By a bochur

Chof Zayin Adar is one of those days in the Lubavitch calendar that carries a heavy emotional weight. It marks the day in 5752 when the Rebbe suffered the stroke that changed our reality, followed later by the stroke in 5754. For many Chassidim, it is remembered as a painful turning point — the last time we saw the Rebbe as we once did.

But perhaps there is an uncomfortable question that is worth asking. When we speak about Chof Zayin Adar with such longing, what exactly are we longing for? Are we longing for the future that the Rebbe spent decades preparing us for — or are we longing to go back to the past?

If we are honest with ourselves, the goal of a chossid was never to return to the way things were in 5751 or 5752. The goal was always one thing: that Moshiach should come.

In other words, the ideal reality is not for things to simply return to the way they once looked. The ideal reality is the one the Rebbe spoke about constantly — a world of Geulah. That means the direction of our longing should be forward, not backward.

Another thing worth noticing is how easily we sometimes arrive at days like this with our feelings already prepared. Over time, certain days on the calendar come with a built-in emotional script — we already know what tone we are supposed to speak in, what kind of posts will appear, and what the general mood will be.

And while those feelings are real and understandable, it is still worth asking whether we are allowing the day to simply impose a certain perspective on us, or whether we are actively choosing where to place our focus.

Of course, for those who lived through those years and remember them vividly, the feeling of wanting to go back is very understandable. When someone experienced something so powerful and alive, it is natural to miss it deeply.

But for the generation that came afterward — those who were born later or who never experienced those moments — it raises a different question. Is it really healthy for an entire generation to build its emotional world around longing for a past it never lived? To inherit a nostalgia that isn’t actually its own?

Sometimes it almost feels as if younger Chassidim are being trained to mourn an era they never experienced, instead of being taught to live toward the future that the Rebbe said we are standing on the threshold of.

The Rebbe spoke constantly about how privileged we are to live in Dor HaShvi’i — the generation that completes the work and brings the Shechinah fully into this world.

In fact, when people once expressed to the Rebbe that they wished they could have lived in earlier generations — for example in the days of the Alter Rebbe — the Rebbe was very clear in his response. On the contrary, he explained, it is our zechus to live in the time we live now. Every generation has its mission, and the generation we are placed in is the one we are meant to complete.

Perhaps the same idea applies here as well. Yes, earlier years carried the powerful experience of seeing the Rebbe openly and living in that revealed reality. But that does not mean our time is a lesser one. If anything, it may be our particular zechus to live in the stage of the story where the mission is being completed.

So perhaps Chof Zayin Adar can also be seen from another angle. Yes, it is a painful day. Yes, it marks the beginning of a reality that is difficult to understand. But if everything in history is part of the process leading to Geulah, then this too is part of that unfolding.

Which means the story of this day is not ultimately about loss. It is about transition.

This doesn’t mean that the feelings of longing are wrong. A chossid naturally longs for the Rebbe, and that feeling is real for every generation.

But even while we feel that longing, the direction of that longing should still be forward. The goal was never to recreate the past, but to reach the future the Rebbe was preparing us for — the fulfillment of Dirah B’Tachtonim and the coming of Moshiach.

The question, then, is where we choose to place our emotional focus.

We can keep directing our energy toward the past — wishing things could look the way they once did.

Or we can take the Rebbe’s message seriously and direct our longing toward the future — toward the reality the Rebbe was preparing the world for all along.

Because the truth is that the goal was never to go back.

The goal was always to go forward.

And if that’s the case, then perhaps the greatest expression of a day like this is not to live in nostalgia for the past — but to live with absolute certainty about the future.