An underlying theme throughout the Rebbe’s correspondences is the attempt to expand people’s self-perception, to help them view themselves as an indispensable part of something greater than themselves, to inspire them to recognize how within their own lives, circumstances, and talents lies an opportunity—and responsibility—to fulfill a unique purpose.1
To the rebellious young adult first charting their path in the world, he would explain that their youthful contrarian energy is a powerful, once-in-a-lifetime force that they can—and must!—harness for the good.2
To the businessperson, he would explain how they can make their work meaningful by finding opportunities to provide spiritual and material help to their colleagues and giving charity from their earnings.3
To the stay-at-home parent, he would explain how the imprint of the early days of childhood has a long-term impact on the future adult and how G‑d has entrusted them with the tremendous task of nurturing and educating this child, thus shaping countless generations ahead.4
To retirees, he would explain how the easing of work pressures provides an opportunity to study and volunteer on a whole new level, and encouraged them to share their hard-earned life wisdom with younger generations.5
To all types of people, in every station of life, he would try to impart the recognition that their specific position offers a special framework for fulfilling their designated purpose. Three examples follow.
Marcia Greensite grew up in San Diego, California. After completing her degree in psychology at UCSD, she took a job as a research assistant studying autism at the UCLA Neuropsychiatric Institute, while being active after hours at the local Chabad house (a center for all Jewish needs). At a certain point she decided to write to the Rebbe.
“I began,” Greensite recalled, “by writing how old I was and what I was doing. My secular job, I wrote, was at UCLA, and then I went on to say that I considered my activities at the Chabad house to be my real work. At the time, my passion lay in my work at the Chabad house, and I considered my research work at the Institute to be simply a job.
“Where I had written ‘my secular job,’ the Rebbe crossed out secular, leaving ‘my job,’ and expounded in the margin, ‘the purpose of which is the emotional wellbeing and healing of children.’ Clearly, he saw it as not simply a mundane occupation, but as a divine mission.”
Today Greensite is the executive director of a behavioral therapy agency that serves over one hundred children with special needs as well as a family therapist with a focus on teenagers. “Working with children became my life’s work,” Greensite says, “so the Rebbe’s message means a lot to me.”6
Baruch Nachshon was born in 1939 in Haifa, Mandatory Palestine, to a traditional Jewish family of European emigrants. An artistic, individualistic, and some might say eccentric soul, he began to draw at an early age. (He credited his kindergarten teacher with discovering his talent; she explained simply, “If I wanted quiet in class, I had to give this boy a paintbrush.”)
As an adolescent, he didn’t do well within the rigid structure of school and would often roam the fields and hills nearby. “Classes were stifling,” he recalled. “Their only redeeming factor was that they caused my mind to wander.” For his military service, he herded flocks for the army.
While his academic studies felt cold and uninteresting, he made significant strides in his artistic aspirations. He studied with Shlomo Nerani, a pupil of the Post-Impressionist artist Paul Cézanne, and would watch him work for long hours. They grew close, and Nerani considered Nachshon his artistic heir. However, alongside his artistic growth, a dark inner void gnawed at Nachshon, and he struggled with depression.
At some point, he happened upon the teachings of the Chasidic masters, and something there touched him.
“When my future wife expressed interest in marrying me, I told her she must understand what I was up to. I didn’t want to have children; I didn’t want a family; I didn’t feel a desire for anything. Everything looked black to me. The only thing I wanted was to travel to New York and go see the Rebbe. I sensed he was a man of truth amid this empty world of falsehood. If she was open to marrying a guy like that, I was down. Amazingly, she agreed.”
The newlywed couple saved whatever money they could, and in 1964, they set out on a grueling two-week boat journey to America. Soon after arriving, Nachshon had a private audience with the Rebbe that lasted for three hours.
“I did most of the talking, opening up all the dark thoughts and doubts that perturbed me, while the Rebbe listened closely. As the minutes passed, I felt that I was being raised from all the mire and darkness, that I was being freed from my personal Egypt that had been enslaving me for so long. I was slowly feeling whole again.
“At one point in the meeting, I said that because of all the inner turmoil I’d gone through in life, it was hard for me to be joyous. The Rebbe proposed a deal: When I felt the need, I could smile at him and he would smile back. And that’s what I would do. When I felt depressed, I would stand near the Rebbe’s office when he was scheduled to leave, and I would smile. He would always respond to me with a big broad smile of his own that in turn would resuscitate my spirit.
“At the very end of my audience, the Rebbe told me something that has stayed with me my whole life: ‘The talent of art has so often been misused; it is your task to elevate it.’ He then advised me to stay in New York for a year or two, explaining that there were good art teachers there and that this would allow me to perfect my talent. I walked out of the Rebbe’s study a different man.”
The following lines, which dominate a page in the unruly notebook of drawings, sketches, and musings that Nachshon kept a few years after this audience, appear to express his existential shift:
Everything considered—It’s all quite boring!
If there is nothing, one must create it.
This is all.
Signed,
Baruch Nachshon
After a few years of study in the U.S., Nachshon and his wife moved back to Israel. He spent the rest of his life drawing spirited paintings about the soul’s yearning for divine connection, bringing into vivid color some of the foundational teachings of Torah and Kabbalah. Occasionally, after spending time with his many children and grandchildren, he would stand up and head to his art studio. Echoing the Rebbe’s words to him, he would explain with a smile, “Sorry for leaving you; I have some ‘elevating’ to do.”7
(I heard this story firsthand from Nachshon in his home, two years before his passing.)
Avraham Zigman, who served for decades as a radio musical editor and program presenter, recalled the following from his own encounter with the Rebbe.
“During my audience, the Rebbe spoke with me about the best uses for one’s G‑d-given talents. If someone has a certain talent, no matter what his field of endeavor is, he should use it to spread the light of Torah. If he does not do so, he is harming creation. Why? Because G‑d entrusted him to utilize his talents and strengths to do good in this world.
“The Rebbe went on to address the medium of radio specifically. He explained that radio waves are especially powerful because they penetrate closed doors and places that are normally hard to reach. He added that those who work in radio must be extra careful. We must never hurt others through this medium by insulting or slandering people, or even just by speaking badly of others. We must watch carefully what comes out of our mouths and keep our language clean of crude or obscene words.
“I took his message to heart. I knew well that many songs that we played on the radio used coarse language, curse words, and a style of expression that was not appropriate. Therefore, someone like me, who made decisions about what we would broadcast, had to be careful to choose only those songs that were clean. And ever since the Rebbe brought this to my attention, I have followed his guidance in this regard.”8
Exercise
Think about where your talents and interests lie. Identify 1-2 roles you are uniquely positioned to fulfill.
This article is excerpted from chapter 3 of "Letters for Life."
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