Rabbi's Blog

Self-sacrifice is ingrained in the Jewish experience.

It’s important. It’s a value. It’s a foundation. However, it’s important to understand what it is. Sacrifice does not always look like martyrdom, G-d forbid, where someone loses their life. Often, self-sacrifice takes a quieter but no less courageous form: risking one’s comfort, reputation, or social standing. It can mean doing what is right even when others warn you it will look bad, when people may laugh, criticize, or make you feel out of place.

We see this two times in this week’s Torah portion. The Jews are told that they need to take a sheep and hold it for a few days prior to the Passover sacrifice. Why did they need to take it for a few days? Because the Egyptians worshiped the sheep. When asked what they planned to do with it, the Jews answered honestly: “We are going to sacrifice it to G-d.” They knew this could provoke anger, even violence. Yet they were confident they were doing what was right and were willing to accept the risk. They stood up for their values even though it was deeply uncomfortable and socially unacceptable.

Let’s not forget that the Jews at that time were not observant in the conventional sense. Many of them also served idols. Yet they still all took a lamb and tied it to their bedpost for four days. Regardless of where they stood spiritually, they made a clear statement: we belong to the G-d of Israel.

We see this again with Nachshon, the son of Aminadav, who went into the sea. There was no way for him to know that the sea would split. However, he went in because he understood one thing: I need to get to Mount Sinai. That’s what G-d told us to do. He didn’t care about the risks, he just focused on the goal of doing what was needed.

The same thing applies in our lives. When we try to encourage someone and bring them closer to Torah and mitzvot, when we invite someone to a program or experience that can bring them closer to their Jewish heritage, there is sometimes a cost. It may mean giving up social comfort or political capital. It may mean feeling exposed or uncomfortable.

Outer and internal voices may speak up: “Who are you to do this? You’re not perfect. You’re not the most religious person in the room. Why are you encouraging others?”

Nonetheless, we should learn from the Jews in Egypt and from Nachshon: move forward. Focus on the goal. Our task is not to be perfect, but to help every Jew find a meaningful connection to their heritage.

When we do that, we open the door to revealed miracles, like the splitting of the sea and the Exodus from Egypt. And ultimately, we help ourselves and others leave our own personal Egypts: our limitations, our fears, and our inner forms of exile.

Have a liberating Shabbos,

Rabbi Kushi Schusterman

What is the difference between apathy and ignorance? I don’t know, and I don’t care. - Author Unknown

I got a call from a fellow Chabad Shliach asking how to get more Shluchim to adhere to the Rebbe’s request of distributing handmade Shmurah Matzah to their entire Jewish community for Passover. He noted that most shluchim can’t even fathom that they can get it to every household.

The reality is that sometimes we don’t think big enough. We are all apathetic to certain things. Not that we think it’s bad, we just can’t fathom doing something on such a large scale, or, it’s not in our wheelhouse. 

The Jews in Egypt couldn’t listen to Moshe due to the limitations of exile. They were so deep in the “grind” of “working so hard” that they couldn’t imagine a time when they would be free. 

To liberate them, Hashem sent 10 plagues in a specific order.

The first step to getting out of our personal limitations, our personal exiles, is to convert the cold water into blood, which is warm and the source of life. 

The second plague was frogs; cold yet alive. The frogs went into the ovens, the ultimate sacrifice, to cool down the passion and excitement for this physical world and those things that are not holy.

To rid yourself of exile, we need to bring energy and warmth to all holy matters. To be excited about an upcoming class, prayer service, or other spiritually inclined events. Coldness and apathy are the beginning of being stopped by the “dark side”. We need to be excited; it’s just a matter of time before we no longer remain involved. 

Then, we work on becoming apathetic toward the physical world and not to get excited about physical things. 

Get passionate about the good and become less passionate about the physical world.

If my fellow rabbis and I would get enthusiastic and passionate about giving matzah, moving beyond the exile mindset, we would be able to imagine a different world. One that does provide spirituality (Shmurah Matzah is called the bread of faith) to every single Jew in town. If we take a step back and become less passionate about the insignificant, we will be able to reach every single Jew in our communities. 

What is your messianic vision, and what is the exile mindset that is holding you back?

Have a liberating Shabbos,

Rabbi Kushi Schusterman 

Mazel tov to Rabbi Heschel and Doba on the birth of their daughter, Sarah Nechama.

In this week’s Torah portion, we read of Pharaoh’s brutal decree against the Jewish people: every baby boy was to be thrown into the Nile. And then the Torah adds: “and every baby girl shall be kept alive.”

This extra line seems unnecessary. Wouldn’t it have been enough to say that the boys were to be killed? The Torah never wastes words. By adding this second half, the Torah is teaching us something profound about children, education, and Jewish continuity.

The Haggadah, when explaining the phrase “our toil,” identifies it as referring to our children, and it proves this from this very verse: “Every boy shall be cast into the Nile, and every girl shall be kept alive.”

What does it mean that the girls should be “kept alive”? Pharaoh’s plan was not kindness. He encouraged the Egyptians to allow Jewish girls to live, but to absorb Egyptian values, culture, and identity. The goal was assimilation: to raise Jewish children who would forget that they were Jewish at all.

This decree did not end in Egypt. It exists in every generation.

Today, the pressure may not come from Pharaoh, but the message is familiar: prioritize your “Americanism,” your comfort, your success, before your Judaism. Blend in. Don’t stand out. Keep Judaism private or secondary.

How do we push back?

First, we must show, through our actions, that Judaism is our toil, our labor of love, our priority. When children see that our connection to Hashem matters, that Jewish life is something we invest time, energy, and joy into, they absorb that message deeply.

Second, we must remember that “children” are not defined only by age. There are also spiritual children; friends, neighbors, and peers, who may not have had the opportunity to truly connect with their Jewish heritage. Just as Pharaoh ultimately failed, and Jewish girls remained deeply connected to their identity, so too we can help others rediscover theirs. Sometimes all it takes is an invitation.

Do you prioritize your Judaism? Is there a friend you can bring along on that journey?

I happen to know a place hosting some great Jewish programs .
I recommend joining Chabad for  The World Is a Garden media production on January 28 at 7:30 PM, featuring a live string quartet taking place at Chabad .

Check it out and other upcoming events at www.harfordchabad.org/events.

Let’s keep our children, and ourselves, truly alive.

Have a Good Shabbos,

Rabbi Kushi Schusterman

P.S. This thought reminded me of a story about Prime Minister Golda Meir and Secretary of State Henry Kissinger. During an impasse in Middle East negotiations, Dr. Kissinger said, ''Golda, you must remember that first I am an American, second I am Secretary of State and third I am a Jew.'' Golda Meir responded, ''Henry, you forget that in Israel we read from right to left.''