People often compare an Israeli emissary to an undercover agent, and not entirely as a joke. When a shaliach arrives in a new community, some locals wonder how anyone could ever leave Israel, especially in the middle of a war, with my husband completing 500 days of emergency reserve duty. We sometimes let the speculation linger. There’s something amusing about it.
But the truth is simpler, and in some ways more meaningful. Life as an emissary can feel like a quiet, behind-the-scenes mission, not because of secrecy, but because of the sensitivity and attentiveness it demands.
As shlichim, we try to truly notice people, such as those who might appreciate sharing a Shabbat meal together, whether at our table or theirs; someone who is celebrating a milestone; others who could use encouragement; and those who are struggling quietly. Every interaction matters; every relationship is real. Every moment of connection helps us build a community in which everyone feels they belong and are part of a greater purpose.
It can be a lot. At times, it is overwhelming.
Shabbat's beautiful experiences
Then there are the moments that remind us why we’re here – moments of pure, wholehearted service. Such as last Friday morning, when we hosted high school boys for breakfast, and for two and a half hours flipped pancakes for a group of loud, endearing teenagers.
As soon as they left, we put the dishes in the sink and raced out to catch the bus with high school girls who were heading to a shabbaton. The girls arrived beautifully prepared and overflowing with enthusiasm, even if some of the tefillot or routines were new to them. They needed patience, encouragement, and gentle guidance; watching them relax and grow more comfortable as Shabbat unfolded was a beautiful experience.
During one of the Shabbat meals, a staff member gave a Dvar Torah and quoted my husband, who, in the chaos of Friday, had been asked to dash into a Parsha Club to speak for five minutes. (Between pancake flipping and making sure our kids didn’t leave dirty clothes on the floor, I didn’t even know about this impromptu morning speech!)
We returned on Sunday, helped watch the kids of fellow emissaries. In the evening, we led a joint session with Israel’s Aliyah and Integration Ministry for families considering making aliyah.
Monday morning was back to the regular routine: running early basketball practice for the school, curriculum planning meetings for the upcoming Hanukkah holiday, drafting our next adult education lectures, and the countless small tasks that fill our days.
Behind the scenes, shlichim families are constantly lifting and strengthening one another. For example, when a beloved emissary recently faced a difficult moment, within hours, four other emissaries showed up at her home and found small ways to help. We’re filled with gratitude to be part of such a tight-knit network of support, a reminder that we are not doing this work alone.
On paper, it looks like nonstop action – and it is. But the real story is far deeper: this work moves people. It builds identity. It touches hearts in ways we often only notice months later. And this is true not just for us but for shlichim around the world.
And through it all, Israel is never far from our minds. It’s the place that endlessly shapes us, the source of the values we try to bring into every conversation and classroom. That connection feels like a flame we’re carrying with us – a light we didn’t create, but one we’re responsible for extending.
Missing Israel doesn’t dim our work abroad; it sharpens our purpose. The more we long for the rhythm and holiness of home, the more intentional we become about sharing its light, its strength, and its hope with the Jews we meet here. That’s the quiet miracle of shlichut: drawing warmth from Israel’s flame and kindling it, gently and faithfully, wherever we stand – until the day we all join our light together in unison.
The writer is an emissary, together with her husband Ori, for Ohr Torah Stone’s Beren-Amiel Emissary Training Institute, teaching at Bnei Akiva Schools in Toronto and Mizrachi Canada.