You can't beat Chabad, so why not join them? - opinion

I remember the moment of surprise, and possibly envy, as if it were yesterday. Picture this: minus 22° Celsius in Helsinki, Finland, on one of the nights of Hanukkah. I was part of a World Bnei Akiva and World Zionist Organization “Hanukkah Caravan,” a beautiful initiative that has run for years. Zionist emissaries from across Scandinavia would gather, put on a show, hand out dreidels and sufganiyot, and dance with children and elders alike at Jewish community centers and old age homes.

One evening, there was a mix-up. Our event with the local Jewish community was scheduled at the same time as the Chabad event in the city center. The community told us to go to the Chabad event, announce our presence, and bring people over. I volunteered to go, along with one of the female emissaries, a woman in her early 20s who had sewn her own dreidel costume. When we arrived, we nearly fainted.

A massive hanukkiah sculpted out of an iceberg. An ice-skating rink. Hot cocoa and more sufganiyot than you could ever eat, all free. For the menorah lighting, the most well-connected and influential people in Finland had been invited: the mayor of Helsinki, local politicians, and wealthy businesspeople. My colleague took the microphone and, in both English and Hebrew, announced our event. No one really noticed. We walked back through the freezing cold, shaking our heads. How are we supposed to compete with that?

We didn’t speak Finnish. None of in our group did. Some spoke broken Swedish. Sure, we had charm. And, indeed, our event was more in line with the spirit of Israel. We had energy, and we had enthusiasm. But our decorations were made from large sheets of paper. We couldn’t compare with what we’d seen.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the difference between the two events.

Years later, after becoming a journalist covering the Jewish world, I kept encountering the same dynamic: old and historically significant Jewish communities locked in tensions with the local Chabad emissary. This pattern is seen in city after city, and it has remained remarkably consistent.

A young Chabad family arrives with boundless energy, outstanding ideas, and unique branding. And, most importantly, time. They are there to stay. The Lubavitcher Rebbe sent them, and until the Messiah comes, whenever that may be, they aren’t going anywhere.

Jewish Agency emissaries, as talented as they may be, stay in a community for a maximum of four years. A career pulpit rabbi is always eyeing the next opportunity: a larger community, better pay, and better benefits. Meanwhile, that same Chabad rabbi, along with his wife and children, remains rooted in the same place, filling the same role, year after year.

Chabad emissaries also tend to attract the local Israeli community. In most cities, there is a distinction between the Jewish community and Israeli expats; they rarely mix. It’s cultural. It’s cliquish.

In many established Jewish communities, you need to pay membership dues or buy a seat for High Holiday services.

In Chabad, the custom is different: no required fees, no buying seats. Israelis, who have never heard of paying for a synagogue seat, feel far more comfortable there. So do students and young families.

What makes Chabad emissaries truly unique is how deeply this work is ingrained in them from birth. They are educated and prepared for this role from the moment they can understand it. They don’t waste time questioning the mission. And then there is their branding, and I want to dwell on this topic because it is one of the keys to their success.

A Chabad emissary cannot simply paint the local Chabad House in different colors or use a different font. Chabad operates with the discipline of the world’s largest corporations, like Coca-Cola. There are rules, and everyone follows them.

The emissaries are also masters of their relationships. They know how to deliver exceptional service in their areas of expertise. That is why, in most cases, the Chabad restaurant will outlive the local Jewish restaurant. Kashrut is a factor here as well. Chabad holds a stricter kashrut standard than most; if Chabad members want to eat there themselves, it often needs to be a separate establishment.

Beyond that, Chabad emissaries build relationships with local governments, mayors, and successful businesspeople, and they leverage those connections to fund their activities.

As a journalist, I also learned that Chabad rabbis are always available. You can call them at any hour of the day. They will not only answer, but they will give you exactly what you need at that moment: a sharp quote, high-quality photos and videos, and sometimes even a press release.

It is no secret that every desk reporter in Israel knows to call a Chabad center when there’s a major incident in their city. I once had a situation where the Chabad rabbi was not actually the relevant contact during an ongoing terrorist attack in a European city. I knew the community well enough to reach the right rabbi, while every other journalist was scrambling.

Are the rabbis of other streams less involved in their communities? Of course not. But they operate like IBM – methodical, established, proven. Chabad operates like a start-up: always rethinking, always reinventing, and hungry for both success and attention.

As the old adage goes, if you can’t beat them, join them. Not everyone has internalized this advice, however. There are plenty of egos on both sides – in the old-school communities and in Chabad. But Chabad will most likely outlive them all. And in many communities, Chabad is not just a presence; it is the community itself.

This is not the case with every community, though. Sometimes a Chabad rabbi joins an existing community as an employee. And sometimes the rabbis build their own institutions alongside it. But it is impossible to beat Chabad, and perhaps communities should stop trying.

Competition is healthy, yes. But as the years go by, Chabad is growing more influential and more popular. I would not be exaggerating to say that in many communities, especially the smaller ones, Chabad is the future. I am not saying this to take sides or because of any personal interest. It is simply something that is becoming undeniable. Chabad is exceptional at what it does. It is connected in all the right places. And its doors are always open, no matter what.

Instead of fighting Chabad, Jewish organizations and communities worldwide should consider joining forces with it. Because in many communities, it is not just a competitor. It is the future.■