Cookies With the Rebbe

by Lloyd B. Abrams

Because we hadn’t planned anything in advance for Vivien’s 75th birthday, by late morning it was already too late to think about acquiring tickets for a show in the city. TKTS, the discount outlet in Times Square, would’ve been a slog on a cold January afternoon.

The lineup of first-run movies playing in local theaters for “mature adults” – who? us? – was dismal, as usual. The plan for celebrating her birthday thus became shopping and dinner, followed by an evening stroll. But it morphed into something more unexpected.

We left mid-afternoon and I drove to Aron’s Kissena Farms, an oversized kosher supermarket, where we first shopped when our Orthodox daughter and husband moved to Queens. There’s something about the rather less-than-pristine ambiance of the place and the multi-ethnic clientele that Vivien loves. Most important, there’s no need to search for hechshers – the tiny symbols of kashruth, or kosherness – printed on every package.

Aron’s has a huge selection of meat and fish, dairy products and cheeses unavailable elsewhere, fresh and packaged bakery goods, and many other scrumptious products – read “calorie-laden” – that we could purchase with no worries. But since the last time we were there, their display and stock of halvah, a confection that I crave made from sesame paste with nuts or chocolate often mixed in, had been greatly reduced.

It was already dark when we packed the many over-filled bags into our car. We then headed east to the upscale Café Muscat, on Utopia Parkway, which had become our favorite dairy restaurant. Vivien’s impossibly-large Asparagus Oreganatto salad, including cashews, feta cheese, onions, mushrooms and stir-fried asparagus, was piled into a white ceramic bowl, while I enjoyed a sesame-crusted teriyaki salmon fillet, plus sides. Of course, we had to end dinner with a shared slab of cheesecake.

For our evening stroll, we headed down Francis Lewis Boulevard towards the Ohel – a Hebrew word for “tent” or “house” – part of Montefiore Cemetery in Cambria Heights.

The Ohel is the burial site of Menachem Mendel Schneerson, known as the Rebbe, the leader of the Chabad-Lubavitcher movement, who took an insular Hasidic group that almost came to an end with the Holocaust, and transformed it into one of the most influential movements in religious Jewry. The Rebbe is still beloved and revered by adherents from around the world, and many also consider him to be the Messiah.

The main building, and the recently-modified Ohel area outside, is open 24-6, closed only on the sabbath and certain holidays. It’s usually crowded mostly with observant Jews from many backgrounds, but also from all sectors of the Jewish diaspora – as well as non-Jews – who visit the Ohel for prayer, solace, clarity and blessings. Some pilgrims even arrive shlepping suitcases, directly from the airport.

At the Rebbe’s grave, inside a small, crowded open-air brick building, we whispered or mouthed the words that we had needed to. We then ripped up what we’d written beforehand and tossed it into a pit filled with hundreds of similarly-discarded paper shards. After we lit several candles, we returned to the main building, and changed back from borrowed well-worn Crocs – leather wasn’t allowed – into our Merrell and Keen walking shoes.

Only then did we grab several plain cookies, now kept in tiny cellophane bags for health reasons, and sat down with styrofoam cups of tepid tea and coffee. This tiny but poignant ritual had been Vivien’s – and now our way – of honoring the life of the Rebbe, and the freedom of being able to live and believe however we choose.

Thus, our goal of shopping, having dinner, followed by an evening stroll – okay, in a cemetery – was accomplished, and the end result was our uplifted spirits and our heightened sense of connection.

When I just recently asked Vivien if she’d like to repeat this three-stop expedition on her next birthday at the end of this month, she gave me a big smile of appreciation, anticipation … and love.

Rev 15 / January 15, 2025

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January 13, 2025 … Copyright © 2025, Lloyd B. Abrams