim could familiarize themselves with it before attending the Rebbe’s recital.35 They came to see more than to hear, for the Rebbe’s face glowed like white fire, and his sharp glance illuminated the mind and the heart in equal measure. Afterwards, each of the chassidim would go to one or another of the Rebbe’s sons to hear the maamar recited and elaborated.36

So it came to be that the great court in Lubavitch began to fracture into a constellation of satellite courts. Some of the sons also traveled to visit Chabad communities on their father’s behalf, and he empowered all of them to accept notes of supplication (known as a pidyon or kvitl) and bestow blessings in his stead. Though the Tzemach Tzedek was still alive, processes of transition were already underway. Among the chassidim, debate and speculation increased, and factions began to form. In particular, Rabbi Shlomo Zalman, a son of Rabbi Yehudah Leib who had long seen Rabbi Shmuel as a rival, cultivated a cohort of loyalists who whispered that there was only one son saintly and pure enough to inherit the Tzemach Tzedek’s seat.37

For several years following his mother’s passing, Rabbi Shmuel tried to evade the responsibilities of leadership from which his father was withdrawing. He continued to pray in the small synagogue in his father’s home, taking no more time and displaying no more ecstasy than any other congregant, and he initially resisted requests to repeat or explain his father’s maamarim.38 He was known for his wit and his worldliness, rather than for his scholarship or piety.39 Yet the great luminaries who were his father’s chosen protégés—such as Rabbi Peretz Chein of Nevel, Rabbi Yosef Tumarkin of Kremenchug, and Rabbi Ber of Borisov—were clearly drawn to him.40

Later, Reb Ber of Borisov would tell the following story:

“Once, while studying the most recent maamar of the Tzemach Tzedek, I came across a conceptual difficulty. It seemed impossible to reconcile the Rebbe’s teaching with what I knew from the authoritative Kabbalistic work Etz Chaim. Initially, I did not think to consult with the youngest of the Rebbe’s sons. But I was unsatisfied with the solutions offered by others, and noticed that the light was still burning in Rabbi Shmuel’s house at an unusually late hour. Suddenly, a spirit of curiosity overcame me. His home was built like those of the wealthy, with high windows. I grabbed a ledge, found a foothold, and hoisted myself up to the window. I peered inside and saw that Rabbi Shmuel was sitting and studying Etz Chaim.

“I climbed down and went round to knock on the front door. But it wasn’t opened immediately. I waited and knocked again. When Rabbi Shmuel did open the door, the Etz Chaim was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the table was strewn with French and German newspapers. ‘Reb Shmuel,’ I said, ‘I must admit that I had the audacity to peer through your window, and I could see exactly what you were studying. I mean no disrespect, but if you don’t agree to hear me out and discuss a question I have on the Rebbe’s maamar, I’ll have to tell everyone about the show you put on for me with these newspapers.’

“Hearing this, Rabbi Shmuel dropped his jocular guard. He graciously invited me in. We sat together till dawn, and I left his home filled with excitement.”41

Only in the last year of the Tzemach Tzedek’s life did he prevail upon his youngest son to take a more active role in leading the chassidim, delivering maamarim in public and offering counsel in private, just as his brothers did.42 At the same time, the Rebbe let it be known that he wanted all his sons to be treated equally by the chassidim, and he censured those who sought to put Rabbi Yehudah Leib on a pedestal above all the other brothers.43

In the autumn of 1865, a young man named Pinye Ber visited Lubavitch and merited a rare private meeting with the aged Tzemach Tzedek. By this point, Pinye Ber recalled, each of the Rebbe’s sons had a study hall of his own, and each had garnered a following among their father’s chassidim. Before attending the Rebbe’s delivery of the maamar, the chassidim prayed in the various study halls of his sons. After the Shabbat feast, and throughout the week, each would return again to hear the maamar repeated by the son of their choice. On Friday nights, however, after Kabbalat Shabbat, all would go to Rabbi Yehudah Leib for the final repetition of the previous week’s maamar.44

XI - Words of the Living G‑d

When Rosh Hashanah arrived, the Tzemach Tzedek was too weak to sound the shofar and read the haftarah, as he usually did. He decided to split these honors between three of his sons: Rabbi Baruch Shalom, the firstborn, who was famed for a humility that bordered on shyness, read the haftarah on the first day. Rabbi Yehudah Leib, the second son, whose soaring ecstasy had long earned him renown, read the haftarah on the second day. On both days, the shofar was sounded by the youngest son, who was gaining increasing notice for a striking mix of spiritual boldness and worldly groundedness, understated sagacity and youthful wit.45

