The word “Breslov” carries so many different connotations that it’s hard to formulate an authoritative definition.Mishpacha speaks to two of America’s leading experts on the Breslover derech for insight, clarity, and candid demystifying of a very misunderstood movement
I turn left through the quiet, immaculate streets of Woodmere, passing manicured lawns in front of impressive homes. As I drive up a small side street, a magnificent building rises in front of me, Aish Kodesh. Fusing the decorum and dignity of a synagogue with the warmth and passion of a shtiebel, the shul has come to symbolize a new reality. From the very epicenter of the American dream, Jews are reaching out for the healing waters of Chassidus; from the heart of Long Island, they are seeking Mezibuzh.
Aish Kodesh has become a phenomenon, a concept that many seek to emulate — a place where 2010 meets 1750.
The word Breslov, said the Chassidus’s founder, Rebbe Nachman, can be rearranged to spell the words “lev bassar,” a heart of flesh. Even today, years after Rebbe Nachman has left the world, the truth of his teachings is clear. The Torah, stories, and ideas of Breslov are melting Jewish hearts in an age of stone. But even as the Chassidus spreads, as the burial place at Uman becomes a destination of choice for tens of thousands of Yidden, Rebbe Nachman’s Chassidus is also shrouded by much confusion and misunderstanding.
What is Breslov? Is it the tzaddikim in Meah Shearim with their joyous faces and broken hearts, or is it the spirited young men dancing obliviously in Geulah, their peyos and shirttails swinging along as they urge people to rejoice to a loud techno beat?
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