English Blog

The Truth About Our Annual Gala

Thursday, November 20, 2025 - 7:50 PM

Our gala is this Monday night, and thank G-d, we’re looking at another spectacular, sold-out, magical, uplifting and inspiring evening. It’s our one-a-year gala and there’s nothing like it.

Most people only see the finished product. They walk into a fully decked out hall, enjoy an elaborate and luxurious catered dinner, listen to fine-tuned presentations, catch up with friends, and go home on a high.

What they don’t see is everything that happened before that night! And it’s a lot.

Every year, when I reach out to people, they tell me: “Rabbi, you don’t need my help. The gala always sells out!”

And I smile politely while thinking: If only you knew…

Because this is New York City. The toughest market in the world. We aren’t the only event in town—or even one of a handful. People have a million options every night: bars, comedy shows, Broadway, the best restaurants in the world, parties, influencers livestreaming from rooftops … Why should anyone come to our gala?

And the effort we expend is tremendous! We work on this gala all year. A full year of work for one night!

Are we professionals? Party planners? Event coordinators? Far from it. We’re just determined Jews with laptops, caffeine, and a vision we’ll do almost anything to bring to life.

This year, we published a book for the occasion. Writing, editing, publishing, printing … we did it all. And then there’s the videos, speakers, décor, centerpieces, journal ads … it’s no small feat.

The list of things that can go wrong is longer than the guest list!

But actually getting guests in the room? That’s harder than splitting the Red Sea.

So what’s our secret? How do we do it?

It’s not strategy, creativity, or experience. It’s because we are the Lubavitcher Rebbe's shluchim.

Everyone sees the lights, the music, the cameras. Nobody sees the sleepless nights, the last-minute crises, or the whispered prayers backstage: “Hashem … please, let this work.”

Human effort alone can’t explain the success; He is the real power behind the gala.

So, here we are, just days before the gala. We’re tired, nervous, hopeful, and doing so much praying.

And I know He will carry us.

Because this event is sacred. This isn’t our gala. It’s His. And it’s for His soldiers — the heroes who protect Am Yisrael with their bodies, their courage, and their souls.

I’m Staying in New York

Thursday, November 13, 2025 - 8:05 PM

Thousands of Chabad emissaries are flying to New York from every corner of the globe to spend the weekend in Brooklyn for the Kinus Hashluchim - the annual International Conference of Chabad Emissaries.

And in this instance, “every corner of the globe” is no exaggeration. Chabad rabbis from Bangkok, Berlin, Alaska, Argentina, Siberia … they’ll all be there. And so will I.

Living in NYC doesn’t make it any less exciting for me. This is a once-a-year immersive opportunity to recharge, unite, learn, and collaborate with thousands of my peers who are living just like me.

Every year, the energy is electric. Old friends reconnect. Miracle stories make the rounds. We laugh, we cry, we sing, we dance, we stay up till all hours bonding over our shared mission - the Rebbe’s mission - to bring light into the world, to spread goodness and kindness, to uplift humanity.

We’re the Rebbe’s army and there’s no army like us anywhere else in the universe.

But this year, there’s a damper.

My phone and inbox (and those of my peers) are flooded with emails, texts, and phone calls from deeply worried community members.

“Rabbi, what’s going to be with New York?”
“The new mayor hates us.”
“Should we move? Should we run away?”
“You know he wants to shut down Belev Echad because it helps IDF soldiers?”

And I get it. The news cycle is dark and the streets feel tense. Antisemitic voices are growing louder, and politicians are saying things that would’ve been unthinkable just a few years ago.

The fear is real and it can be paralyzing.

But here’s what I tell them - and what I tell myself:

G-d and G-d alone is in control. Always.
It is He who runs the world and this great city, not the politicians in City Hall.
And He determines the future, not the polls.

“Well, where was G-d in the 1930s?” people ask me. “Shouldn’t the Jews have run from Hitler?”

And I have no perfect answer.
My own grandparents were among those who didn’t run. They stayed in Budapest and were shipped to Auschwitz, where they endured hell on earth.

But I do know this: The Lubavitcher Rebbe told us clearly that there will never be another Holocaust. It will not happen again. And I take comfort in that.

And New York?

