I know many of you are aware of the recent rumors of tzadikim meeting violent ends. Remember, the Righteous Men are nistarim, “hidden.” No one, not even the individuals themselves, knows whom God has chosen. I don’t know. We cannot know. What we sense is that wickedness is loose in the world on a scale, perhaps, that we have never seen.

The congregation has become totally silent, held spellbound by the Rebbe’s words.

REBBE

How does the Almighty communicate with His children, the human race? He does not call us together into a great hall and address us from a high platform. Rather, He chooses a solitary individual, often obscure, and employs this soul as a stand-in for all of humanity. Job whom He afflicted, Jacob who wrestled with an angel. Not to mention Noah, Abraham, Moses. The Almighty tests these individuals. He sets them trials.

Something makes me glance toward Manning. To my astonishment, his eyes are welling.

REBBE

How this solitary individual responds affects the entire nation of Israel—in metaphorical terms, all of humanity. The instrument God uses to test this man is HaSatan, the Adversary. HaSatan’s role is to force him to choose. To embrace the Almighty or to reject Him.

Forty-five minutes in, the Rebbe breaks off his discourse. “Intermission,” says Jake Instancer.

The Rebbe retires up a rear stairway, accompanied by three women, apparently his wife and daughters, to his living quarters, where he will rest for a few minutes, perhaps have a cup of tea and a bite to eat. Several of the broad-shouldered Shomrim men follow. The Rebbe will be back to finish his talk, Instancer tells Manning, in about a quarter of an hour.

“You guys want something to eat or drink? Use the bathroom?”

The professor excuses himself and moves off. He’ll meet us, he says, back here in fifteen minutes.

Tea and wine, pastries, and little cheese pies are being served in a partitioned section, the women’s, apparently, off to the side of the auditorium. I’ve been in this place for less than ninety minutes, yet already I feel like I’ve lived here my entire life. The Chasidic garb that had appeared so alien when we first entered now seems completely normal. I half expect to look down and see myself dressed like an Orthodox woman.

A glance from Manning snaps me out of this. His expression says, Go circulate.

I watch Manning move off to do the same. He crosses to a table serving tea and cakes. Within thirty seconds he has attracted a trio of Orthodox matrons. He won’t interrogate them overtly, I know. He’ll charm them. I can see him working already.

My style is different. As a young female and clearly a guest, I can be more direct, particularly with my peers. My notes from the next ten minutes:

To Shomrim Bodyguard #1: “Does the name Nathan Davis mean anything to you? Michael Justman?”