The Visit That Shook America

Ninety-five years ago this week, something happened in America that had never happened before—and hasn’t happened since.

The Royal Visit

This week marks exactly ninety-five years since one of the most extraordinary visits in the history of American Jewry. 

No Jewish figure—since the beginning of America’s Jewish community until today—ever received a public welcome the likes of which the Previous Rebbe received when he arrived in 1929.

The visit took place two years after the Rebbe made headlines around the world. Because he was at the forefront of the efforts to keep Judaism alive in the Soviet Union, the communists had arrested him—and it was only due to international pressure that he was released and allowed to leave the Soviet Union. When the events took place in 1927, it was widely reported throughout the world and in the American Jewish press as well.

So by the time the Rebbe arrived in America in 1929, he was already a world famous figure. Everyone had heard of the Lubavitcher Rebbe who had stood up to the mighty Soviet empire—a country that instilled fear not only in Europe but even in the United States.

Everyone Came To See Him

The Rebbe arrived in New York on the 12th of Elul. That morning, crowds gathered to see him step off a small boat that had ferried him from the large ocean liner that brought him from Europe, an arrangement that was made so he wouldn’t have to wait in line with the general public at immigration.

There’s black-and-white video footage from that visit. You can see a very dignified image of the Rebbe stepping off the ship onto the smaller boat, and then onto shore. You also see the large crowd pushing in to catch a glimpse of him. And that was just the beginning.

When he arrived at the home prepared for him in Boro Park, there were already hundreds of people waiting in the rain, just hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Eventually, the Rebbe stepped out onto the second-floor balcony and spoke for a moment, thanking everyone for the warm welcome and giving his blessing for a happy and sweet new year. 

Then, once the Rebbe was already on American soil, it suddenly became clear to the organizers just how widespread the interest in seeing him was. Jews of all backgrounds—men, women, and children—wanted to visit him, or at least attend an event where he would be present.

At the time, there were 250 synagogues in the U.S. that followed the Nusach Ari—the Chabad siddur. Many of the people who davened there weren’t Lubavitchers themselves, but their parents or grandparents had been. They remembered how their zeide would speak with longing about the Rebbe. And now, here they were—seeing the Rebbe with their own eyes. The excitement and joy were indescribable.

After spending a few days in Boro Park, a new apartment was rented for the Rebbe in Crown Heights, which at the time was a wealthy Jewish neighborhood, home to many Jews who were distant from observance. On Rosh Hashanah, the Rebbe davened at a shul in Brownsville that had 1,200 seats. The place was packed wall to wall—everyone wanted the chance to daven near the Rebbe. Hundreds more stood outside by the doors and open windows, just to be able to “daven with the Rebbe.”

The primary reason the Rebbe came to America was to raise awareness about the harsh reality facing Jews in Soviet Russia. He wanted American Jews to know how the Communist regime was shutting down synagogues and mikvahs, and ruthlessly suppressing all expressions of Jewish life. 

His goal was to raise substantial funds to help those who had lost their livelihoods simply because they refused to work on Shabbos, or for the Rabbis and religious leaders who were being forced to abandon their roles—because being a rabbi, shochet, mohel, or sofer was considered “anti-Communist” and could land you in prison. 

But all those plans suddenly changed. Right after the holidays, on October 24th, “Black Thursday” struck—the New York Stock Exchange crashed. Thousands of people lost their entire fortunes, companies went bankrupt, and businesses collapsed. Overnight, thousands of Jews lost their jobs, and things only got worse from there. The Rebbe’s visit now took on a very different character. He focused instead on strengthening the faith and trust of the broken-hearted Jews who were suddenly facing a devastating crisis here in America.

Before, people simply wanted to see the Rebbe. Now, after losing their livelihoods—and even more painfully, the dream that “America, the Goldene Medine,” would save them—people needed the Rebbe’s strength and encouragement more than ever.

Traveling America 

After many events and appearances in New York attended by thousands of Jews, the Rebbe began traveling to visit other cities.

On 13 Kislev, the Rebbe traveled to Philadelphia. Hundreds of Jews were waiting for him at the train station, and there was a loud cry of “baruch habah” when his figure appeared in the doorway. 

From there, he was taken in a motorcade to Independence Hall, where again thousands awaited him. The Rebbe was honored to take a seat in the chair once used by none other than George Washington, the first President of the United States.

From there, the Rebbe was brought to the Liberty Bell, which stands in front of Independence Hall, where they gave him a wreath of flowers which he placed at its base and declared, “Freedom based on faith is the strongest kind of freedom.” He remained in Philadelphia for about a month, with brief interruptions, and then continued on to Baltimore—where the same scenes repeated themselves.

At that point, the Rebbe’s close chassidim noticed what seemed like a “strange custom.” On the day he arrived in a new city, the Rebbe would fast. Concerned, they asked him about this practice—amd the Rebbe explained, “Kavod darf men oisdaren, Honor needs to be fasted out.” In other words, he fasted so the tremendous honor he was receiving wouldn’t bring him personal enjoyment.

The next stop was Chicago. In those days, the Rebbe had many chassidim there, and some of Chabad’s biggest supporters lived in the city as well.

