The Last Crusade
Spiritual Barometry in Downtown Manhattan
By Daniel Berman
The May rain pours down in droves as the two dark-suited men shuffle east past the stock exchange on Wall Street. It appears to freeze mid-fall against the bursts of camera flashes, and drops quietly thereafter.
Rabbi Mendel Scharfstein is twenty-two, and the innocence of youth glows fresh in his bespectacled eyes. He paces at 5’ foot 6” towards water street, nearly drenched in his oversized black suit and top-hat. His peyos wind down from the edges of his side- burns to his jaw-line, where the brown curls seem to burrow into the fluff of his patchy yet mature beard. At Mendel’s side, Yosef Grossman paces in similar apparel. He is the same age as his companion although not yet an ordained Rabbi. His accent rolls out with sharp eastern-European inflection – when he pauses smiling to speak, that is.
Yossi, as his friends and family call him, has every reason in the world to be joyous, he insists, although he too, is sopping wet. Standing as big as an ox in his trench- coat and top-hat, he could be mistaken for a Jewish wrestler if it weren’t for his kind nature.
Through his bright, maroon beard he booms, “There are miracles occurring every day.” He passes under the dry refuge offered by the entrance of 60 Wall street, where several financiers indulge in a smoke-break. “Although we can’t necessarily comprehend their inner workings,’ he muses, ‘we can bring ourselves closer to a spiritual understanding by continuing to better ourselves as human beings. Take the incident with the plane landing in the Hudson river, for example – not a single injury.” Yossi’s smile re-emerges even brighter. “ If you look deeper into it...these things just don’t happen.” He turns the corner after a brief farewell, disappearing past a menagerie of town-cars.
***
It is Friday, which holds great significance to Yossi and Mendel. Not only isFriday the Jewish Sabbath and day of rest(after sundown), it’s also the day both gentlemen set off on a winding hike through scores of wall street offices, offering their guiding support and sage wisdom. The purpose of their emissary work is to allow less pious Jews to engage in spiritual mitzvoth* to bring them closer to their neshama, or godly spirits, Mendel explains.
Chabad Lubavitch, to which Mendel’s family has dedicated its life, is the Hasidic movement following the teachings of the late “Rebbe”(grand Rabbi) Rabbi Menachem Schneerson. He is often touted as the Jewish messiah among the Lubavitch, although this theology is only practiced within the orthodox denomination. Mendelspeaks of the Rebbe very often, and very highly.
He pulls out what looks like a business card, but it is actually a miniature flyer which lists the Seven Noahide laws received by Moses from G-d in the Old Testament. “MOSHIACH[messiah] IS HERE,” reads the small card in bold, and in fine print beneath, an inscription reads “Just add in goodness and kindness.” The image of Rabbi Schneerson sits just below the text, revealing clasped hands and a beard that would make Hemingway jealous.
Through his beneficent actions and outreach, Mendel hopes to fulfill the messianic prophecy of the late Rebbe. The Lubavitch movement is named after the Jewish town of its inception in Russia, but it now runs as a global operation. “We are a world-wide organization with over a million members,” Mendel explains, ‘but each chabad house is run completely by its own community.” According to the group’s website chabad.org, today there are over 4000 full-time emissary families in more than 3,300 institutions world-wide. And though this is already a large number, Mendel hopes to run his own chabad in the future when he is a married man, he expresses to me with an ebullient smile.
***
Mendel enters the elevator of 45 Wall Street, stepping out just moments later onto the eleventh floor, whose assemblage of young brokers rings like a school during recess. Mendel leans over the reception desk, and shyly announces himself to the attractive blonde secretary. An older couple sitting nearby gawks momentarily until they make accidental eye contact, and later disappear into a room nearby.
Today Mendel will be visiting with Cyrus Eyn, a local real estate broker who often hosts Jewish holiday parties in his apartment. Although Mendel usually arrives with plastic shot glasses and a half-full bottle of vodka, he nurses his drinks slowly, apparently more interested in the prospect of conversing with new acquaintances. “There’s food and drink, and lot of fun,’ he expresses enthusiastically, rocking slightly in the black armchair, ‘but most important- there’s great company.”
Travel seems to be Mendel’s guilty pleasure. It is also vital to the success of his Chabad house and charity work. He recounts with a grin his recent trip to Rakishok, Lithuania, where he hosted a Passover service for a small community synagogue notorious for forgetting their prayers. Slightly blushing, he intimates, “I accidentally found myself a little drunk-we had to repeat several blessings over again, but we got it right…eventually.” He grins as a fuzzy red glow comes over bearded face.
