Rebbe’s legacy lives on – with or without McDonald’s

There’s a Jewish joke that wherever you go in the world, no matter how remote or obscure, you’re guaranteed to find two things: a Chabad House and a McDonald’s.

I found myself in Moscow when the first major sanctions were imposed on Russia after its invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. McDonald’s had shut its doors, one of the first major global brands to pack up and leave. But Chabad? Chabad stayed. It was still there, offering food, prayer services, and a space for Jews to gather.

Turns out, the joke needed updating. There was a Chabad, but no McDonald’s.

That story, in its way, speaks volumes about the global reach and resilience of Chabad. And behind every one of those houses – whether in Russia, South Africa, Ukraine, or anywhere else – stands the legacy of one man: Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the Lubavitcher Rebbe.

I’m not religious. I’m a secular Jewish journalist. I don’t usually write about rabbis or anniversaries of their deaths. But last Sunday, 29 June, I found myself sitting in a packed hall in Johannesburg at a commemorative event marking 31 years since the Rebbe’s passing. Representatives from Chabad centres across Johannesburg were there. Speakers shared stories, showed emotion, and spoke about the Rebbe not as a distant figure from another time, but as someone whose teachings and presence still shape how they live today.

And what struck me most is that, even for someone outside the Chabad world – someone like me – the Rebbe’s legacy still resonates.

That’s because his impact doesn’t rest solely on religious teachings. You don’t need to believe in miracles or be observant to recognise what he achieved. His influence, to my mind, is felt most powerfully in three areas: global Jewish identity; geopolitical insight; and human leadership.

He never visited Israel. And yet, Israeli leaders sought his guidance repeatedly – from Yitzhak Rabin to Menachem Begin to Benjamin Netanyahu. The Rebbe had a clear vision of Israel’s strategic and moral standing, long before it was fashionable or popular. He warned that land-for-peace deals with people who denied Israel’s right to exist wouldn’t bring peace, only more violence. He believed strength and moral clarity were essential, not weakness and concessions.

Decades later, those warnings feel even more relevant.

In today’s language, we’d probably call him a thought leader. But he was far more than that. He was a strategic thinker, not just for Chabad, not just for religious Jews, but for the entire Jewish world.

And yet, he wasn’t engaging only with presidents and prime ministers. The same Rebbe who wrote to world leaders would spend hours with everyday people who came to see him in Crown Heights, New York City. Whether you were a taxi driver or a lost teenager, he made time for you. His message filtered out not through fanfare, but through personal connection, thousands of letters, and small, powerful moments.

Before I became an accredited journalist in Israel, I took a break from working at the South African Broadcasting Corporation and travelled to Israel on a shoestring budget. I stayed with a school friend who lived in Mea Shearim, one of Jerusalem’s most ultra-Orthodox neighbourhoods. Her house had no photographs, except for one of the Rebbe, hanging in the living room. At the time, I didn’t know who he was. He hadn’t played a role in my life.

It was during that trip that I reported on my first war – spending my days out near the Gaza border, covering the conflict, and returning each night to the strictly observant and digitally disconnected world of my friend. After one long day in the field, I came home and she asked me casually, “So, what did you do today?”

I looked at her and said, “Do you know there’s a war?”

She didn’t. And she wasn’t particularly concerned. She just smiled and said, “The Rebbe reassured us that Hashem watches over everyone in Israel.” That was the first time I understood the depth of trust and faith people had in him.

Since then, I’ve encountered Chabad in many corners of the world. In Kyiv, during the worst of the fighting, I found comfort inside a Chabad centre. I had the same feeling in Moscow on Yom Kippur. The world outside felt uncertain. But inside those spaces, there was something steady, a reminder of connection and continuity.

That’s what the Rebbe instilled: the belief that no Jew is ever too far, too secular, or too lost to come home.

His teachings are vast. He spoke and wrote about everything from Torah to science, from psychology to politics. He was brilliant, but he never made others feel small. He could take complex ideas and make them real, human, and actionable.

There’s a saying in the Talmud: “The righteous, even in death, are called alive.” And when you walk into a Chabad House, you feel that. His photo might be on the wall, but his presence is in the spirit of the place – in the energy, the welcome, the mission.

For someone like me, someone who reports on war, displacement, and fractured communities, the Rebbe’s legacy stands in stark contrast. It’s rooted in optimism, responsibility, and the belief that the Jewish story is still unfolding.

He didn’t dodge the hard questions. He faced them head-on, and pushed others to do the same. His message was never passive. It was a call to act.

There have been many rabbis in our history. Many leaders. But it’s the exceptional ones among them whose influence doesn’t just last, it grows. The Rebbe is among them.

You don’t have to be Chabad to feel it. You don’t even have to be religious. But if you walk into a Chabad House – anywhere in the world – you’ll find someone who believes in you. Someone who thinks your Jewishness matters. That’s the Rebbe’s gift, still unfolding.

So, yes, in 2025, there are still Chabad Houses and McDonald’s across the world. But if you ever find yourself in a place with only one of them left, I hope it’s Chabad.

• Paula Slier is an international journalist, media trainer, and public speaker. She founded Newshound Media International and Newshound Academy, and has reported from conflict zones for more than 30 years. She currently hosts the afternoon show on ChaiFM radio.