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One might think that the unambiguous determinism of the Rebbe’s worldview would pacify his followers, granting them the confidence and faith required to wait patiently and quietly for the approaching salvation. Such a view, however, reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of the messianic mindset. As Max Weber noted, it is frequently the deterministic beliefs that give rise to the most vigorous forms of activism—and all the more so in the case of messianic movements.34 Chabad is no exception. Indeed, the scope of its activities in the second half of the twentieth century is without precedent in Jewish history. Even some of the movement’s harshest critics, such as David Berger, have been forced to admit as much:
With the possible exception of Bar Kochba, about whom we know very little, Judaism has never had a serious messianic candidate with the curriculum vitae of the Rebbe of blessed memory. Virtually all the accolades heaped upon him by the messianists are true: He established a worldwide empire of followers, spread Orthodox Judaism to places where it had never been known, energized Jewish education, led substantial numbers of irreligious Jews to observance, and much more.35
The Lubavitchers see these impressive achievements as clear, tangible signs that their Rebbe was indeed the messiah. In fact, Chabad’s ambitious endeavors may have been designed expressly to convey this idea.36 The history of religion is replete with individuals who sought to authenticate their messianic status by fulfilling the particular expectations of their religious traditions. Jesus, for example, ordered his disciples to provide him with a donkey on which he could ride into Jerusalem, in fulfillment of the biblical prophecy: “All this was done,” explains Matthew in his Gospel, “that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophet [Zechariah], saying: ‘Tell ye the daughter of Zion, Behold, thy King cometh unto thee, meek, and sitting upon an ass, and a colt the foal of an ass.’”37 In a similar vein, Shlomo Molcho, a sixteenth-century kabbalist who believed he was destined to be the messiah, sat for a month at the gates of Rome in the company of lepers and other outcasts, since the Midrash maintains that such will be the act of the future redeemer.38
Indeed, one searching for a blueprint for the recognition of the Jewish messiah will have no trouble finding it: It is outlined in Maimonides’s majestic work Mishneh Torah (“The Second Law”), considered the most authoritative source on Jewish messianism.39 Near the end of the section dealing with the laws of kings, he writes:
If there arise a king from the house of David who meditates on the Torah, occupies himself with the commandments, as did his ancestor David, observes the precepts prescribed in the written and the oral law, prevails upon Israel to walk in the way of the Torah and repair its breaches, and fights the wars of the Lord, it may be assumed that he is the messiah. If he does these things and succeeds, rebuilds the sanctuary on its site, and gathers the dispersed of Israel, he is beyond all doubt the messiah. [He will prepare the whole world to serve the Lord with one accord, as it is written: “For then will I turn to the peoples in a pure language, that they may all call upon the name of the Lord to serve him with one consent” (Zephaniah 3:9).]40
This text is of the utmost importance to Chabad. Maimonides’s stipulations are mentioned numerous times by the Rebbe in his speeches as well as in various Chabad publications issued both before and after his death.41 It seems fair to conclude that the Rebbe made a conscious effort to conduct himself and his movement in accordance with the “instructions” given in the Mishneh Torah, believing that doing so would both fulfill his messianic destiny and validate it in the eyes of his own community and the entire world.
The first Maimonidean requirement, that the messiah be a “king from the house of David,” posed no problems for Chabad: The Rebbe was indeed believed to be a descendant of King David through Judah Loew ben Bezalel, a famous sixteenth-century rabbi (better known as “the Maharal of Prague”),42 and his followers clearly saw him as the leader of the Jewish people in his generation—making him, in their eyes, a “king.”43 They further believed that the Rebbe was superior to the leaders of all other hasidic sects, since Chabad is the true heir to the Baal Shem Tov’s tradition, and thus the “ideal,” or authentic, form of Judaism.44 This elevated self-image was evident, for instance, in the Rebbe’s condescending attitude toward other prominent Jewish figures: He refused to visit any of them, irrespective of their stature; those who wished to meet with him were required to make a pilgrimage to his famous residence, 770 Eastern Parkway in Crown Heights, Brooklyn.45
Maimonides further held that the messiah “prevails upon Israel to walk in the way of the Torah and repair its breaches.” This passage appears to have inspired one of Chabad’s most ambitious projects: its global missionary campaign. The Rebbe, believing himself to be the shepherd of the Jewish people and thus responsible for guiding it in the “way of the Torah,” sent his followers across the globe equipped with kosher meals, tefillin, copies of Tanya (“It Was Taught”; the central text of Chabad Hasidism), and boundless enthusiasm. They were tasked with reaching out to every Jew they encountered and spreading Chabad’s message to the masses. The hasidim were expected to demonstrate profound devotion to the Rebbe, to the point of self-negation. This obeisance, it was believed, turned them into vessels filled with their leader’s essence, thus enabling the Rebbe to spread himself over the entire world.