All through that winter, the Tzemach Tzedek did not recite any maamarim in public. He immersed himself in study and prayer. He was always with a pen in hand, writing, rewriting, annotating, citing, and responding. This was his mode of study and thought, his mode of communication between the inner world and the world without. Likewise, anyone who wanted to ask something of him had to write a note and wait for a note of advice or blessing to be sent back in response. Towards the end, the effort required to hold the pen made itself evident in the tremorous imprint of his inscriptions.46 And yet, even when he had no strength to talk, the pen remained his friend.47

At the Tzemach Tzedek’s insistence, Rabbi Shmuel now went to the great hall every Shabbat to recite a maamar, exactly as his father used to. His discomfort was evident. He would always begin with an apologetic preface: “Once, on such and such an occasion, in this or that year, my father delivered a maamar beginning with this verse …” But after getting past the first few sentences, the words rolled off his tongue with clarity and confidence.48

A replica of the great hall in Lubavitch, under construction on its original site circa 2024. - Courtesy of My Lubavitch.
A replica of the great hall in Lubavitch, under construction on its original site circa 2024.
Courtesy of My Lubavitch.

Rabbi Shmuel’s maamarim plunged directly into the theological heart of Chabad’s intellectual tradition in a way that renewed old questions and upturned old answers. Local householders found themselves enthralled by his accessible style and lively rhetoric. For them, kabbalistic abstractions suddenly gleamed with tangible relevance. Learned scholars bent their ears attentively to his pithy conceptual formulations. They nodded at his glancing references and raised eyebrows at points of bold departure. Before anyone found themselves fighting the weight of a tired eyelid, Rabbi Shmuel had concluded the maamar and walked out briskly, leaving the crowd agape in his wake.49

On one such occasion, in the midst of that winter, one of the learned eyebrow-raisers shattered the rapt reception of Rabbi Shmuel’s maamar with a vehement protest. He jumped to his feet and shouted, “No!” But the door of the great hall had already swung shut behind the Rebbe’s youngest son, and he remained ignorant of the debate erupting over what he had said.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?!” responded another member of the assembled audience, “Yes! I agree it’s innovative, but that doesn’t make it incorrect!”

“With my own ears, I heard from Rabbi Yehuda Leib that he heard with his own ears from the Mitteler Rebbe, that all the teachings of his father, our great rebbe, the Alter Rebbe, had but one goal and one goal only: To implant G‑d’s oneness in the hearts of his listeners. There is nothing other than G‑d. The world that we see is nothing! Yet, here comes this youngster, and, as if merely repeating what he has learned, claims that the world as we see it is actually real!”

“Well, do you deny that the world is real?!”

“Yes! Of course I deny it!”

“Well, then why don’t you light a match on Shabbat? If the world isn’t real, then the match isn’t real either, and how can you be liable for doing ‘something’ with ‘something’ that doesn’t exist to begin with!”

“Ach! That’s an old question, it’s been answered a hundred times before, and none of the old answers lead to this conclusion …”

A throng quickly gathered around the two disputants. The face of the original protester was as red as a beet, and the tips of his mustache bristled as he waved his hand in dismissive frustration. A younger chassid placed a hand on his arm to restrain him, while others interjected with their own arguments and counter-arguments.

Soon everyone in Lubavitch was talking about the new maamar of Rabbi Shmuel, which began with the verse mi kamocha, from the Song of the Sea: “Who is like You, G‑d, among the mighty?”50 This question implies that other “mighty” beings do exist, and that their existence might mistakenly be compared to the existence of G‑d. Rabbi Shmuel’s line of interpretation seemed to reconfigure one of the most central pillars of Chabad thought. Is the world nothing more than a falsehood, or is the world itself a manifestation of G‑d’s true reality?51

The arguments this discourse instigated raged fiercely, and the following week Rabbi Shmuel did not come to the great hall at the usual time to recite a maamar. When the Tzemach Tzedek caught wind of the controversy, he called Rabbi Shmuel into his study and asked him to leave the transcript of “Mi Kamocha” with him in his study. It wasn’t long before the Rebbe’s attendant brought Rabbi Shmuel a note penned in the Tzemach Tzedek’s own hand:

