Rabbi's Blog

This past week I spent a day in PA. I started out in Hershey, not because I was taking the kids to Hershey Park, but to visit a local Jew in the hospital. On the way home I went to put up mezuzahs by a Jewish woman who lives by the PA/MD border.

Being a Rabbi comes with all sorts of perks and challenges. Ultimately, my days needs to be guided by "what does Hashem want from me today?".

In this week's Torah portion, it tells us that "The princes (tribe leaders) brought the Shoham stones". Since all the dedications for the tabernacle were brought before they got there, they didn't know what to offer. So, they donated the Shoham stones, etc.

A leader's primary responsibility is to ensure that the community members fulfill their role. Ideally, if leaders execute their role effectively, the people will rise to the occasion and contribute all they can. This is exactly what happened by the building of the tabernacle. The only contributions left for the tribe leaders to bring were those that the people simply did not possess.

The leaders still got a little flack. They were lax in ensuring that they too can partner in the mishkan building process. While a leader's primary responsibility is to guide and inspire others, he cannot neglect his own personal service of G‑d.

We too are each a leader. Sometimes of others and sometimes of ourselves. While we need to make sure that others are taken care of, we also must be on top of our own spiritual self-care.

Why shlep to Hershey, PA? Because when you are in a hospital far from home, you need to know that your community leaders care about you. Why the mezuzahs? Because this woman is making sure that her family is taking care of their spirituality and it's my job to support that. Additionally, doing mitzvahs for others is my own spiritual self-care. After all, the Baal Shem Tov writes that a soul comes into the world for 70-80 years just to do a favor for another, spiritually or physically.

Have a good Shabbos,
Rabbi Kushi Schusterman

I have met people who seem distant from traditional Jewish life, yet they display real sacrifice to express and ensure their Jewish identity isn't hidden.

Paradoxically, we find many Jewish communities evaluate themselves and others based on outward observance, measuring adherence to Jewish Law as the quantifier of religious commitment.

True Jewish law and practice remain the foundation of our tradition. However, Purim reveals that Hashem's connection to each and every Jewish soul operates on a level that transcends this accounting.

The Purim story unfolds without overt miracles or explicit mention of the Divine Name. At the same time, when the Jews faced annihilation, even those who participated in the non-kosher (immoral?) party that Achashverosh hosted demonstrated a commitment to their Jewish identity.

Kabalistically, every Jewish person possesses a unique capacity for true oneness to not separate themselves from G-d's unity under any circumstances whatsoever.

Consider the paradox: Purim allows for work, unlike the formal sanctity markers of other holidays, yet Purim is considered spiritually superior to even the biblically mandated festivals. Even Yom Kippur is called Yom HaKiPurim, the day that is like Purim. This teaches us that holiness sometimes manifests precisely where we don't expect to find it.

Similarly, the souls who may seem distant from traditional observance may nevertheless carry within them that same spark of mesirus nefesh (self-sacrifice) that characterized the Jews of Purim. Their connection to Hashem stems from the level of G-dliness where "there is in fact no distinction between what we experience as 'bad' and 'good,' darkness or light."

When we internalize that Hashem's love operates from this transcendent level, we can begin to see each Jew through the deeper reality of their essential connection to the Divine and not through the lens of their current religious practice.

This is not to diminish the importance of mitzvot or Torah study but to recognize the connection that exists even before and beyond religious practice.

Therefore, on Purim we are encouraged to get to a point where we have no knowledge of the difference between Haman and Mordechai. This can help us tap into our soul level, seeing each other as Hashem's child, regardless of where we each stand religiously. And perhaps then, we can seize the moment to shine forth and connect with tradition in a way we never allowed ourselves to.

When we approach each other with this awareness, recognizing that Hashem's love reaches every Jewish soul regardless of their current level of observance, we participate in revealing that higher unity that Purim celebrates – where distinctions fade and we glimpse, if only for a moment, the undifferentiated love that flows from the Divine Essence itself.

Happy Purim and good Shabbos.

Rabbi Kushi Schusterman