The word “Breslov” carries so many different connotations that it’s hard to formulate an authoritative definition. Is Breslov a Chassidus? A philosophy? A group of bearded men handing out leaflets? Mishpacha speaks to two of America’s leading experts on the Breslover derech for insight, clarity, and candid demystifying of a very misunderstood movement

It’s a beautiful spring afternoon on Central Avenue in the Five Towns. Late-model SUVs vie for parking spots in front of upscale boutiques along the avenue. Well-dressed shoppers sip iced lattes (chalav Yisrael) and enjoy sushi (chassidishe hashgachah) in front of elegant eateries.

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.

A Heart of Flesh

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?

Is it the brilliant talmidei chachamim with their drawn faces, who eschew sleep between chatzos and vasikin, or is it the resilient teenagers standing in the pizza shops of Brooklyn and insisting that you accept a pamphlet, any pamphlet, of the Rebbe’s teachings?

What did Rebbe Nachman want, and who are his authentic followers?

It was with these questions that I entered the building, Aish Kodesh, for a candid conversation with two remarkable individuals.

Rabbi Chaim Kramer is the director of the Breslov Research Institute and has devoted his life to translating and disseminating the torah of his Rebbe. A son-in-law of the legendary Breslover chassid, Rav Zvi Aryeh Rosenfeld, Reb Chaim merited exposure to the Breslover tzaddikim of the last generation: Rav Shmuel Shapiro, Rav Levi Yitzchok Bender, Rav Eliyahu Chaim Rosen — the one responsible for building the beis medrash in Meah Shearim — and the other members of that holy chaburah.

Rabbi Moshe Weinberger, the rav of Aish Kodesh, is one of this generation’s leading teachers of Chassidus, an inspired and inspiring individual who has managed to fill with brilliant colors a world that was formerly black and white. Though he isn’t “officially” a Breslover, he is close to the Chassidus and frequently quotes the words of Rebbe Nachman in his talks.

Rabbis Kramer and Weinberger are also close friends, and together, they welcome me.

Misconceptions and Detractors

I have prepared the question in my mind, but am hesitant to express it as such. Yet Rabbi Kramer has an air of easy expectancy about him, and he laughs aloud at my discomfort. “Nu, ask already,” he instructs me. “I’ve heard it all.”

“Okay,” I dive in, headfirst. “There is a certain conception among people that Breslov isn’t really a ‘normal’ Chassidus, that it’s just a bunch of crazies dancing in the streets and asking for money.”

I am referring to a phenomenon that began to spread about twenty years ago, when a note purportedly written by Rebbe Nachman himself was discovered. It was signed Na-Nach-Nachma-Nachman M’Uman, and the words became a mantra for a new faction, widely known as Na-Nachs. They, too, are identified with Breslov, but the Na-Nachs — easily the most visible group associated with Rebbe Nachman — have, in a sense, hijacked the reputation of traditional Breslov. Hence, my comment.

Reb Chaim thinks for a moment. “I will share something personal with you. I was at the Kosel one night, at about two thirty, and it was quiet and peaceful, a perfect time for contemplation. Then, a group of Na-Nachs exploded on the scene with music and noise and it was a little irritating. I had the most humiliating thought.”

The emotion is evident in his face. “The word ‘nefesh’ [soul] is connected to the Hebrew word ‘shem,’ a person’s name, which expresses the root of his soul. Thus, mesirus nefesh essentially means ‘mesiras shem,’ giving over one’s name for a greater good. So I thought to myself, look how great my Rebbe is. He is willing to give over his name and that of the Chassidus to these people in the hope that through being connected, they might grow, they might change. That’s the mesirus nefesh of Rebbe Nachman, and if he is okay with it, who am I to be irritated? He is willing to allow his name to be mocked, so how can I argue?”