To my beloved and cherished son, Rabbi Shmuel,

I saw your words, words of the living G‑d, and they were very good in my eyes. May G‑d strengthen your heart and increase your courage … “[I go the way of all the earth,] and you shall make yourself strong and be a man.”52 Open your mouth and my word shall shine forth. I reaffirm to you what I said to you directly … “Only be strong and courageous” to write and to speak53 … Do not back down before any man … G‑d shall make you successful spiritually and physically, to study and to teach, to guard and to fulfill …

Your father who seeks your welfare and the welfare of all members of our fraternity,

Menachem54

A handwritten copy of a note addressed by the Tzemach Tzedek to his son, Rabbi Shmuel, praising the chassidic discourse he had written and urging him to have “courage” and “not back down before any man.” MS 2045 in the library of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America in New York, folio 435a. - Jewish Theological Seminary of America
A handwritten copy of a note addressed by the Tzemach Tzedek to his son, Rabbi Shmuel, praising the chassidic discourse he had written and urging him to have “courage” and “not back down before any man.” MS 2045 in the library of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America in New York, folio 435a.
Jewish Theological Seminary of America

XII - Succession

The winter of 1866 came to an end, and the spring sunshine dried up the muddy roads. Rabbi Yehudah Leib, the Tzemach Tzedek’s second son, set out to visit Chabad communities in the southern reaches of the Russian Empire. He was in Kremenchug, which is now in Ukraine, when a telegram reached him carrying the bitter news of his father’s passing. Being the day before Passover, it was impossible for Rabbi Yehudah Leib to travel home immediately.55

The chassidim were distraught, but sought comfort in the knowledge that the Tzemach Tzedek was survived by six sons. Each of them alone, and all of them together, certainly had the spiritual wherewithal to continue the golden chain of Chabad’s noble legacy.56

By Rabbi Yehudah Leib’s own testimony, he was pressured by some chassidim in Kremenchug to accept the burden of leadership on his own shoulders. But he rebuffed them: “I do not want any change of title or any new departure at all from how it was before. Rather, I shall conduct myself as it was when my father was still alive, continuing to repeat chassidic teachings, etc., as before.”57

Meanwhile, in Lubavitch, the atmosphere was tense with rivalry between different factions among the chassidim. One group, led by the aforementioned Reb Shlomo Zalman, immediately began to demand that his father, Rabbi Yehuda Leib, be proclaimed the new rebbe in absentia. But most people simply ignored them. It seemed clear to them that the spiritual leadership had already been transferred to Rabbi Shmuel, just as the administration of the court had already been placed in the able and gracious hands of his wife, Rebbetzin Rivkah.

The days of mourning were cut short by the onset of Passover, and on the first night of the festival Rabbi Shmuel delivered a chassidic discourse beginning with the verse, “I am the L-rd, your G‑d, who brought you out from the Land of Egypt” (Exodus 20:2).58

Evidently, Rabbi Yehudah Leib would have preferred to avoid any conflict or split within the Chabad community. But so long as he was away from Lubavitch there was little he could do to reign in his loyalists. Some weeks later, when he finally arrived home, he found the town in a state of conflagration.59 There were two main camps: The supporters of Rabbi Yehudah Leib had pitted themselves against the supporters of Rabbi Shmuel. Rabbi Yehudah Leib himself reported that the local inhabitants of Lubavitch, including the proprietors of the hostels who provided lodgings to the many visiting chassidim, had taken the side of his youngest brother. What’s more, they were actively circulating copies of notes attributed to the Tzemach Tzedek, which seemed to anoint Rabbi Shmuel as his primary heir!60

The main Square in Lubavitch, filled with horse drawn carts. Photographed by Isaiah Pulner in 1930. By this time the Chabad court had been abandoned and destroyed, yet little else had changed since the 19th century, when visitors traveled great distances to visit the Tzemach Tzedek and the Rebbe Maharash. - The Kunstkamera, МАЭ И 1820-122
The main Square in Lubavitch, filled with horse drawn carts. Photographed by Isaiah Pulner in 1930. By this time the Chabad court had been abandoned and destroyed, yet little else had changed since the 19th century, when visitors traveled great distances to visit the Tzemach Tzedek and the Rebbe Maharash.
The Kunstkamera, МАЭ И 1820-122

Rabbi Yehudah Leib was many decades Rabbi Shmuel’s senior, and these developments were understandably difficult for him to understand, and even more so to accept. He poured his heart out in a letter to his brother-in-law, Rabbi Zalman of Kraslava, arguing his case, expressing his desire for peace, and asking for advice.61 Ultimately, he decided to leave Lubavitch, establishing a new court in the nearby town of Kopust.62 Many Chabad books had been published in that town, so it had already earned a prestigious place on the chassidic map.63 Throngs of chassidim traveled to hear his discourses there, just as they used to listen to him during the many years he lived in Lubavitch.

