The Heartbeat of the Jewish People: Chabad

One thing I’ve learned as a Jew is that, wherever you go, Chabad is already there.

My whole life, I’ve been able to travel knowing I could count on finding a Chabad house nearby. Not just for the kosher food or a place to light candles, though those things mattered too, but more so, the feeling of being welcomed without need for explanation. No questions, no expectations, just, “We’re so glad you’re here.”

Every Chol Hamoed Sukkot, my synagogue would take us to an amusement park. Without fail, my friends and I would place bets, not on if, but when we’d spot the Chabad table. Sure enough, there they’d be, smiling and holding out a lulav and etrog, asking if we’d had a chance to do the mitzvah yet. It was always a running joke between us, but looking back, the fact that we could laugh about it was a gift. We were lucky to grow up in a world where seeing Chabad out in the wild was so normal, so expected, that it became part of the experience.

Over time, I’ve realized that it was never “just making sure you heard the shofar” or “just making sure you have candles for Shabbat.” I’ve come to hear what they are really saying, which is “just making sure you belong.” Chabad doesn’t make a big deal of what they do, but that quiet consistency, that refusal to let anyone feel alone, means everything. 

To me, that’s the heart of Judaism.

I consider myself Modern Orthodox, but I resonate and respect the Chabad movement deeply. Despite the importance of the actual sect and traditions they carry, their ideology is crucial to what it means to be a part of the Jewish people. I’ve always valued Chabad and their emphasis on unity, but that appreciation took on new meaning when I arrived at secular college. I wasn’t just looking for a kosher meal or a place to spend Shabbat, I was looking for a sense of belonging.

That’s when I found the Chabad at Binghamton. From the moment I walked in, I was met with warmth from a team of incredible shluchim, couples who have dedicated their lives to making every Jewish student feel seen and cared for. 

That’s also when I met Rabbi Aaron and Rivky Slonim. Every week, Rivky welcomed a group of friends and me for learning, warm challah, homemade soup, and conversations that always veered off course in the best way. In those moments, I realized that this is Judaism.

Chabad has always been about that. Founded in the 18th century by Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi and later ignited by the vision of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, what started as a movement turned into a lifeline. A global force of kindness.

The Rebbe once said, “A little bit of light can dispel a lot of darkness.” That quote was spoken into a mission. It’s why there are over 3,500 Chabad centers in more than 100 countries. It’s why, no matter where you are, you’ll find someone offering a Shabbat meal, a place to stay, or a simple “You belong.”

In a world that often feels broken and dim, especially now, Chabad teaches us that the way forward is simple: bring light. Be family. They don’t ask you where you’ve been; They ask you how you’ve been. And in doing so, they capture the truest essence of Judaism: that every Jew is a spark, and together, we are a fire that can light up the world, but only together.