Rachel Fragin's recollections of growing up Jewish in Leningrad are interrupted by bleating from her 15 goats which supply her family and neighbors with organic goat milk, yogurt, cheese.

When she immigrated to Israel about 20 years ago she hunted for a community that would be idealistic and allow her to try organic farming. She found Bat Ayin.

The road to Bat Ayin, about an hour out of Jerusalem, is carved into curvaceous hills. Getting there requires a stop at a checkpoint for a once-over from a young IDF soldier. The road winds alongside scrubby pines and boulders ranging from blonde to terracotta jut through the dry grass.

Another checkpoint stands about 20 yards away from the one that guards the entrance to Gush Etzion—the area south of Jerusalem in southern Judea, where some 70,000 Jews live in about 22 distinct settlements.

Bat Ayin, on the edge of the Judean hills, is populated by scholars, artists, writers, musicians, farmers, and doctors. Chabad representatives Rabbi Ramiel and Sylvia Maor were one of Bat Ayin’s founders, twenty years ago.

Originally conceived as a village that would sustain itself through agriculture, today's Bat Ayin householders maintain home gardens or mini-flocks like Fragin and leave the village by day to earn a living.

Residents estimate that 90 to 95 percent of Bat Ayin's community is made up of people raised in secular homes who adopted a religiously observant lifestyle as adults. Many are immigrants from English speaking countries.

“People here are spiritual. They are searching,” said Naama Berkey, a local artist, whose daughter is in Mrs. Maor's kindergarten class at the village school. “I see depth and beauty in their faces.”

In other parts of the world, Chabad serves as a starting point for Jews interested in deepening their commitment to mitzvot. In Bat Ayin, Chabad reaches families who have made that leap and helps them answer the question, “Now what?”

A turbulent childhood took Raizy Itzkowitz, a social worker known for her lush sketches, from Brooklyn to Florida and then Georgia. She and husband Avraham made Bat Ayin their home 10 years ago with the thought that their lives would be guided by a so-called system of "Chababkuk," a combination of spiritual philosophies from the Chasidic teachings of Chabad and Breslov and the religious Zionist ideology of Rabbi Avraham Kook. That changed when they started a family. 

“When we had kids, we knew we had to settle down, choose one way so the kids would not be confused.” She attends Mrs. Maor's Tuesday night class and a class in Chasidic texts given by Miriam Rhodes, a well known mentor and spiritual guide. “I feel close to Chabad more and more. It feels right to me.”

The Maors understand where community members like Mrs. Itzkowitz are coming from, having traveled the road to Chabad themselves. Rabbi Maor was serving in Israel's Navy when he started to study and observe Torah with greater intensity and went on to study in Chabad yeshivot. Mrs. Maor was raised in Jerusalem and attended a Chabad-run high school and seminary.

“We honor each path, but we do not offer a mix,” said Rabbi Maor. “We are Chabadniks committed to spreading the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe.”

Twelve years ago, the Maors received the go ahead to make their informal holiday programs and Torah classes an official Chabad center branch. They turned their three bedroom home into a Chabad house and bought another property for themselves and their 13 children. The center, which has views of Jerusalem and the Mediterranean on a clear day, retains a homey quality.

Couches fill in for the synagogue's back bench. More than 50 people join Chabad for Shabbat services. A covered overhang built last year helps accommodate some of the overflow. The Maors would like to expand but do not have the funds to do it, nor do community members. Israeli salaries, even with simple living, do not leave much money for extras. 

The Maors fill their days teaching adults and hosting weekly Chasidic gatherings, farbrengens, but reserve the bulk of their time for children's programs.

“We do a lot of work to strengthen the children,” said Mrs. Maor. That means they work to address the challenges religious novices encounter as they work to imbue their children with traditional Jewish values, often considerably different from the ones they grew up with. Chabad of Bat Ayin hosts Friday night children's services, “Bat Melech” weekly club gatherings for Jewish girls, Saturday afternoon Shabbat parties, and holiday events all year long. Their most recent event, a Lag B'Omer parade, rally and raffle, drew a crowd of 350 children.

Ariella Ruderman attended the Lag B'Omer festivities with two-month-old Rivka cradled in her arms. Mrs. Ruderman discovered Chabad philosophy in Santa Monica, CA, studied at Bat Ayin's seminary, and led the Jewish Learning Initiative  with husband Rabbi David Ruderman at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst. Last year, she and her family moved to Israel. Coming from Amherst where the religious Jewish community is small and close, Mrs. Ruderman has become more involved with Chabad because it offers a similar sense of interconnectedness. After baby Rivka's birth, “it was nice to have a life cycle event with people who know who you are,” Mrs. Ruderman said.

The sense of belonging in Bat Ayin has a fragile feel to it. When powerbrokers discuss redrawing the map of Israel to exclude portions settled after 1967, they are actually talking about dismantling villages like Bat Ayin. Despite or because of this, Bat Ayin is growing. An offshoot of the village, Bat Ayin Bet, is now home to over 20 families. Mrs. Fragin is building a second story on her house for her married daughter and her family.

“The people here feel very strongly that this land is ours and we should not give it away,” said Mrs. Maor. She pauses. She looks over the throng of stroller parked in the community building lobby, gives way for a knot of boys wearing a rainbow of cereal-bowl sized knitted kipas to exit. “We are expecting Moshiach.