News

Lessons from Shavuot: Finding a Path Through the Wilderness

Author

Rabbi Heather Paul

Date

May 20, 2026

“May I be empty
and open to receive the light
May I be empty
and open to receive   

May I be full 
and open to receive the light
May I be full 
and open to receive”

The holiday of Shavuot celebrates a moment of receiving. After wandering through the vast, empty desert, the Israelites arrived at Mount Sinai to receive the Torah — the great revelation after liberation, the moment our tribes became a people.

The commentaries on this moment are remarkable for how broadly they describe the receiving of the Torah. 

• The Midrash Tanchuma teaches that the Torah was given in the wilderness because “just as the wilderness is ownerless, available to all, so too the words of Torah are ownerless, available to all.” 
• Another midrashic text, Shemot Rabbah, goes further, teaching that “not only those who were in the wilderness stood at Sinai, but also the souls of all future generations.” 
• The 19th-century Hasidic master Sefat Emet wrote that the divine voice was heard differently by each person, “according to their capacity,” and that the giving of Torah was both a singular moment and an ongoing, living one.

Together, these teachings say something radical: we were all there. Each of us received a message that was both personal and communal, belonging not to one person or one group, but to all of us, for all time. And each time we interpret, innovate, or uncover something new from within our tradition, we become part of the great unfolding story of Sinai.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, in conversations with graduating seniors facing what I can only describe as their own wilderness: the uncertainty of life after college.

A memory from my own time of wandering keeps coming back to me.

In June 2008, I had just finished a master’s degree in history at UC Santa Cruz. My plan had been to pursue a PhD and become an academic historian. But somewhere along the way, it became clear that wasn’t the right path. I didn’t know what else to do, and I was terrified. I was applying for jobs frantically, feeling lost in that wilderness, my story wide open.

Around that same time, a beloved rabbi was leaving Santa Cruz Hillel, where I’d been involved throughout my time as an undergrad and in graduate school. A committee asked me to help with the search for a new staff member. 

Then, after we’d interviewed a couple of candidates, one of the committee members turned to me and said, “Heather, why haven’t you applied for this position?”

It was my Sinai moment — a moment of personal revelation within the communal.

I had never considered working for Hillel. But the more I sat with the question, the better it felt. Hillel had always been a reliable, loving space for me, no matter what else was happening in my life. Why not give back to something that had given me so much, and create that kind of space for others? When I look back now, I realize that Hillel was also there for me in that moment, offering a path forward. 

Like Moses at the burning bush, it wasn’t just that I happened to be in the wilderness. I had to have the courage to own the uncertainty before the path forward could reveal itself.

That was 18 years ago. I’m still working for Hillel, now as a rabbi, a teacher of Torah.

This story has become part of my own Torah, a moment I return to when I’m facing a new wilderness, or sitting with a student who is facing theirs. When we’re feeling lost, it’s tempting to narrow our vision, to reach for the familiar because the unknown is frightening. But Shavuot reminds us that we are all standing at Sinai, each receiving the divine voice according to our own capacity. Sometimes it arrives through a friend or mentor who sees something in us we couldn’t see in ourselves.

As Reb Zalman Schachter-Shalomi z”l taught, the divine broadcast is eternal; “the question is whether we have our receivers turned on and tuned to the right frequency.”

The Kabbalists also taught us to read the Hebrew word “midbar,” wilderness, as “midaber,” to speak, to tell, to create worlds with our words. Revelation is not only about what we receive. It’s about how we respond.

Many of my students, especially the graduating seniors, are standing in their own wilderness right now. With Shavuot approaching, I encourage all of you to tune in. Notice who is standing with you at Sinai. Open yourself to whatever message comes through. Torah belongs to all of us, and the messages and the teachings are still guiding each of us through our own personal and shared wilderness.

What is the message meant for you? And what will you do when you receive it?

Rabbi Heather Paul is the senior Jewish educator at Illini Hillel.

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Hillel Stories

Welcome to Hillel

Welcome to Hillel: Finding My Place at College

Author

Katie Comrov

Date

September 4, 2025

“Welcome to Hillel” is a series of letters from current students welcoming first-year students to Hillel communities. Katie Comrov, a third-year student at the University of Illinois studying advertising and business, shares the way that her early days on campus were deeply impacted by her introduction to Hillel. Read Katie’s welcome:

When I think back to the first few days of my college experience at the University of Illinois, I remember feeling a mix of excitement and fear. I was stepping onto campus with so many unknowns swirling in my mind: Would I make friends? Would I feel at home here? Would I find people who understood me, my background, and the values I grew up with? The truth is, starting college can feel overwhelming. You’re suddenly surrounded by thousands of people, all trying to figure out who they are and where they belong. For me, Hillel was the community that gave me an anchor to navigate those unknowns.

