Rabbi's Blog

There are certain things that need to be constant. They always need to be happening, not just last for a week or a year. They are beyond time.

The Torah tells us that the fire on the altar in the Holy Temple must always burn, without interruption. What makes this commandment remarkable is that even in a state of ritual impurity and even on Shabbos, the holiest day of the week, when nearly all labor is forbidden, the fire must burn.

Constantly

There are times when we may think we don't need a fire. We are in a state of ‘Shabbos’; attending every program, every class and fully invested in our spiritual experience. We feel at the peak of our religiosity. Even then, the Torah tells us that we need to keep the fire burning. That experience must not just technically be complete, another thing on our checklist, but also with passion, with fire.

Additionally, there are times when we feel very distant, impure. Times when we feel it is hard to generate a fire, an excitement for Judaism. In times of revealed antisemitism, it gets harder to be passionate, to be excited, to be outwardly Jewish. Yet, even in those times, even when we're feeling distant, the fire must not go out, we need to remain constantly excited.

And if the fire is missing, the sanctuary is incomplete. We can't convince ourselves that all is good as long as we're doing what we need to be doing. The fire must constantly burn! We must feel connected to the Torah that we study. Prayer should feel like a conversation with G-d; building an active relationship with Him. Acts of kindness and mitzvot must be done with excitement, passion and in a way that's contagious. Doing so will attract others to do the same; who doesn’t want to be part of something awesome and alive?

This is the challenge that the Amalekites created. They created a coldness, a frigidity, a lack of passion in our service of G-d. Amalek wanted us to feel that our Judaism was just habit and tradition/history. The antidote to that is the constant fire. Even though we are in exile, with challenges, we must remain alive, passionate and on fire.

Keep your fire burning,

Always  Constantly

Have a good Shabbos,

Rabbi Kushi Schusterman 

As Rabbis go, I’m a good one, not mediocre or average, Good! This is not my ego talking, and if I told you otherwise, that wouldn’t be humility, it would be a lie.

I also recognize that I can’t take the credit. My upbringing, my experiences, the way my mind works, the way I connect with people, none of that was manufactured by me. It was given to me by Hashem.

Eighteen years ago, I was doing my Rabbinical residency in Buenos Aires, Argentina. At a late-night Chassidic farbrengen, Rabbi Shabtai Slavaticki shared something from the previous Rebbe, something I’ve never forgotten. “Just as you must know your shortcomings, so too, you must recognize your positive qualities.”

He spent the next few hours telling us that the message from the previous Rebbe is not permission to be arrogant, it is an assignment. Your talents aren’t just yours to enjoy. The gifts Hashem gave you become your responsibilities, the specific things only you can give back to the world.

Worried about your ego getting in the way? The antidote is to remember what Moshe taught and thought, “someone else with my gifts would do more with them than I am”. Show gratitude to Hashem by using your talents for good.

The last letter of the first word in this week’s parsha, the alef in the word Vayikra, and G-d calls to Moshe, is written small. Why? Because Moshe Moshe remained “small”-humble.

He knew, and everyone knew, that Hashem was speaking directly to him. However, even in that moment of extraordinary intimacy with Hashem, he told himself, “Someone else with my gifts would do more with them than I am”.

That small Alef is the balance: courage and self-esteem on one side, humility and gratitude on the other.

That balance of self-respect and humility is what we try to model for our kids, our students, and, honestly, for ourselves. It's a lifelong balancing act, and the attempt itself is a form of greatness.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Kushi Schusterman

Are you working for a living or living for your work?

We all know the juggle. On one hand, we believe that everything comes from G-d. On the other hand, we've got bills, deadlines, clients, and a business to run. So does G-d provide or do we need to hustle?

In this week’s parsha, Parshas Vayakhel, the Torah says, "Six days work shall be performed." The Chassidic masters point out something fascinating about this phrasing: it doesn't say, as is commonly mistranslated, "six days you shall work." It says work shall be performed, passively, as if the work happens on its own. That's a strange way to talk about your 9-to-5 (or, let's be honest, your 7-to-10).

But here's what the Parsha is getting at. The root of idol worship was never about people bowing to rocks for no reason. It started when people recognized that G-d channels His blessings through intermediaries like the sun, stars, and other natural forces, and they began treating those channels as if they had independent power. They started honoring the messengers and forgetting the Sender.

When a person gets too invested in their business, not just working hard, but believing that their success depends on their cleverness and their hustle, that's a subtle form of the same mistake. You're treating the intermediary (your job, your business) as if it's the source. You're bowing to the pipeline instead of Hashem who fills it.

Your business is like an ax cutting a tree. You need to hold the ax and swing it. But the moment you start thinking the ax is doing the cutting on its own, you've lost your mind.

Our work should be done as a matter of course and not with the frantic energy of someone who thinks it's all dependent on them. It should be with the confidence of someone who knows that their sustenance is coming from Above, and the work is simply the channel.

Before you close your laptop and take a nap, this doesn't mean you shouldn't work hard. Quite the opposite. The teaching says: invest your effort, do your job well, show up and labor. However, do it with the trust that it's G-d who's providing. As the verse says, "G-d your L-rd will bless you in all that you do". There needs to be something "you do" for the blessing to flow through.

The key is your mindset. Work hard, but don't worship the work. Put in the effort and recognize that success isn't coming from your brilliance alone. When you do that, something remarkable happens: the stress drops, but the productivity doesn't.

This week, try this: before you dive into your workday, take a moment to remind yourself that your business is a channel, not a source. You'll still put in the hours. You'll still make the calls. And you'll do it with a lighter grip; like someone who knows the Boss upstairs has already signed off on the paycheck.

That's not laziness, it's faith in action.

Shabbat Shalom!

Rabbi Kushi Schusterman

P.S. This is exactly the lesson embedded in the aftermath of the Golden Calf, which we just read about last week. The Calf wasn't just a random mistake. It was the ultimate example of people investing spiritual energy into an intermediary and treating it as the source. The process of rectifying that sin plays out in this week’s Torah portion, where the Torah reframes how we approach our work and our material lives. When you conduct your business "as a matter of course", doing what needs to be done while knowing it's really G-d running the show, you're actively fixing the spiritual root of the Golden Calf. You're saying: "I use tools, but I don't worship them."