Steven Hyatt grew up in Waterford Connecticut, attended University of Connecticut and played basketball at Avery Point. Married with two children, he works for the Gannett company, with the Statesman Journal in Salem, Oregon and six other Northwestern newspapers.
"My family provided a warm and loving environment, but we didn't do much religiously besides go to Shul on high holy days. I discovered Chabad at age 27 when I met the energetic Rabbi Yonason Denebeim in Palm Springs, California who reintroduced me to Judasim. Still young and not knowing what I wanted in life, I explored my Jewish roots but wasn't ready to commit myself.
I moved to Wilmington, Delaware in 1995. One day I returned from a business trip and found a "pizza" box on my office desk. Opening it, I found several pieces of Shmura matza and a note from Rabbi Vogel. I called to thank him, he asked me over for Shabbos dinner, and the rest is history. The Vogel family patiently taught me about our traditions, answered myriad questions and fed me tons of Kugel. In fact we coined a phrase for something easy, "It's a piece of Kugel."
I recently attended a regional conference in Portland, Oregon, where Chabad Rabbis from cities throughout the West gathered for a weekend of prayer, study and inspiration, -and Rebbetzin Wilhelm's world-class cooking!
I never saw Jewish prayer like this. The energy, joy, excitement and love that filled the shul was unbelievable! These "Men in Black" rocked the house!
We sang, we danced, and we davened with a passion. This was Shabbat! This was Jewish life as it was meant to be!
Chabad rabbis show us that Shabbat isn't only about negative things we can't do; it's more than just restrictions. On the contrary, Shabbat is a personal enrichment that saves us from worldly pressure, and gives us time to appreciate G-d's blessings, eat great food, say l'chaim with friends, celebrate Jewish experience and recharge our soul.
During the weekend I got to know several of these warm and exciting people.
Don't let the men's black suits and long beards fool you. They share a similar passion for the men, women and children of the communities they serve. Each of them has dedicated his or her life to the advancement of Jewish life in remote places around the globe. Their goal is to share Yiddishkeit with their brethren.
These pioneers willingly leave the cozy, sheltered confines of their yeshivas and journey out to the unknown. They are charged with the responsibility of setting up "shop" far from centers of Jewish learning.
These shluchim are on their own, receiving no funds from their New York "headquarters." They move to places unknown, with more dedication in their hearts than dollars in their pockets, and somehow find a way to make the miracle happen. Never have so few made so much, with so little.
Shabbat services suddenly spring up where none existed. Kosher food appears where none previously existed. Purim festivals, Lag B'Omer picnics, Passover Seders, distinctive Sukkot and rousing Simchat Torah celebrations start growing as the Jewish community's fertile ground is plowed and seeded by these dedicated men and women.
Before discovering Chabad, I found no depth in my heritage and religion. Prayer, Tefilin, Torah study and Shul on Shabbat, seemed meaningless. Chabad helped me discover the Jewish treasure of inner peace and joy.
They welcome Jews with open, loving, undemanding spiritual arms. If you want to become a Torah scholar, then you've come to the right place. But if you never learned to read Hebrew and just want to taste a kugel like your great-grandmother used to make, then you have a place at Chabad as well.
All Jews are welcome. There are no demands, no expectations and no judgements. No one looks down on you for what you don't know. If you want to learn, they are willing to teach.
If I seem over-zealous in praising Chabad, then I am guilty as charged. I had a Bar Mitzvah when I was 13 and attended Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services on occasion. That was the extent of my Jewish experience. Then, three years ago I realized that money and a flourishing career weren't enough. I had a nagging aching pain in my heart that personal success could not repair. Yoga didn't ease the pain. Meditating didn't fill the void.
Jogging endorphins didn't anesthetize the hurt. Something was missing from my life and I was drowning in a sea of despair.
Then Rabbi Choni Vogel threw me a spiritual life preserver. He served as my guide through a personal journey that has taken me to places I didn't think possible. And he never once asked me for anything in return, selflessly giving of himself and his family. These dedicated people are the flame and future of Judaism.
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