Even for the worldly Langer, though, it all comes back to God, who is everywhere. The need to connect with God is tantamount. As a doctrinaire Lubavitcher, the connection can only be made through the unbroken lineage of chosen Lubavitch rebbes who have come before. That explains Schneerson's power and that of his six predecessors over the centuries. For a Lubavitcher, defying the rebbe, or taking an independent path, as Pil is considered to have done by some of his elders in the sect, is the same as leaving the sect altogether.
"The rebbe has been the inspirational point of Hasidism, a tangible human being who is practicing what he's preaching," said Langer. "If you're your own bottom line, you're out there."
Langer and Pil have known each other since Pil first came here, three years after Langer established his chabad in S.F. Now, Langer would just as soon not discuss Pil. His smile fades, his gray-streaked red beard seems to sag. Suffice it to say that they once celebrated the Sabbath side by side in shul. Now Pil no longer comes, and they don't really talk much.
Pil has chosen a grand backdrop against which to operate. "This is a very historic resettlement of major proportions," said Jewish Community Federation executive Richard Sipser in a recent interview in his offices in SOMA. As director of planning, allocations, and agency relations, he parcels out the JCF's yearly collections, which amounted to more than $19 million in California last year.
"Desert" or no, the Bay Area Jewish community is an acknowledged leader in the global drive to rescue Jews from the Soviet Union. At the same time, it is unique among urban U.S. Jewish populations for its high degree of assimilation, intermarriage with non-Jews (over 60 percent), and low profile. The strongly secular flavor of Bay Area Jewry may explain why Pil, with his heavy emphasis on the Orthodox religious practice of the Hasidim, holds it in such disdain.
Nevertheless, without any help from Pil's donated cars, Bay Area Jewish groups have raised tens of millions of dollars, which have been matched by a very small proportion of federal funds, to create a nationally respected resettlement network over the past two decades. It operates under close federal scrutiny. Money is strictly accounted for, and extended follow-ups with the newly arrived emigres are required to be documented. As a result, it is astonishingly effective. About 85 percent of the emigre families who pass through the system are self-sufficient after two years.
The sheer volume of 2,000 arrivals a year, of course, poses a constant challenge -- though to Pil, it's an opportunity.
If his organization doesn't collapse under its own weight, he is poised for even more significant growth. His dream of a full-fledged Hebrew day school is on its way to being realized with the down payment on the building at Balboa and 34th Avenue. So is his Russian-language synagogue, the second concrete manifestation of Pil's spiritual empire. Whether he expands his presence beyond these remains to be seen.
At the same time, the DA's Office is determining whether any actions that caused the warehouse fire really were violations of Pil's lease. And federal and state charities regulators, now that he's such a public figure, have Pil fully in their sights.
All of which means that Pil's story, too, remains unfinished.
