Emissary of the Rebbe to Paris since 1968,  Rabbi Shmuel Azimov is credited by many of France’s Jews for the sweeping changes that have turned Paris and its surrounding areas—once a Jewish wasteland—into a vibrant hub of Jewish life. Over the years, they have flocked to him, seeking his mentorship, guidance, and friendship. With his deep-rooted Chabad Chasidic world-view and a profoundly compassionate concern for others, “Moule” (short for Shmuel), a household name in France’s Jewish circles, has negotiated every aspect of Jewish communal life, working cooperatively and effectively with all of the city’s Jewish organizations and municipal authorities. Together with his wife, the late Bassie Azimov, he opened Paris’s first Chabad House in 1972. Under his leadership, Chabad centers have since opened in every district of Paris and its suburbs, most recently in the Champs Élysées. 

Anti-semitism is on the rise in France. Recent attacks in Toulouse in which four Jews were murdered, and the violent attack in June on yeshiva students in Lyon are deeply worrisome. France’s Jews are calling on the government to take more aggressive measures to put an end to the violence against Jews. Rabbi Azimov is hopeful, he says, that authorities will work swiftly and effectively so that its Jewish citizens do not need to live in fear. 

France is home to one of the largest Jewish populations in the Diaspora, and Jewish life in Paris, where some 375,000 Jews reside, is thriving. With forty Chabad centers and some 170 Shluchim in Paris, a day school bursting at the seams with 2,000 students, and an annual budget of roughly $25 million, Rabbi Azimov has built and continues to grow a remarkably successful Jewish infrastructure.

We chose to interview Rabbi Azimov for this issue of Lubavitch International, and gain some insight into this man who thousands call their teacher. 

Baila Olidort

Paris 2012

Rabbi Shmuel Azimov shuffles slowly into the dining room of his Paris apartment where I wait to meet him. The sixty-six year old rabbi suffered a stroke thirteen years ago, leaving his speech and movement impaired, but he has graciously agreed to talk with me. 

A warm, lively vibe fills the high-ceilinged ample rooms that are cheerfully cluttered with family photos. The apartment appears well-lived-in. Children and grandchildren come and go. During our meeting, Rabbi Azimov’s son and several of his granddaughters poke their heads in to ask him a question. A young man comes in asking for help. Rabbi Azimov is non-discriminating in his affable attentiveness and concern. 

We talk for several hours, the conversation punctuated by his gentle humor and soft laughter. I remind myself that this is a man still in mourning. His wife and partner in life, Bassie Azimov, passed away quite suddenly six months ago. The two had been married for forty-five years; together, they raised a family and a phenomenon. 

Today, the Azimovs are credited by many of France’s Jews for the radical transformation that has made the city of lights a lively Jewish metropolis. I’ve come prepared to hear Rabbi Azimov discuss his early struggles, the great aspirations, the vision and the strategy that he and his wife nursed as they set out on their lifelong mission as Chabad Shluchim to Paris. 

But the dyed-in-the-wool Lubavitcher Chasid is altogether understated about his prodigious success. I press on. Surely he and his wife devised a plan, nurtured a dream, conceived a schema that would help explain his considerable following and the dramatic success of his shlichut. 

Not really. He and his wife, he tells me plainly, were just teachers.  

They taught one child, one teenager, one adult at a time. They taught groups, they taught college students, they started a school. Between the two, hundreds, and eventually thousands of Jews would study Torah. The Azimovs filled their days and their evenings teaching. “Moule” made his rounds at all major and local universities in Paris, seeking out Jewish students who welcomed the chance to join a Torah study class. His wife reached out to local families, teaching the women, their daughters, and college girls, so they would want to marry Jewish, and live as Jews. Nothing more elaborate, nothing more grandiose or glamorous than finding Jewish people who would accept the invitation to study Torah.  

Slowly but surely their students took an interest not only in studying, but in living Jewishly. And then they became Chabad Shluchim. In the 1960s, with the influx of Jews from Algiers, Tunis and Morocco, France’s Jewish population grew rapidly. Jewish communities blossomed.  Success begat success. Today, Beit Chaya Mouchka, the Chabad Jewish school in Paris founded by Mrs. Azimov and her husband—a $22 million complex when it was built 20 years ago—counts two thousand students from preschool through high school.