Rabbi Lipskar was a very accomplished Shliach—but he never stopped. He always asked, “What’s next?”
Rabbi Lipskar
This week, one of the most well-known Chabad Shluchim, Rabbi Sholom Dovber Lipskar, A”H passed away in Florida. I want to take a few moments to share some stories about him—and more importantly, what we can learn from his life.
When Rabbi Lipskar first went out on Shlichus to Florida in the early 1970s, he was young and on fire. He threw himself into the work, trying to connect with every Jew he possibly could. On his way to shul on Shabbos, he would go out of his way to speak to any Jew he came across.
The Forgotten Mission
One time, they met a young Jewish girl and invited her for Shabbos. That Shabbos meal was the beginning of her journey—she started keeping Shabbos and becoming more observant. She also shared with them that her parents were divorced, and her mother was now in a new relationship.
Rabbi Lipskar used to write regular reports to the Rebbe about his activities. In one such letter, he mentioned this girl and her family. The Rebbe replied with a clear instruction: make sure the mother receives a halachic Get.
He tried to contact the mother, but it turned out she was somewhere traveling in India. They couldn’t reach her. Time passed, and with everything else going on, he forgot about it.
About a year later, he came to New York after a very successful period of work and merited a yechidus with the Rebbe. He was excited to share all of his accomplishments.
Like Chassidim do, he prepared a note with all the things he wanted to report, and handed it to the Rebbe. As the Rebbe quietly read it, Rabbi Lipskar stood there feeling satisfied—like he had really done his job well.
Then the Rebbe looked up and asked, “What’s with the young girl and her mother?”
At first, he didn’t remember what the Rebbe meant. But then it hit him. He had completely forgotten, but the Rebbe hadn’t.
From that moment on, he didn’t remember anything else from the yechidus. His wife later told him that the Rebbe had given them many beautiful blessings—but he was just waiting to leave the room so he could act immediately to correct his mistake. And he did.
The Awakening
One time, Rabbi Lipskar was hospitalized for a medical test. The next morning, his wife kept calling—but he wouldn’t pick up. Eventually, his hospital roommate answered.
She asked to speak to her husband. He told her he was asleep. She said, “Wake him.” He said, “I can’t.”
She screamed for him to call the doctors. They rushed in and found him in a coma. When she arrived, the room was full of medical staff and they didn’t even let her in.
She immediately went to the nurses station and called the Rebbe’s office to report what had happened. Five minutes later, Rabbi Hodakov called back and said, “I need to speak to Sholom Ber.” She told him her husband couldn’t speak. He said, “The Rebbe gave me a message to deliver—I have to speak to him.”
The nurses forwarded the phone call to his room and she ran and pushed her way into his room, picked up the phone and held it to up her unresponsive husband’s ear.
The next thing Rabbi Lipskar remembers is that he heard the Rebbe’s voice, giving him an instruction: Professor Branover was coming to Florida and needed to be introduced to influential people.
The Rebbe did not ask him how he was feeling – the way to cure him, was by entrusting him with an important mission. This woke him up from the coma.
Caring for the Prisoners
Rabbi Lipskar accomplished many great things, but perhaps the most famous was the founding of the Aleph Institute. In 1981, the Rebbe spoke at a farbrengen about a group of Jews that no one was helping, though he had mentioned it many times.
The Rebbe was referring to Jewish inmates. Rabbi Lipskar, who was present at that farbrengen, took it to heart. He wrote to the Rebbe that he would take it on, and asked for the Rebbe’s bracha.
The Rebbe immediately replied, “Tach Tach”—thank you very much. Rabbi Lipskar got to work. It was hard at first, but little by little, he managed to convince the prison officials how important it was to provide for the spiritual needs of Jewish inmates. Not just matzah on Pesach—but a full Seder, with maror, charoset, all the traditional items. Every Jew, even a prisoner, deserves a proper Yom Tov.
