Morah, Did You Ever See the Rebbe

By Inbal Levin, thevulnerableeducator.wordpress.com

“Morah, did you ever see the Rebbe?”

A question my students ask me often, yet it does not get easier to answer, no matter how many times I hear it.

As a teacher, I do not usually stumble over my words, but whenever this topic comes up, I find myself drawing a blank on how to respond.

Technically, I haven’t seen you before. Ever. I was born in April of ’94 and you passed away 2 months later, on June 12th. So growing up, my education of you was very much based on first-hand encounters and many videos and photographs.

I love hearing about you, so I always find a way to bring you up in conversation. Whenever people talk about you, I soak up all the details.

My father talks about your piercing eyes, how he got lost in your endless sea of blue, how he felt them penetrate his soul.

My teachers describe in great detail the Chassidic gatherings you led, emotion hangs onto their every word.

Countless others recount the hours they spent waiting in line to receive a dollar from your holy hand.

Now, I am a teacher- it is time for me to instill a love of you in my students. From the moment I accepted the role of a teacher, one of my priorities was to nurture a connection between you and my students.

It is for that reason that I call our classroom a Chabad House.

It is there where I talk about your piercing eyes, trying my best to describe something I have not actually seen.

It is there where I narrate to my students the famous Farbrengens, trying my best to make them experience something I have not witnessed first hand.

And it is there where I recite stories about you daily, trying my best to convey the details of an encounter I was not present at.

One day, I had my students gathered around the rug, sitting in a circle as I told them a Rebbe story.

Again, the question comes up:

“Morah, did you ever see the Rebbe?”

I think back to what you told the mourning Chassidim when the Friediker Rebbe passed away. You quoted a possuk from the Gemara about Yaakov Avinu’s passing: “If his children are alive, so is he”.

Well, as a teacher, I have the unique opportunity to see your children for most of the day.

And let me tell you, Rebbe- your children are definitely alive.

They have never met you in real life, yet recite your Kapital with the same respect a child has towards their father

Your children are alive, I promise.

They have never heard your voice in real life, yet chant your Niggunim, humming the holy tunes as they go about their day.

Your children are alive, I promise.

They don’t know what you look like in real life, yet converse daily about you as if they see you every day.

Your children are alive, I promise.

So, my dear students, I will be honest.

I have never met the Rebbe, I am in the same situation as you.

It is painful, it does not get easier with time.

But know this:

Our eyes have never met the Rebbe’s, but our souls certainly have.

This circumstance is just as distressing for the Rebbe as it is for us.

And just as we yearn so badly to meet the Rebbe physically, the Rebbe longs to meet us.

And it won’t be long, I promise.

It won’t be long, before we too will make eye contact with the Rebbe’s blue eyes.

Soon, oh so soon, we too will attend the Rebbe’s Farbrengens. Each of you will have an opportunity to stand by the microphone in 770 and recite a possuk in front of all the Chassidim. I will make sure of it.

And I have a feeling, that any minute now, our class will be standing in front of the Rebbe together.

We will each receive a dollar.

And then I will be able to proudly declare, “Yes my dear students, I met the Rebbe.”