This city holds a unique status. It is the city where the Rebbe lived, where he led farbrengens and spoke thousands of hours of holy teachings, where he stood for hours giving out dollars and blessings to people from all walks of life who sought his blessings, where his voice thundered with hope and faith, and where he declared that this city - this crazy, chaotic city - is the capital of the world.

And it’s where we, an unstoppable army of Chabad emissaries from all over the world, are gathering this weekend, to illuminate the world and eradicate the darkness.

So no, I’m not going anywhere. While I understand the fear, I’ll be staying right here in New York, building, teaching, inspiring, and illuminating, until Moshiach comes.

We’re Jews. We don’t cower or hide. We light up the darkness.

So this Shabbat, light your candles with pride, sing your zemiros a little louder, walk to shul without fear, openly displaying your kippah and tzitzit.

Living louder and brighter is the strongest response to fear and it’s how we bring Moshiach (at which point I’ll gladly move to Israel with you!).

So as I gather with thousands of my fellow shluchim in the Rebbe’s city this weekend, that light will shine a little brighter, reminding us all that even in uncertain times, we are exactly where we’re meant to be.

I Lost All My Credit Cards!

Thursday, November 6, 2025 - 2:34 PM

Shabbat was over. I had just spent an incredible 25 hours surrounded by my siblings, parents, and way too much food, celebrating my nephew’s wedding.

Eight out of nine siblings had all gathered in Israel for the weekend, during which we laughed, sang, bonded, told stories, and relished in the nostalgia of the old days, when we all lived together.

Then Shabbat ended and it was time to check out of the hotel.

The receptionist smiled and said, “That’ll be 60 shekels for parking.”

Simple enough. I reached for my credit card, except … it wasn’t there.

No problem, I thought. Probably in my jacket.

Nope.

Pants pocket? Nada.

Suitcase? Empty.

So I did what most people do when they can’t find something - I started panicking!

I opened and reopened every suitcase and checked every pocket and zipper compartment. Over and over again. I checked every pocket of every pair of pants I’d worn that week! But without success. My three credit cards, my Global Entry card, and my driver’s license were all gone.

“Where’s my credit card? My Global Entry? My license!” I kept repeating like a broken record.

My siblings joined in, forming a full-blown search party.

Meanwhile, my brother, with whom I’d shared a room, was having his own meltdown.

“I can’t find my car keys!” he wailed.

He’d kept them locked in the safe over Shabbat, and now they were gone.

So we both went back to our room for one final desperate sweep. I got down on my knees, checking under the beds and behind the furniture, and that’s when I discovered that I had his keys in my pocket!

Apparently, I had put them there thinking they were mine, while my own car keys were safely with the valet.

So now we had his keys, but I still had no credit card and no license.

At this point, I was sweating. The receptionist was giving me that “Oh no, not another tourist” look, and my embarrassment and desperation were growing.

Then my oldest brother, in his calm, wise, and slightly annoyed way, suggested: “Why don’t you call the hotel where you stayed Thursday night in Petach Tikva? Maybe you left it there.”

“No chance,” I said. “I never lose things.” (Time to eat my words.)

But I called anyway. And guess what? “Yes, we found your credit card and license!” the receptionist said cheerfully.

Relief flooded through me, and best of all, I was headed right back to Petach Tikva, to that very hotel again, that night.

So what did I learn from the experience?

Don’t panic; remember that Hashem is in charge. He always has a plan and things will work out exactly as intended. I spent an hour searching, worrying, and sweating … and it changed absolutely nothing. We are told Hashem always provides the cure before the illness, and indeed, He arranged for my cards to be safe before I even noticed and started worrying.
Give charity. There is a rich and long-held tradition to give charity when something important is missing. In the merit of helping others, we hope to locate the lost item.
Be mindful where you’re searching. I kept tearing apart my suitcase and pockets — but my credit cards weren’t there. In life, we often search for meaning, happiness, or purpose in all the wrong places. We pursue fame, wealth and pleasure, but true happiness remains elusive. When we focus on living a G-dly life, learning Torah, doing mitzvot, and helping others, that’s when we find what we’re really looking for.
Your true identity is never lost. My license, my Global Entry, and my credit cards — my “identity” — were misplaced, but never gone. Sometimes we lose sight of who we are, but our real self, our soul, is always there at our core, waiting for us to tap back in and rediscover it.