At first, people didn’t want to give money to support Jewish prisoners. “Why should we help criminals?” they said.
But the Rebbe obviously didn’t agree. The Rebbe once quoted a Midrash (Vayikra Rabba 27:5) that says: “G-d looks after the persecuted”—even if the persecuter is righteous and the persecuted is wicked. The Rebbe called this “a moirediker Midrash, an amazing Midrash!” Even if someone truly did wrong, if they are vulnerable and alone right now—Hashem is with them.
The Rebbe himself donated three checks: $1,000 for the Pesach project, $1,000 for tefillin, and $1,000 for other expenses. Once people saw that the Rebbe was supporting it, fundraising became much easier.
The Rebbe’s Sensitivity
In 1985, Rabbi Lipskar get permission to bring 20 inmates from twelve federal prisons to Crown Heights for a Shabbaton—to experience Shabbos with the Rebbe. The highlight of the visit was the farbrengen. Rabbi Lipskar made sure they had good seats.
Just before the Rebbe came in, his secretary Rabbi Groner came down and called out, “Where’s Sholom Ber Lipskar?” When he found him, he told him that the Rebbe had said: “The people who came from prison should not sit all together at one table.”
Most of the crowd there looked Chassidic—black hats, beards, long coats. But the inmates were clean-shaven, dressed in a modern style. If they sat all together, people might start asking questions. It could be embarrassing. The Rebbe didn’t want that. So they spread them out among the crowd, and five minutes later, the Rebbe entered.
The Only Ones Who Care
Rabbi Lipskar would explain just how essential Aleph’s support really is. For example, there are times when inmates are allowed to use the phone to call family or friends—but some have no one to call. Their families cut them off. Friends want nothing to do with them.
And that’s dangerous. Because when other inmates see that no one cares about a person—no one to call, no one asking about him—that makes him vulnerable. Others feel like they can do whatever they want to him. So many inmates would stand in line just to call the Aleph Institute— to show that someone out there cares.
(My own son Shalom spent two summers visiting inmates as part of Aleph’s programs. He told me how in Florida’s prisons, there’s no air conditioning. You can imagine how much the inmates suffer in the summer in Florida. When he and his friend met the inmates in an air-conditioned room, they would try to drag the meeting as long as possible—just for a few more minutes of cool air.)
The Aleph Institute today works with over 5,000 Jewish inmates. It’s not easy work—every state has its own laws, and even when one office approves something, they still need permission from each individual prison, warden, administrator, and so on.
But despite the difficulties, they have had tremendous success, and the organization has brought many, many Jews back to Yiddishkeit and a better path, helping them go on to build families and live successful Jewish lives.
“Acharei” — What’s Next?
This week we read the double portion of Acharei Mot and Kedoshim. Acharei Mot begins by telling us of the passing of Aharon’s two sons. On the day the Mishkan was inaugurated, they entered the Holy of Holies with incense out of pure passion and longing for G-d—and their souls left them in that moment of ecstatic closeness.
Right after that, the Torah goes into great detail about the service of the Kohen Gadol on Yom Kippur—entering the Holy of Holies with incense. What Aharon’s sons did without permission, the Kohen Gadol is actually commanded to do.
The Rebbe pointed out that when we learn Torah about a particular subject, it’s a reenactment of that subject. It is as if we are doing it at this very moment. So when a Jew learns about the Yom Kippur service, he becomes like the Kohen Gadol, standing in the holiest place on the holiest day. He’s reached the highest spiritual peak.
And yet, the name of the parsha is Acharei—“after.” Because—the Rebbe explained—even after reaching such heights, a Jew must never say, “I’ve done enough.” A Jew always has to ask, “What now? What comes next?”
Rabbi Lipskar lived his whole life based on this message. He never stopped at any success. He always asked himself, “What’s next? What more can I do?”
A Jew has to keep going forward. Even after Yom Kippur, there’s always something higher—because Hashem is infinite. And when a Jew connects to Hashem, he connects to the infinite.