Mussie and I were in DC this week, where we were warmly welcomed by Secretary Noem at DHS, Senator Rounds, Congressman Johnson, and Senate Majority Leader Thune’s office. We discussed matters relating to the Jewish community in South Dakota and across the country, as well as the importance of the U.S.–Israel alliance.
The architecture of our institutions is magnificent, and recognizing the power held in those offices inspires awe and reverence. They say when you're in Washington, you never know who you'll bump into…
While waiting in the security line at the Hart Senate Office Building, I noticed standing right in front of me none other than Mahmoud Khalil. I figured that would be the end of it, but as we both walked toward the elevators, it became clear we were heading in the same direction and ended up in the same elevator.
There I was, face to face with a man who has become the symbol of the protests and hate at Columbia University, someone whose words and actions caused fear among Jewish students, and their parents. Just a day earlier on CNN, he couldn’t bring himself to say a negative word about Hamas or Palestinian terrorism.
A lot ran through my mind at that moment. But as I stood there in the elevator looking at him, I saw him look down, clearly uncomfortable standing next to someone he recognized as a religious Jew. He seemed unsure of himself, even ashamed. 
I saw him not as the symbol the media portrays of resistance, not as a figure of courage or strength, but as a very small man who, most likely, had come to plead his case before Congress and speak his mind, as is his right.
Reflecting later, I realized how much the tables have turned from previous generations, how fortunate we are to live in this country. My great-grandparents, who lived in Russia and Europe, would probably have been terrified to step foot near the halls of their governments, and to pass a known personality who spewed hateful rhetoric would have likely struck fear in their hearts. But here in America, we feel safe and secure. Here, it is those who promote hate and support our enemies that find themselves uncertain walking these halls. I was very comfortable walking in Congress with my head held high. That stark difference was not lost on me.
I grew up reading the stories of Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe, and how he defiantly visited government offices in Moscow, risking his life to to advocate for the needs of Soviet Jewry. The danger for the Jews then was very real. But here, thank G-d, we are blessed. We are treated with honor and dignity. We can walk in our government offices confidently. We feel safe, like we should.
The overwhelming majority of Americans support and appreciate the Jewish people, and we pray that continues. That support is strongly reflected in Congress in their support here at home and for our brothers and sisters in the Holy Land of Israel. And I was able to hear it in my conversations, and feel it in the air.
It reminded me of the words of the prophet Jeremiah: "Seek the peace of the city where you dwell… for in its peace, you will find peace." And of G-d’s eternal promise to Abraham: "I will bless those who bless you." May G-d bless America.

July 4 is a time to celebrate, and it's also a time to reflect on the gratitude we feel as Jews living in America. The word “Jew” comes from the word Yehuda, which is rooted in hoda’ah, gratitude. It’s a reminder that our very identity is tied to being thankful: to G‑d, and to the people and places that do good for us. And today, there is so much to be grateful for.
When we reflect on the freedoms and opportunities America has given us, we realize that despite some upsetting situations, there has never been a better time or place to live openly and proudly as a Jew. The Rebbe often described America as a malchut shel chesed, a kingdom of kindness, that serves as a beacon of generosity and moral leadership, where Jewish people have been welcomed and embraced. But with these great blessings also comes a unique challenge: the need to preserve and deepen our identity not in spite of hardship, but amid comfort and acceptance.
No longer is our Jewish identity bound up with persecution or escape. Today in America, we are recognized, appreciated, and valued. That means the responsibility to remain deeply connected, to learn more, to understand more, and to actively participate in Jewish life, is now fully ours. In a society where we are free to choose, we must choose to be Jewish in ever more meaningful ways.
When we do so, the “goldene medina” can be truly golden for Jewish life, with opportunities that our grandparents could all but have dreamed of. 
Two of the ideals I find most inspiring about America are “In God We Trust” and “E Pluribus Unum.” This country was built on faith and trust in G‑d, which I believe lies at the heart of its prosperity. Alongside that is our value of unity, that out of many, we are one. We may not all look the same or worship the same, but we share a common destiny. It is up to each of us to do our part to keep America the greatest country the world has ever known, and make sure it is even better for our children.
The Rebbe expressed deep appreciation for the blessings America had given him, both personally and communally. It provided a safe haven for him, his wife, his mother, and his father-in-law, and became fertile ground to replant and grow the Chabad-Lubavitch movement after the Holocaust. When the Rebbe assumed leadership, his first public address was given in a small room in Brooklyn to a group of Holocaust survivors and escapees of Stalin's gulags. Today, thanks also to the blessings of this great country, Chabad has become a household name.
So today, we celebrate the extraordinary blessing that is America. We thank G‑d for it, and we pray for the continued safety, strength, and success of the leaders, warriors and citizens of this great nation. As the prophet Jeremiah said: “Seek the peace of the city where I have caused you to dwell... for in its peace, you shall have peace.”