Clutched in the crook of Mendel’s elbow is a waterproof plastic pouch, brimming with nearly one hundred copies of L’chaim weekly magazine, a small Orthodox publication he distributes. A picture of the Rebbe’s smiling face peers out from beneath its water-spackled surface.
Mendel often comes bearing gifts for his friends. Jewish staples such as dreidels, menorahs, and even matzoh are offered no cost, which owes to the charity of Lubavitch, as well as to their budget. These offerings, including prayer flyers and Jewish weekly newspapers, are an attempt to raise awareness for the Orthodox cause. Mendel’s outreach is crucial in supporting his chabad house in Crown Heights, which he shares with his parents and younger sister. This requires a lot of footwork, he concedes.
On the state of spirituality in downtown Manhattan, Mendel offers a positive outlook: “I can’t tell you how holy it is exactly- I don’t have a meter for that, but I have witnessed many great mitzvoth(blessings) and met some truly wonderful people here. Unfortunately, with everyone’s hectic schedule, I’m often unable to meet with friends on a weekly basis.” He seems slightly disappointed.
Most working people downtown, especially of the younger generation, just don’t have the time to sit for twenty minutes during the work- week, he believes. And to his chagrin, others simply want to practice religion on their own terms and time. This seems to be the most prevalent hindrance to Mendel’s success, he admits.
“There’s a lot of young people down here I’d love to meet,’ he explains in the waiting area. ‘Whether it’s simply for a prayer or some conversation, Lubavitch is about connecting Jews. We must stay together as a world-wide community, for spiritual strength and solidarity.”
Downtown resident Brett Shorenstein, a member of the Wall Street Synagogue at 47 Beekman street, is not personally familiar with Mendel, but has a different perspective on mixing religion and work. “I was once introduced to a Rabbi of Lubavitch through a mutual friend, and he still calls me every Friday, even though I thought I made it obvious I wasn’t in need of any ordainment,’ he explains sarcastically.
Mr. Shorenstein, who works on Wall Street in private equity, continues. “I personally believe that people should be free to practice religion where and how they want, but a lot of times you can make others uncomfortable at the workplace proselytzing, especially in sales-related businesses where one deals with clients.” Belonging to a congregation gives him a broader reach into the community through his socializations, he admits, although he does not pause for prayer at work.
***
Cyrus arrives in a gray three- piece suit, smiling warmly. He has known Mendel for four years and embraces him in brotherly fashion.
In the empty dining room, Mendel takes out a small black cube attached to leather straps, which he places at the forefront of Cyrus’ closely- shaved head. The ceremony, named Tefillin, involves wrapping the head and arm and reciting a special prayer, and is considered a high mitzvah(blessing) in Judaism.
“Hareni mekabel..” Cyrus begins reading the Hebrew text. His sharp blue eyes scan the words with familiarity. He continues reciting the ancient dialect for nearly a minute until he reaches the conclusion, and Mendel joins in. “We want Moshiach now,” they both echo.
“In these times, if there’s anything we need, it’s a spiritual bailout,” Cyrus half- jokes, standing up from a chair beside Mendel. The two shake hands warmly, and Cyrus returns back to his work, likely stepping out the door to meet with a prospective client.
Mendel cruises slowly toward the exit, depositing several publications on the top ledge of the reception desk. He smiles at the attractive receptionist timidly as he makes his way to the elevators.
As a youth, it wasn’t often Mendel would walk the streets of Manhattan. His time was too booked already from the nearly eight-hour school day. But now he is in the city at least once a week. And forget the days of low-tech Judaism – Mendel is equipped with a Blackberry telephone and matching google-mail account.
He stands in the corridor, waiting for the screeching elevator to arrive on the eleventh floor. A text message buzzes on his cellular phone, which he drops into his baggy pocket after a quick one-over. “Just as we all need to attain a closeness to G-d,’ he motions with his hands, ‘we must also embrace technology that nears us to one another” The elevator arrives with a startling ring, and Mendel shuffles in between a Fed-Ex delivery courier and an elderly gentleman. “Call me anytime’ he offers, placing his foot in front of the elevator door, as it moves to close and jerks back.
“But don’t bother during Shabbis*,’ he warns, ‘ or you’re going straight to voicemail.”
Sources:
www.Chabad.org
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