November 2002 Vol. 84 No.3


Letter from Brooklyn
Chabad and Messianism
By Adam Dickter
 
Menachem Mendel Schneerson inspired many in the observance of Judaism. But is there room in Orthodoxy for the belief in a messiah who died and will rise again?
 

When eating outside his home, David Berger has been known to pay extra-close attention to food labels. It’s not that he’s a picky eater, or adheres to an extreme standard of kashrut. Rather, the Brooklyn College history professor and author, who has gained notoriety with his fervent critiques of Lubavitch messianism, won’t eat products supervised by anyone who believes Menachem Mendel Schneerson, known to his followers as “the Rebbe,” is the moshiah.

“I would not treat a messianist as an Orthodox rabbi,” he says. “I would not do anything to give him symbolic recognition.” That includes participating in a beit din, or rabbinic court, in which a Lubavitch messianist presides.

Since the 1994 death of Schneerson, who led a worldwide movement of tens of thousands of Hasidim, a large segment of his followers believe he was, and continues to be, the legendary redeemer whose ultimate arrival is a central tenet of Orthodoxy. This despite the classic Jewish definition of moshiah as a person who brings about an enlightened, transformed age in his lifetime.

Some critics charge the Rebbe himself actively fueled the conviction that he is the messiah. Others may view the belief that he’ll return as a salve for the pain of losing a leader who changed the lives of so many by inspiring close observance of Judaism. But the indisputable practical effect is that the movement shows no sign of appointing a successor to the childless Schneerson, who was fifth in the line of Lubavitch rabbis. This sets Lubavitch apart from most other Hasidic sects.

For the most part, the various streams of Orthodoxy have winked at this claim, rarely acknowledging, no less criticizing, the phenomenon.

Not so in the case of Berger, who warns of an imminent threat to the very continuity of Judaism in The Rebbe, the Messiah and the Scandal of Orthodox Indifference (Littman Library). Since its publication, Berger has been the subject of two Lubavitch books written in rebuttal. And an article in the Yiddish weekly Algemeiner Journal even compared him to Osama bin Laden. “The article is completely about me, but the only picture is of bin Laden,” says an amazed Berger.

But he didn’t write the book to gain popularity. “I went into [it] with my eyes open,” says Berger, a fellow at the American Academy for Jewish Research, who was ordained at Yeshiva University’s rabbinic seminary.

Yet despite his insistence that he is not out to tarnish the entire Lubavitch movement, known by the acronym Chabad, that’s the way Rabbi Aaron Raskin sees it. The spiritual leader of Congregation B’nai Avraham in Brooklyn Heights, who comes from a prominent Chabad family, considers the book a smear.

During part two of a four-part lecture series on Berger’s book, the rabbi, sitting before a copy marked with green highlight pen, directs some 25 listeners to page 63. There, a known critic of Lubavitch is quoted speculating that the Rebbe often visited the grave of his predecessor so it would become established as a shrine after his own death.

“The fact that Dr. Berger states this rabbi is hostile toward Lubavitch, and yet he puts this quote into the book, is very aggravating and very condescending,” says Raskin, sitting beneath a large oil painting that depicts all five deceased Rebbes resurrected and walking down a street.

Although Raskin pleads “the Fifth” when asked if he believes Schneerson is moshiah, he admits his lecture series is a good “implement” to spread the word that the time of redemption has arrived. He insists there is no division within the Chabad movement between messianists and nonmessianists.

“The major controversy is not so much about whether the Rebbe was fit to be moshiah,” says Raskin. “The controversy is what should be the emphasis of the moshiah campaign.” In other words, the division is over whether they should propose the moshiah message to the rest of the world, or keep it internal while focusing on outreach.

Rabbi Zalman Posner, a widely respected Lubavitcher from Nashville, offers a different assessment in the fall issue of the Orthodox Union’s Jewish Action magazine. He writes that there are three Lubavitch factions: those who do not identify moshiah, those who believe Schneerson will return, and “deifiers” who are, in his view, “beyond the pale.”

There has been almost no public discourse on the subject. At Berger’s behest, the Rabbinical Council of America, affiliated with the OU, issued a carefully formulated statement in 1996, declaring “There is not and never has been a place in Judaism for the belief that Moshiah ben David will begin his messianic mission only to experience death, burial and resurrection before completing it.” The resolution does not mention Lubavitch.

Earlier this year, in a rare public manifestation of this conflict, Rabbi Marc Angel of Congregation Shearith Israel in New York and a former RCA president, called on his congregants to avoid a West Side deli—its owner included a rebbe-as-moshiah message in Yiddish alongside the sandwiches on the menu.

Dennis Prager, a syndicated commentator who grew up Orthodox but now attends a Reform temple in California, has defended Lubavitch, saying the messianists have little influence on the overall good work of Chabad in awakening Jewish identity.

But others see a danger. Rabbi Eric Yoffie, leader of the Reform movement’s Union of American Hebrew Congregations of America, the largest synagogue body in the country, officially said he felt the phenomenon is “not inherently important enough for us to deal with as a movement.”

But on his own behalf, he said, “The historical experience of the Jewish people demonstrates that messianism is madness. Wherever it has surfaced, it has led the Jewish people again and again to disaster.” Insisting that most Jews attribute messianism more to folklore than Scripture, Yoffie added that “Chabad, by bucking these tendencies, is taking dangers upon itself and creating dangers for the rest of us that can’t easily be dismissed.”

While there is enough ex-egesis in Berger’s book and Raskin’s lectures for a weeklong debate, the crux of the argument is this: Berger sees the concept of belief in a deceased messiah who could be resurrected to complete his mission eerily closer to Christianity than to Judaism. Those who adhere to that belief, he insists, must be ostracized, stripped of the ability to certify kashrut or render decisions in Jewish courts of law.

Defenders insist the practice of cohering to a pious and prophetic figure is classic Judaism, dating back to the Patriarchs, whose tomb in Hebron is visited at least as often as the Rebbe’s grave site in Queens. They insist the Rebbe is not worshiped as a deity, but viewed as a heavenly intermediary.

During his lecture, Raskin reveals that the Rebbe’s office at 770 Eastern Parkway in Brooklyn has been maintained as it was when he presided there, and several times a week Hasidim enter, sit at his desk and ask for his guidance.

Berger writes that the pious appearance of the Hasidim makes one hesitate to ostracize them, and quotes a colleague who says, “If the messianists looked [cleanshaven] like you, people would react differently.” He also suggests that the worldwide Lubavitch movement is simply too interwoven into the fabric of Judaism to be cast aside.

Samuel Heilman, a sociology professor at Queens College, believes that while Orthodox leaders may be uncomfortable with Lubavitch’s messianic beliefs, they have remained silent out of self-interest.

“Anyone who travels has made use of their minyans, rabbis and shehita [kosher slaughtering],”said Heilman, author of Defenders of the Faith (Schocken), a critical study of ultra-Orthodoxy. “There is a reluctance on the part of many of these people to bite the hands that feed them. There is also a feeling in many precincts that Chabad is doing important outreach work that we should be doing more of.”

But Raskin insists Lubavitch messianism is nothing more than the time-honored Jewish tradition of seeking a role model who can lead Torah Jewry to an enlightened age.

“In every generation there is a potential moshiah,” Raskin says. “Each of us has a spark of moshiah in us.”

Lubavitch messianists simply argue that if there would be a moshiah chosen in this generation, then surely the Rebbe is the one who will redeem us.

 

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