Dear Rebbe
I miss you. We all miss you.
It's been 22 long, dark years since we last saw you.
Twenty-two years is a long time. Too long.
More than two decades have passed since we had the privilege of hearing you bless, inspire and teach us.
Rebbe, the world has changed tremendously over the last 22 years.
In 1994 we were using VHS, cassette tape recorders, transistor radios, walkmans, calculator watches, dial-up modems, floppy discs and VCR's.
Now our children don’t even know what any of those technologies are. Instead we use email, smartphones, YouTube, Facebook, Instagram, tablets and wifi.
Not only has the world changed, but at times it seems that humanity itself is deteriorating rapidly. Terrorism is growing, the stability of long-time Western super-powers is in question, and the world seems ever more dangerous. Concerning, too, are people’s reactions to terror. People care more about a gorilla being shot to save a toddler’s life than they do about a 13-year-old girl who was brutally murdered in her bed.
After 22 years of darkness, it’s hard to stay optimistic, Rebbe. I struggle to convey to my children the fire you lit within us and how connected we were to you. I struggle with my own cynicism and doubt. I struggle to keep your vision and mission in the forefront of my mind.
There was once another child torn away from his father for 22 tortuous years. Joseph. He was separated from his beloved father Jacob, sold into slavery, and exiled to Egypt with absolutely no glimmer of pending salvation.
What kept Joseph strong during those 22 years? The Torah that his father had conveyed to him when he last studied with him.
Like Joseph, we have not forgotten what you taught us. Although the world has changed drastically, one thing that has not changed since 1994 are your words of hope and inspiration which we continue to cherish.
Rebbe, you taught us to believe in humanity. You taught us to believe in the power of goodness, hope, and the ultimate triumph of light over dark. You promised that we will ultimately prevail and that we will see the arrival of Moshiach in our generation. And that has not changed. That promise is what has kept us going for the last painful 22 years.
Elie Wiesel, who just passed away this week, came to see you after the Holocaust. The victim of unfathomable suffering and atrocities, he expressed his refusal to bring children into this dark and bitter world. But you taught him to believe. You taught him to continue, to have children, and that doing so would be the best revenge against those who had tried to obliterate the Jewish people.
Rebbe, you promised us that the darkness will end soon. We’re still waiting.
Wouldn't now be a good time to reunite?
Rabbi Uriel Vigler