One Yiddish newspaper in Chicago published a touching story about an elderly chossid standing at the train station waiting for the Rebbe with his sons and grandsons. With tears in his eyes, he told them how he had merited to see the Rebbe’s grandfather—the Rebbe Maharash—and the Rebbe’s father, the Rebbe Rashab. And now, he was overcome with emotion to be able to see the grandson—the Rebbe himself. He stood there weeping from joy.

The newspapers described how, when the Rebbe’s train arrived in Chicago, the moment the door of his train car opened and he appeared, the crowd surged forward. The crowd was so massive that the Rebbe couldn’t even step off the train.

There was serious concern that the train would have to continue to the next stop just so the Rebbe could get off safely. But eventually, a few strong chassidim made their way to the Rebbe, took him by both arms, and cleared a path so he could exit the train.

The Rebbe’s visit continued from city to city. He visited Detroit, and then traveled to St. Louis, where he was given a grand reception in a synagogue that seated two thousand people.

The organizers shared an interesting observation. When Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak Kook, the first Chief Rabbi of the Land of Israel, came to speak in that same synagogue, only half the seats were filled. When Chaim Weizmann, president of the World Zionist Organization, spoke there afterward, the turnout was a bit larger.

But when word got out that the Lubavitcher Rebbe was coming, every ticket was snatched up—and over a thousand people stood outside. Thanks to the open doors and windows, even those outside could hear the Rebbe’s words.

From there, the Rebbe traveled to Milwaukee and other cities. Toward the end of the visit, he went to the nation’s capital, Washington, D.C., where he met with President Herbert Hoover. On Thursday, the 21st of Tammuz 5689—exactly 95 years ago—he concluded his visit and returned to Europe.

The Special Radiance

From that day until today, no Jewish figure has received such a massive and loving welcome as the Rebbe did. And it wasn’t only religious Jews. The newspapers wrote about wealthy women affiliated with the Reform movement who arrived in their fancy cars, with private chauffeurs, just to have a chance to meet the Rebbe.

The Rebbe sparked a powerful wave of Jewish awakening. He was, in many ways, the first real “shliach” in America. He spoke about building mikvahs, opening cheders and yeshivos, keeping kosher, observing Shabbos, and so much more.

What was the Rebbe’s secret? What was it that drew thousands of people toward him? Perhaps the answer lies in this week’s Torah portion.

In this week’s parsha, Parshas Pinchas (Chapter 27), G-d tells Moshe to ascend Mount Avarim, where he will see the Land of Israel. Then, G-d says, “You will be gathered to your people, just as Aharon your brother was”—in other words, Moshe will soon pass away and will not enter the Land of Israel.

And then we read an unusual verse: “And Moshe spoke to G-d.” Usually, the Torah says, “And G-d spoke to Moshe.” But here, Moshe turns to G-d with a request—that He appoint a leader for the Jewish people. As Rashi explains (verse 16), a leader “who will be patient with each person according to their understanding”—someone who can relate to each Jew as they are, and love them no matter who they are or where they’re holding.

G-d answers Moshe: “Take for yourself Yehoshua bin Nun, a man in whom there is spirit, and place your hand upon him.” Appoint him in public, so the people will see that he is their new leader. 

But that wasn’t enough. In the next verse, G-d gives Moshe another instruction: “Venasata mei’hodcha alav, And you shall bestow some of your hod upon him.” What does that mean? What exactly is this “hod” Moshe was told to pass on to Yehoshua?

Rashi explains (verse 20) “This refers to the radiance of the face”—the glow on Moshe’s face.

When Moshe came down from Mount Sinai the second time, the Torah tells us that Aharon and all the people were afraid to approach him, “for the skin of his face shone with light” (Shemos 34:30). Moshe’s face radiated a powerful spiritual glow. People—on the one hand—wanted to see him; on the other hand, they were afraid to come too close. And this was the hod G-d instructed Moshe to transfer to Yehoshua. 

But how does one transmit a glow? Passing on Torah knowledge, granting semichah—that’s understandable. But how do you pass on a radiance?

Rashi continues: From here we learn, “Moshe’s face was like the sun; Yehoshua’s face was like the moon.” Yehoshua didn’t have his own independent light. Like the moon reflects the light of the sun, Yehoshua reflected the light of Moshe. He was Moshe’s mirror.

When you read the newspaper reports describing the Previous Rebbe’s appearance during his 1929 visit to America, you can sense that very same glow. They describe the radiance of his face, “He is a man whose face you cannot forget—even if you’ve only seen him once.” And especially his eyes, “His eyes pierce a person. It feels as if they see right into your soul.”

As another newspaper described the Previous Rebbe, “A slightly pale face, with a blond beard turning gray, and eyes filled with sorrow—the Rebbe leaves an unforgettable impression.” Another wrote: “The Rebbe, with a face illuminated by the Shechinah, always seemed deep in thought, as if the entire tragedy of the Jewish people was reflected in his expression.”

What people saw in the Rebbe was that very same hod—the spiritual radiance—that Moshe had passed on to Yehoshua. And ever since, that light has continued to be passed down to the spiritual leaders of each generation. That was the light they saw on the Previous Rebbe’s face. 

As the Rebbe writes in Reshimos, quoting the Rebbe Maharash: “A neshama of Atzilus, a Neshama Klalis—a lofty soul that carries the smile.” (Reshimos Hayoman page 319; see also Likutei Dibburim vol. 1, page 44a.)

(This speech is based on Toldos Chabad B’Artzos HaBrit and other sources.)