For many of Belgium’s 30,000 Jews, 2019 brings with it some uncomfortable restrictions. A law proposed in June 2017, now implemented after a unanimous vote, has outlawed ritual Kosher slaughter in their country.

Designed by the emissaries, the mikvah is uniquely Korean. Its roof is reminiscent of the curved, tiled designs that feature prominently in royal Korean architecture, and the waved aluminium panels on the left side of the building are a nod to the modern, high-tech vibe currently sweeping the country. The mikvah pool features intricate mosaic tiles placed along the walls that were artfully formed in the shape of a single droplet of water, encouraging one to contemplate the sanctity and rebirth associated with the waters of the mikvah.

For most readers, the fascinating meanderings and careful reconciliations of apparently contradictory details will obscure the big insight that brackets the Rebbe’s writing: the “theory of everything”—the profound unity that pervades all of Torah thought. Block carefully prunes the Rebbe’s winding tendrils of thought to help the reader see the recurring themes in the Rebbe’s writings.

When the Chabad rabbi walks the streets of Nashville, he’ll often be greeted by strangers. “Bless you, rabbi!” or “Bless Israel, we pray for you,” they’ll say. The friendly reception towards Shlomo Rothstein, Chabad emissary at Vanderbilt University, and his wife Nechama, also prevails on campus, where the college community values the presence of Chabad. In this regard, Vanderbilt stands in sharp contrast to many other universities where anti-Israel demonstrations, anti-Semitic vandalism, and a general disdain for religious beliefs and practice make life difficult for Jewish students.

How does a young couple begin to build a community? That question has been on my mind since my daughter and son-in-law became Chabad emissaries to an expansive rural town on the East Coast. For all its landmass, the town has a small population and is home to fewer than a thousand Jews. I couldn’t imagine how my daughter and her husband would go about creating a community there. Perhaps they should reconsider, I said, and look for a place where there is a greater need.

Designed by the emissaries, the mikvah is uniquely Korean. Its roof is reminiscent of the curved, tiled designs that feature prominently in royal Korean architecture, and the waved aluminium panels on the left side of the building are a nod to the modern, high-tech vibe currently sweeping the country. The mikvah pool features intricate mosaic tiles placed along the walls that were artfully formed in the shape of a single droplet of water, encouraging one to contemplate the sanctity and rebirth associated with the waters of the mikvah.

Four years ago, Amos Oz began an unlikely friendship with the Chabad representative to Rivne (Rovno), Ukraine.

This ritzy S. Paulo suburb is home to one thousand Jewish families. Since 2005, Rabbi Eliyahu and Rivky Rosenfeld have been holding services, running a Hebrew school, and teaching classes in a small rented home here. The people were interested; the leaders passionate. But their success quickly became their greatest obstacle: there simply wasn’t enough room.

When Rabbi Choli and Chana Mushka (Alevsky) Mishulovin first drove through the neighborhoods of South Bronx, they weren’t sure about setting up a Chabad center among the graffitied buildings. In the 1960’s, South Bronx had been a thriving, middle-class neighborhood where close to half of the population was Jewish. As crime rose, Jews began leaving. Twelve years ago, the last surviving shul closed its doors. Choli says it’s hard to know how many of today’s South Bronx residents are Jewish.

After decades of running activities out of two small family homes, Chabad of Short Hills, New Jersey opened a state-of-the-art 28,000-square-foot center on a nostalgic landmark on the city’s main street.