I traveled throughout the U.S. visiting with Chabad's outreach emissaries. I spent weekends sleeping in their homes, sharing their food, playing with their children.

I am very impressed by their devotion to family, their work ethic, optimism and openness to the world. Lubavitchers aren't insular as other Hasidim. They adhere to strict Jewish observance, but fully live in this world and can converse with anyone about anything. They know who they are, but they don't reject me for what I am. Their combination of high personal standards and a nonjudgmental attitude to others is compelling.

Without exception, they opened their lives to me with incredible generosity, activating within me what they would call my Jewish soul. After many meals in Lubavitch homes, I'm more aware of the food I eat. I don't keep kosher-yet, as a Chabadnik would insist- but what used to be mere habit is now a conscious choice each time I eat.

One rabbi gave me a pushke charity can, I remember seeing my grandmother put pennies and nickels into a blue and white JNF pushke on her kitchen counter, but I never had one myself. Now, I too, give tzedaka daily. Dropping in my coins connects me in a very real, physical way to the generations of Jewish women who preceded me. It's the first time I felt the link between the Mitzvah act and its spiritual benefit.

I've been touched by how Chabad incorporates into their daily life the Jewish values to which most give only lip service.

I'll never forget the day Minnesota shliach Rabbi Moshe Feller, in his sixties, dropped me off at the airport. Waiting for my flight to California, I perused the deli cart for something to take on the plane. They only had ham. Whereas I once wouldn't think twice, I now hesitated to eat trayf so soon after a weekend with Chabad. Sounds silly, but I just couldn't do it.

Walking to my flight, I saw Rabbi Feller running towards me with a small brown paper bag. "I got home, and my wife couldn't believe I let you go without lunch," he apologized. "Please, you shouldn't go hungry." Inside the bag were neatly wrapped slices of kosher cheese, bread, a cookie and a bottle of juice. I almost cried.

Rabbi Feller tried to prevent me from violating kosher rules; but his major impetus was simple Jewish inspired hospitality.

From the introduction to "The Rebbe's Army," Published by Shocken Books