Initially, the committee wanted to fly one of the architects to New York in order to recreate the blueprints, but the Rebbe insisted that we keep costs down, and so we had a committee member who was planning to travel to 770 for the High Holidays take measurements of the building. Although he had no formal training, it was enough to draft preliminary blueprints and then, with the help of a structural engineer, submit the plans for approval. We then managed to get a contractor to commit to complete the framework for only $83,000, in honor of the Rebbe’s 83 years and in time for his next birthday, on the 11th of Nissan, 1986. All of this was the easy part. We still didn’t have detailed architectural plans!
I decided to take a personal trip to 770; not at the project’s expense, but as a chasid visiting his Rebbe. While there, I meticulously measured the entire building and took over 500 photos of its unique features — the ornaments, moldings, chimneys, and the numerous stained-glass windows. Finally, we were finally able to move forward with the planning.
The framework was ready on time, but then construction slowed. Eventually, the Rebbe addressed the delay in construction at the Lag B’Omer farbrengen: “Like idle people—they started building, and got stuck halfway...” To speed things up, he promised to send additional funds, urging that the building be completed in time for the 12th of Tammuz.
This farbrengen was broadcast live to Israel and right after it ended, at 4:00 AM Israel time, I got a call summoning me to an emergency committee meeting in Kfar Chabad. The committee had calculated that they only had 33 working days left. In my professional assessment, completing the remaining work in such a short time was nearly impossible, but the Rebbe wanted it, and so we started running at an abnormal pace.
Each week, I left home after Shabbat and returned before candle lighting the next Friday. We located the one factory in Israel that could produce 770’s signature red bricks, and they agreed to halt all other production to focus on our project. We had four bricklaying crews working simultaneously, local Arab artisans making chimney caps and window frames, and a variety of craftsmen producing casting molds. There were approximately 150 workers on site, some of them working as late as two or three in the morning. We had no choice but to abandon conventional building order — plastering one area while laying tiles in another, before the walls had even been finished.
Finding a company that could create roughly 100 meters of stained-glass windows was another struggle. Eventually, one leading company agreed to focus solely on our project for four months.
“Four months?” we laughed. “We need them in one!” They were going to walk out, but we insisted. “If the Rebbe said it, it will happen!”
Our enthusiasm must have been contagious, because they agreed. “We don’t know how, but we’ll do it!” They asked for the exact window measurements, but the walls weren’t even up yet. Normally, making the calculations for stained glass backwards would guarantee errors — but miraculously, they completed all the work on time, without a millimeter’s mistake. I don’t know how they did it.
That year, the 12th of Tammuz fell on Shabbat, and the Rebbe requested that the building’s dedication ceremony be held on the 15th — exactly one year after he had first spoken about the project.
Since then, the magnificent building has stood proudly on that hill, clearly visible to everyone traveling past on Israel’s Highway 1. Its four stories house a large study hall and library, as well as the Kehot publishing house and the editorial offices of the “Kfar Chabad” magazine.
On the day of the dedication, the Rebbe spoke about the new building, and about the “soul of this house — the Torah and the guidance that will emanate from Kfar Chabad’s 770, as it emanates from the 770 here.”
Meanwhile, I was too exhausted to sit through the dedication. An IDF general who spoke at an adjacent event held that same day — Chabad’s annual Bar Mitzvah celebration for the orphans of fallen soldiers — quipped: “We’ve had many successful operations — but I don’t know if we could do what they did!” I felt the greatest sense of privilege; all those challenges, and all my architectural studies, were worth it just to reach that moment.
Mordechai Gorelik is an engineer and architect who resides in Nachalat Har Chabad, Israel. He was interviewed in his home in December of 2013.