In the summer of 1866, all of the Tzemach Tzedek’s sons, including Rabbi Yehudah Leib, gathered in Lubavitch. The leading rabbis of Chabad were also present to oversee the negotiation of an agreement that all the brothers signed, attesting to their shared commitment to amicably perpetuate their father’s legacy.64 Rabbi Shmuel inherited his father’s seat in Lubavitch, while Rabbi Yehudah Leib and several other brothers went on to establish new courts in other towns.65

Named among the rabbis who attested to the agreement is Rabbi Yosef Tumarkin (1819-74), who had been appointed to the rabbinate of Kremenchug by the Tzemach Tzedek.66 A surviving letter from this period attests that he returned to Lubavitch as a committed devotee of Rabbi Shmuel. This letter was not penned by one of the key players in the controversy, but rather by one small-town chassid to another. “News has reached us, and I shall appraise you,” wrote Reb Yosef Kugel to his friend, Reb Avraham Chaim Rosenbaum. Journeying home from Lubavitch, he reported, Rabbi Tumarkin had shared copies of notes written by the Tzemach Tzedek. “It is clear from these notes,” he declared, “that Rabbi Shmuel shall be the new rebbe.” On hearing this, Reb Yosef wrote, “Our hearts were strengthened, our souls were revitalized, and we drank spirits in celebration!”67

XIII - The Rebbetzin

For the next sixteen years, Rebbetzin Rivkah presided over the Chabad court in Lubavitch alongside her husband, Rabbi Shmuel, who came to be known as the Rebbe Maharash. He largely entrusted the routine administration of the court to an attendant. This enabled Rebbetzin Rivkah to dedicate herself to the care and education of her young and growing family, and to the welfare of the community at large. Each month, the Rebbe Maharash would provide her with money to pay the children’s teachers, as well as with funds to distribute at her discretion to people she knew were in need. When those charitable funds ran out, she would habitually pawn her pearls to replenish them. Twice a year, before the festive seasons of Tishrei and Passover, the Rebbe Maharash would visit the pawnbroker to redeem her jewelry.68

The Rebbe Maharash was well known for his good humor and easy way with people. Once he accepted the leadership of Chabad, however, he kept to a strict and disciplined schedule. Of course, he would receive people for private audiences (yechidut), and also delivered maamarim in public. Nor was he above sharing a joke with the local wagoneers.69 But all his interactions, including with chassidim or with any other visitors to the court, were measured and brief. Increasingly, he was also burdened by ill health and experienced intense physical pain. One of the ways that Rebbetzin Rivkah protected his time was by making herself available to those who needed help or advice, and by welcoming distinguished visitors to the court.70

The signature of Rebbetzin Rivkah, and of her husband, the Rebbe Maharash, on a document held in the Russian State Library, OR F.182 No.435. - Russian State Library
The signature of Rebbetzin Rivkah, and of her husband, the Rebbe Maharash, on a document held in the Russian State Library, OR F.182 No.435.
Russian State Library

One such visitor was the Rebbe’s nephew, Rabbi Avraham Schneersohn of Kishinev (1860-1937), whose father led his own Chabad court in Nezhin. In the late 1870s, soon after Rabbi Avraham’s marriage, his father advised him to seek spiritual counsel from his uncle, the Rebbe Maharash. As a grandson of the Tzemach Tzedek, Rabbi Avraham was received in Lubavitch as an important guest. Rebbetzin Rivkah hosted a special reception in his honor, to which all the important personalities of the community were invited. The Rebbe Maharash, however, only made a brief appearance, as was his custom. Rabbi Avraham seized the opportunity. “Uncle,” he said, “I came because I need a yechidut.”

“This evening,” the Rebbe responded, “I’ve experienced tremendous physical pain. But the spiritual difficulty of giving counsel to a young man is even more painful than that. Tonight, I simply can’t do it. With G‑d’s help, tomorrow.”

