The continued existence of the Jewish people is one of the most confusing and statistically inexplicable phenomena in human history. How are we still here? For millennia, we’ve faced systemic oppression, exiles, pogroms, expulsions, and attempted genocides – historical efforts to erase us from existence. And yet we have defied every grim forecast of annihilation.
Well, I think I’ve figured it out. It is not just about resilience, there’s something deeper at play here, something that transcends survival and touches the very core of what it means to be a Jew.
It is our sense of community and how we act as such.
Despite the fact that none of us have truly had the time to slow down and process the profound loss that was this past year, the Jewish community continues to give without ever expecting anything in return. I’ve been on the receiving end of that giving more times than I can count – without anyone asking what I’d give back.
That’s where the magic happens. That’s the root of our strength. That’s why the Jewish community is the strongest it’s ever been. It’s also why I feel an unshakable sense of duty in my activism, advocacy, and work. People have shown me kindness, support, and generosity, not because they were obligated to do so, but simply because they wanted to. And in turn, that inspires me to keep giving – to be part of that same cycle of unreserved, unconditional support.
I have been hosted across the world, literally. I’ve walked into Shabbat meals where I didn’t know a single person. Because that is the power and beauty of the Jewish community. I’ve been welcomed into homes across Europe, Israel, and the United States by people I’d never met – and all I ever heard at the end of the meal was, “Please, come back soon.” And the craziest part? I know they genuinely meant it.
There’s something transformative about that kind of openness, something profoundly grounding about being part of a community that operates on trust and care.
This past weekend, I found myself on a Shabbaton in Far Rockaway, New York, staying with a family I had never met. We had barely exchanged more than a few words prior to my arrival, yet without hesitation, they handed me the key to their front door and welcomed me as if I were a lifelong friend or even family. They knew nothing of my story, where I was from or who I was, but they opened their arms to me without a second thought.
They not only hosted me for Shabbat, but by the end of the weekend, I felt as though I had gained a younger sister and experienced warmth that can only come from family. As Shabbat came to a close, they told me I was welcome back “anytime” – and it wasn’t just polite words. There was a sincerity in their eyes, a warmth in their voices that let me know they genuinely meant it.
This wasn’t an isolated incident – it’s something that has happened to me across the globe. From bustling places like Manhattan to small towns in Europe, this kind of hospitality is the norm in the Jewish community. I’ve experienced this again and again: people I’d never met before opening their homes to me with nothing more than the knowledge that I, too, was part of the Jewish family. Strangers have welcomed me into their homes with warmth, trust, and genuine care as if this is just how things are supposed to be. And to us, it is.
The Far Rockaway family’s gesture wasn’t just about giving me a place to stay – it was about affirming the unspoken bond that exists within the Jewish community that transcends geography, language, or background. It’s the understanding that, no matter where you are or who you are, there’s always someone in the Jewish community ready to open their home, their heart, and their table to you.
It’s more than just hospitality.
It’s a sense of the responsibility we feel for one another, a kind of built-in instinct to care for each other as members of a single extended family. And it’s not only that they gave me a bed to sleep in or a meal to eat – they made me feel safe, cared for, and part of something bigger. They gave me a sense of belonging, without ever asking for anything in return. That’s the magic of the Jewish community: a web of unspoken, unconditional generosity that holds us together, even when we come from different corners of the world.
It’s an experience that’s hard to explain to those outside the Jewish community.
The idea that you can knock on a stranger’s door, say “Shabbat Shalom,” and be invited in like a lifelong friend is something unique to us. It’s not about politeness or obligation – it’s about recognizing the deep connection we share, the shared history and values that unite us. It’s a testament to the power of our people to create community wherever we go. It’s this constant flow of giving, receiving, and belonging that defines us and, ultimately, strengthens us.
My non-Jewish friends have often commented on this. In fact, one of my closest friends, Milana, who inspired this piece, once said to me: “You guys always help each other. Do you ever get anything in return?” I laughed. I’ve connected people to internships, introduced peers to future partners, and arranged countless Shabbat dinners not because I expected some future favor, but because I wanted to see them flourish. Their joy is my joy. Their success is my success.
This reminds me of a famous quote by the Lubavitcher Rebbe: “When two Jews meet,” he said, there is always a third present: “the Divine Presence.” When we come together, we transcend the limits of individuality. Our actions create a ripple effect that moves through time, space, and spirit. This is why our community endures. We are bound by something greater than ourselves – by a shared history of struggle, resilience, and most importantly, by love.
At the core of the Jewish community is an unspoken yet universally understood sense of responsibility for one another. We are linked by more than religion and more than tradition. We are linked by an understanding that the collective well-being of our people depends on our willingness to care for one another. It’s not just about survival – it’s about thriving together, lifting each other up, and giving without hesitation. This past year has been a reminder of the challenges we face as a people. Yet, in every dark moment, I’ve seen light. In every loss, I’ve witnessed an outpouring of love. The strength of the Jewish community lies not in our numbers, but in the way we give, in the way we come together, and in the way we endure – together.
How we are still here is not a mystery. It’s because we show up for each other. It’s because our resilience is fueled by love, and our survival is rooted in an unbreakable commitment to community.
That is our power. That is our strength.
The writer, the daughter of Soviet refugees and a first-generation American, is a UC Berkeley alumna, activist, and NYC resident. She is passionate about building inclusive communities and advocating for understanding across diverse groups.