The following is the opinion and analysis of the writer:
Rabbi Yehuda Ceitlin
In the early 2000s, I had the privilege and pleasure of spending holidays in Zhytomyr, Ukraine. It was exciting to see historical depictions of the shtetl come to life and empowering to see how local Jews were eager to engage with their faith.
But more importantly, it was motivating to work under the auspices of Rabbi Shlomo Wilhelm, who embodied youthful energy and Chassidic faith.
Spending many a Passover and Rosh Hashanah with his community gave me a deep appreciation for the dedication needed to keep a community together — not to mention reviving one that had been beaten down by the atrocities of both the Nazis and Communists.
Before World War II, a third of Zhytomyr’s population was Jewish. When the Nazis invaded, most of its 30,000 Jews fled east, leaving 10,000 behind. Many who stayed were tragically shot and buried in mass graves. After the war, some Jews returned, only to face Communist repression, which outlawed religious practice.
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Rabbi Wilhelm and his wife Esther arrived in Zhytomyr in 1994. They worked out of the old synagogue on Malaya Berdichevskaya Street, whose facade was distinct with its faded, yellow-painted bricks. They labored to cater to the elderly Yiddish-speaking population while attracting the then-Russian-speaking younger crowd.
“When we arrived in Zhytomyr 30 years ago, the atmosphere was depressing, outdated, and disconnected,” he recently recalled. “Even water only ran in the taps in the middle of the night, from midnight until two in the morning.”
Over time, Rabbi and Mrs. Wilhelm renovated the synagogue, repaired the Jewish cemetery, opened the Or Avner Jewish day school, built the Alumim Children’s Home for orphans, uplifted many souls and provided food to many hungry mouths. They also opened eight Chabad centers in western Ukraine.
This past summer, I met Rabbi Wilhelm again after many years of not meeting face to face. It was at his son’s wedding, which was held in Brooklyn, New York. It wasn’t too much later that I made a startling discovery about his mission with Chabad — one that left me with a profound lesson about finding our purpose in the world.
He told me that after Russian forces invaded Ukraine, the majority of his community, including the residents of the orphanage, fled to avoid the horror. The bulk of his community moved to the southern Israeli city of Ashkelon. He divided his time between both cities.
But the days of respite in Israel didn’t last long. On Simchat Torah — Oct. 7, 2023, Hamas terrorists attacked Israel and rained rockets on Ashkelon.
It was as if the community had never left the horrors of Ukraine.
In talking about his experiences, Rabbi Wilhelm made a fascinating confession: “When I was looking for a place for my shlichut (a rabbinical position), there were two places I said I would never go — Zhytomyr and Ashkelon,” he said. As a rabbinical student, he had spent time working in both locations and didn’t see himself living in either of them.
As Divine providence would have it, he became Zhytomyr’s Chief Rabbi. And two years ago, after the war broke out, he also ended up in Ashkelon. He became perhaps the only Chabad Rabbi to lead a community split between two locations — both of which he had initially hoped to avoid.
Many search for their calling in life and struggle to find an occupation suited to fulfill their passions. The Chassidic view is to see where you are as where you are meant to be — and to both be inspired and inspire your surroundings whenever you find yourself, whether you initially envisioned it or not.
In the words of Rabbi Wilhelm, “The simple understanding is that you go where you are needed, not where you want to go.” Where you are is where your mission is. It’s up to you to find your passion there.
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Rabbi Yehuda Ceitlin is the Outreach Director of Chabad Tucson, the Jewish network of Southern Arizona.