The next day, indeed, the Rebbe Maharash received his nephew for a yechidut. Rabbi Avraham didn’t say anything about what passed between them, but he concluded his anecdote as follows: “I passed through Nezhin on my way back to Kishinev. ‘So,’ my father asked rhetorically, ‘did I advise you well?’”71

The respect accorded by the Rebbe Maharash to Rebbetzin Rivkah was legendary.72 He made a point of emphasizing that she wasn’t simply his wife, but a descendent of the first two Chabad rebbes in her own right. For example, in 1879, on the eve of the 10th of Kislev (which, as noted above, marks the Mitteler Rebbe’s release from imprisonment), the Rebbe Maharash joined the celebration hosted by Rebbetzin Rivkah. After sitting down at the table, he said: “Tonight the celebration is hosted by the grandchild. Tomorrow the celebration will be celebrated by another grandchild.” In other words, Rebbetzin Rivkah—who is a grandchild of the Mitteler Rebbe in her own right—was the host that evening. On the following day, the Rebbe Maharash would host an additional celebration.73

That evening, the Rebbe Maharash requested that several melodies be sung, and also delivered a maamar. Apart from that, he only made a few short remarks, the most substantial of which was: “When it comes to pedigree, there is no difference between a son and a daughter. Unfortunately, chassidim tend to train only their boys in the pathways of chassidic life. But they forget to train their girls in the pathways of chassidic life. This should not be the case.” After he stood up and returned to his room, the celebration continued for another hour or more.

After prayers the following morning, the guests were invited to await the Rebbe in the large dining room adjacent to his study. When he came out and sat at the head of the table, the Rebbe Maharash said: “Today the grandchild rejoices. My brothers, too, are grandchildren of the Mitteler Rebbe, and ‘grandchildren are like children.’74 But I was gifted with additional pedigree by my father, for he elicited a promise from my grandmother—who was also the mother of my mother-in-law—that she would bequeath her status as the ‘the wife of a sage’ as a dowry when we married. Therefore, by virtue of my marriage [to Rebbetzin Rivkah], I possess the status of grandchildren being ‘like children’ in an even deeper sense.”75

Rebbetzin Rivkah, for her part, likewise treated the Rebbe Maharash with utmost respect. Except at mealtimes, she was never seen to sit in his presence. Late one night, the hem of Rebbetzin Rivkah’s dress became caught as the door of her husband’s study latched behind her. The Rebbe was deeply immersed in his spiritual work and she was reluctant to disturb him. Rather than knocking, she sat on the steps that led from his door to the dining room (known as di zal mit di trep — “the hall with the steps”) and waited. When he opened the door a while later, he found that she was still sitting there.76

Following the custom of all his predecessors as leaders of Chabad, the Rebbe Maharash would enter the private room of the Rebbetzin, his wife, immediately before leaving for the synagogue on the eve of Rosh Hashanah. There he would bless her, and also request her blessing.77

On the eve of the last Rosh Hashanah of his life, the Rebbe Maharash was in a very sober mood. It was 1882, a period of great tribulation for Russia’s Jews. A new reactionary tsar was on the throne, a wave of violent pogroms had swept through the southern regions of the Empire, and restrictive decrees had been imposed on the Jews. The Rebbe Maharash had made several urgent trips to St. Petersburg, where he met with government officials and worked with other activists to lobby for more rights and protections. His health suffered even more as a result of the strain of these events, leaving him physically exhausted.78

Now, on the eve of the holy Day of Judgement, he wrote a pidyon and gave it to Rebbetzin Rivkah to read at the graveside of his father, the Tzemach Tzedek. In it, he requested that his father come to him from the World of Truth to give counsel as to the future.79

When Rebbetzin Rivkah returned, the Rebbe Maharash came to her private room, as he did every year. “My father,” he told her, “revealed to me that the decrees have been broken. Physical pogroms will no longer afflict us. Yet the spiritual threat has not abated. You must protect the children.”

Hearing these words, with their weighty implication that her husband would soon pass away, the Rebbetzin began to weep. “Certainly,” she pleaded, “you will be healed, and we will be together.”

“We will be together,” responded the Rebbe, “but in separate worlds. I will ascend thirty-one spiritual steps, and you will ascend thirty-one physical steps. After all, my father promised you a long life.”80

Less than two weeks later, on the 13th of Tishrei, 5643 (1882), the soul of the Rebbe Maharash ascended to heaven. Rebbetzin Rivkah would indeed outlive her husband by thirty-one years.

***

To be continued ...