By COLlive reporter
It was the kind of weekend that leaves an imprint on the soul.
The story began under a broad Georgia sky, at the stunning new campus of Chabad of Emory, led by Rabbi Zalman and Miriam Lipskier. A place that feels less like a building and more like a heart, open, welcoming, alive.
It was there that Shluchos from every corner of Georgia, from small towns and big cities, new posts and old, came together for the annual Kinus Hashluchos. They arrived as individuals, each with her own stories, struggles, and milestones, but by Friday night, they were something else entirely: a sisterhood.
Before Shabbos even began, there was laughter. A personalized makeup session offered more than blush and eyeliner; it provided breathing room. A moment to feel human. To prepare for the sacredness of Shabbos not just with food and candles, but with dignity and joy.
Then came the meals, the davening, the farbrengens, the kind that last into the early morning hours, where truth spills out between sips of tea and tears are welcomed like old friends. Boro Park Shlucha Mrs. Shternie Ginsburg, the guest speaker, brought stories that wrapped around the room like a warm shawl, stories about resilience, faith, and the quiet strength of women who hold up the world.
And it wasn’t just inspiration, it was oxygen.
Because this work, this holy Shlichus, it demands everything. And as Rabbi Yossi and Dassie New, Head Shluchim of Georgia, reminded everyone: even on airplanes they tell you, “Put on your own oxygen mask first.” These moments of spiritual rejuvenation? They’re not luxury, they’re a necessity.
As Shlucha Chana Refson reflected, “The Georgia Kinus was a wonderful experience, bonding with fellow Shluchos. Seeing the growth of Chabad in Georgia was truly inspiring.”
The annual Kinus is generously sponsored by Ian and Carol Ratner and family.
Come Sunday morning, the scene shifted, but the soul of it stayed.
This time, the Shluchim, the Rabbonim from around the state, gathered for the Kinus Hashluchim. There were handshakes, hugs, and a kind of unspoken knowing, the bond of men who carry the weight of leadership not as a burden but as a calling.
They came for learning, for workshops that dove deep into Torah education, outreach, and personal growth, for a farbrengen led by Rabbi Yossi Klein, Mashpia at Yeshivas Tomchei Temimim in Nyack, NY, the kind that doesn’t end when the chairs are put away because it echoes in your mind long after. His words weren’t just heard; they were felt, and they sparked conversations that turned into commitments, ideas that turned into plans.
It wasn’t a conference. It was a lifeline.
When the sunset on Sunday evening came, the campus grew quiet again. But something lingered in the air, a kind of electricity. Each Shliach and Shlucha who had walked through those doors would soon return to their cities and neighborhoods carrying more than inspiration. They carried connection, a renewed sense of mission, and the reminder that while they may work far apart, they are never alone.
Georgia was just a little brighter that night.
Because from that beautiful campus at Emory, from the warmth of the hospitality, from every d’var Torah shared and every niggun sung, the light of Torah and Chassidus had been reignited, and now it was ready to spread.
One mitzvah at a time.
