An Open Letter to Rebbe Nachman

To my revered Rebbe Nachman,
 
I am writing this letter to you since I have never been to your holy gravesite, and, as each year passes, my yearning becomes greater and my curiosity insatiable. I long to sit by your side and feel your holy soul, and, perhaps, even sense your presence. I write this letter in anticipation of that joyous day, in case I do not have the strength to speak.
 
I hear about the unexpected tears streaming down the faces of your thousands of visitors, and wonder if I, too, will experience the same outpouring of emotion. I imagine that when I will first approach your burial place, I will have a sense of coming home, of my soul being complete, of inner peace. Trembling, I visualise myself preparing to read “Tikkun Klali”, and then, barely able to bear the thought, reciting the first few words; “Michtam LeDavid, Shamreini Kel, Ki Chasiti Vach…” beyond these thoughts I daren’t wander, I sense an intensity I am not yet worthy of .
 
And then there is the fear; the fear that I may feel nothing, nothing at all. And so, I am happy to yearn from a distance, safe in my imagination of how it will be, and that is how it remains, for now….
 
Rebbe Nachman ben Simcha ben Feige, I feel as if you must know who I am, because when I read your books you are talking directly to me. Did we meet somewhere, once? Was I ever in Breslev? How is it that you seem to understand me so innately, how can it be that whatever I need to hear, I read in your holy writings, at the right time? How is it that 200 years ago you said things that are as relevant as if they were said 10 minutes ago? How is it that your insights on the weekly Torah portion mirror my life so exactly? I will never understand any of this, nor do I seek to, only I am glad for it, and thank Hashem.
 
Doctor of the Soul, you have saved me many times. From soaring highs, to searing lows, your eternal words breath renewed life into my happy, many times hardened heart. I often sense that you, too, must have been such a person, that you could write so honestly and truthfully about the complex nature of sadness and her evil twin, depression. Your insights and advice shed light into a darkness that seemingly has no dawn, your life story is a beacon of spirituality for a near-dead society. Who else urges us to seek our good points, and to judge ourselves favourably, even though we are seemingly undeserving? Somehow, I manage to salvage what can be rescued from a spiritual wreck and rebuild myself after each fall, on the strength of the good that you insist is inside me.
 
Your appeal for simplicity and innocence in faith is a lethal weapon against the cunning sophistication of modern philosophy and my own imagination. Your timeless advice for service of Hashem –“Only Today”–is the spiritual antidote for the physical world which constantly whispers in my ear, “Just This Once…”. When I take your words to heart, and only think of the moment at hand, I attain a sense of peace and am able to make the right choice. I don’t always succeed, but you have already anticipated that and have left me with another maxim with which to survive my many falls: “Begin Again”.
 
And, my dear Rebbe, I am eternally grateful to you for introducing me to my Heavenly Father. For without your advice on personal prayer, I would never have connected to him. And without a connection to Hashem, everything is worth nothing. Once I followed your advice, and opened my eyes heavenward, I truly saw how I was blinded by this world. And even though, despite all your efforts, I still get sidetracked and lured off the path, you have given me the gift of a quiet voice of awareness that reminds me where I need to be, no matter how hard it is to be there.
 
To the True Tzaddik, although I don’t really understand what this means, I know that by attaching myself to you I am aligning myself with a spiritual force I can’t possibly fathom. By following your advice, I somehow have earned your Heavenly protection, something that I have come to understand that I desperately need. By talking to Hashem, I thankfully uncovered my deep sense of shame, and through this I realized that your advice is true, and therefore, so must be your promise of Heavenly protection.
 
And so, Dear Rebbe, as long as I don’t get to Uman, I have not yet earned my place by your side in the Heavenly court. Please Rebbe, invite me soon, and help me to pray by your side so that I may have the exquisite privilege of meeting you in person one day, after my 120 years, Amen.
 
Yours Faithfully,
 
Yehudit Levy