Walking into my first Hillel event felt like a breath of fresh air. I didn’t know many people then, but what I found there was warmth, inclusivity, and a sense of belonging I hadn’t realized I was missing until that moment. Everyone was so open, welcoming, and genuinely happy to see new faces. It didn’t matter if you came alone or with a group of friends; people made room for you, both at the table and in the conversation. That small act of hospitality meant the world to me as a nervous first-year student.

I also remember attending my first Shabbat dinner. It was loud, joyful, and full of energy, with students laughing, sharing stories, and passing challah around the table. I instantly felt connected to something bigger than myself. It wasn’t only about the ritual or the meal; it was about being part of a community that celebrated tradition while also creating new memories together. For the first time since arriving on campus, I felt truly at home.

Getting involved with Hillel changed my entire college experience. It gave me friends who have become like family, mentors who have guided me, and opportunities I never imagined when I first walked in the door. Through Hillel, I found leadership roles that pushed me out of my comfort zone, programs that helped me grow spiritually and personally, and countless moments of joy that reminded me why community matters.

For any first-year student reading this: I know how easy it is to get caught up in the whirlwind of college life: classes, clubs, and the pressure to figure everything out. But I want to encourage you to make space for Hillel. Even if you just stop by for a Shabbat dinner, a coffee, or a holiday celebration, you’ll discover a network of people who will support you through the ups and downs of your college journey.

Looking back, I can’t imagine college without Hillel. It has given me a sense of grounding and belonging during a time when everything else felt new and uncertain. My advice to you is simple: give yourself the chance to step into this community. You don’t have to have it all figured out. Just come with an open mind, and you’ll find people ready to welcome you.

If you’re searching for a place where Jewish life thrives, where tradition meets friendship, and where you can grow into the best version of yourself, Hillel is waiting for you.

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100 Years of Hillel Stories

Author

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Date

May 22, 2023

Hillel is turning 100! In honor of this milestone and to mark the launch of the Hillel Alumni Network, we asked alumni from throughout Hillel’s rich history to share their memories with us. We’ve compiled their memories into a Hillel Scrapbook and are excited to share these excerpts with you:

Susan Fendrick, Brown University ‘84: During my first week of classes at Brown University in September 1979, I went to a meeting to organize Reform High Holiday services. I met Sharon, a sophomore, and by Yom Kippur morning services—when I arrived late, ran quickly up to the bimah, sat next to her, and we both started giggling—our friendship was sealed. 

Sharon and I spent the year shuttling between Hillel (Shabbat services and dinners) and progressive organizations (a radical student newspaper and anti-nuclear activism), between her Grad Center suite and my Morris-Champlain dorm room. She went to Israel the following year, and I went the year after that; we lived in a group house when I returned, and she stayed in Providence after graduation, and our close friendship was a constant thread in our lives.

Over the past nearly 44 years, we have been through and shared relationships lost and found, the tragic deaths of several dear friends, living together, moving up and down the Northeast Corridor, getting married, the death of parents, the arrival of children. We have logged many hundreds (thousands?) of hours of intense phone conversations and countless emails, communicating about everything under the sun: Israel, moral quandaries, progressive politics, the endless parsing of interpersonal dynamics…and laughing, always laughing.

Rabbi Sharon Cohen Anisfeld and I have lived in the same city for the past two decades. She is the President of Hebrew College; I am also a rabbi, a Judaic studies editor, and a spiritual director. We are not as close as we once were, but we are forever connected, our friendship a testament to the fact that a lifelong relationship can have many parshiyot (chapters).

And it all started at Hillel.

Andrea Hoffman, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign ‘96: In 1986, I was sitting in the Hillel lounge with a few friends watching the space shuttle Challenger launch, and then tragically collapse. Our Hillel’s Executive Director, Rabbi Mark Mulgay was there with us and I honestly don’t remember much about that day other than total shock and his calming presence. Flash forward to 2012 when I was the Executive Director at the University of Chicago Hillel and a student walked in with his father, Rabbi Mark Mulgay. I reminded him of that day in 1986 and we shared an amazing moment. I told Mark that while I hoped we never faced that type of tragedy while his son was at UChicago, I promised I would try to be the same kind of presence for his son that he, Mark, was for me.

Judy and Michael Turk, Brooklyn College ‘70: There used to be a saying at Brooklyn College Hillel, “I met my spouse in Hillel House”. We met there more than 50 years ago and we’re still friends with some of the wonderful people we met at Hillel.

Robin Frost, Arizona State University ‘75: My husband and I met on Shabbat, March 7, 1971. It was love at first sight for me.  I even have a picture of him standing next to the candles as they were lit.  We were married for nearly 30 years before he passed away.  I loved my time spent with friends at Hillel; so many adventures and so much fun!

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