This Sunday marks 31 years since the physical passing of the Lubavitcher Rebbe.
As I do every year, I’ll be visiting the Rebbe’s Ohel in Queens with 50,000 of my fellow Jews. I’ll wait in line for four hours, in the heat and humidity, just to have one minute at the Rebbe’s holy resting place. And every second of that wait will be worth it.
Because that minute isn’t just a visit: It’s fuel.
I miss the Rebbe every day. We all do. We miss his eyes, his smile, the warmth and caring in his voice, his guidance, his love, his fiery drive to do more, be more, reach more.
It’s been 31 long years but his mission remains vibrant and alive. It burns in our hearts, propelling us forward through life.
Every single morning, I wake up with the drive to carry out the Rebbe’s primary instruction: “Get the world ready for Moshiach.”
As a shliach, I am a soldier in the most powerful army to ever exist: the Rebbe’s army.
I am one of 5,000 shluchim, stationed in cities, suburbs, villages, islands, and war zones, each charged with the same mission: To ignite Jewish souls, to awaken Jewish pride, and to bring light to the darkest places on earth.
It is the greatest privilege of my life.
What does it mean to be a shliach? Here’s a glance into the past week:
A woman called me, sobbing. “Rabbi, my father passed away. His last wish was to be buried in Israel, but with Iranian missiles falling and travel locked down, I don’t think it’s possible.” I reached out to my WhatsApp group of fellow shluchim. A rabbi connected me to a contact in Europe, and somehow, through Frankfurt and with tense delays, her father made it to Israel.
On Wednesday, she called me in tears: “We did it. He was buried in Jerusalem, just like he wanted. I watched the funeral on Zoom. Thank you, Rabbi. Thank you so much.”
In the same week: A man needed his mezuzot checked. A woman bought her husband his first pair of tefillin. A grandfather called to choose a Jewish name for his newborn granddaughter. A family asked to kasher their kitchen. I sent my 13-year-old son — his first solo mitzvah mission — and he did an amazing job.
Next week, I’ll officiate a wedding in Mexico, setting up the couple to build a new Jewish home with love, joy, and strength.
What gives me the energy to do this week after week, year after year? The Rebbe.
It’s also the Rebbe’s teachings that gave me the strength to calm my daughter, who was stuck in Israel during the recent missile attacks.“Eretz Yisrael is the safest place on earth,” the Rebbe reassured us countless times. So I remained calm — and that calm gave her strength.
It’s the Rebbe’s inspiration that fuels my Torah classes, many of which are now on YouTube, reaching Jews far and wide. And it’s the Rebbe vision that inspired me to compile all my blogs into a book which came out this week and is now in stores all over New York, illuminating the city that never sleeps.
It’s also what inspires our work with over 2,000 wounded IDF soldiers. This week, some of them lost their homes in the war, but we were there with food packages, practical assistance, and of course, endless love and support.
The Rebbe taught us: Every Jew matters. Every Jew is our responsibility.
That is why I do what I do.
So in honor of the Rebbe’s yahrzeit, go out and do something.
Put on tefillin and inspire someone else to put on tefillin as well. Light Shabbat candles and inspire someone else to light them too. Give tzedakah. Say Shema with your kids. Call someone who feels forgotten. Visit someone who could use a pick-me-up. Invite someone for Shabbat. Help a soldier. Learn some Torah. Do one more mitzvah — any mitzvah — in honor of the Rebbe today.
This is how we bring Moshiach, when we will be reunited with the Rebbe and all our loved ones. May it happen immediately.