Rabbi's Blog

A Zen master visiting New York City goes up to a hot dog vendor and says, "Make me one with everything."
The hot dog vendor fixes a hot dog and hands it to the Zen master, who pays with a $20 bill.
The vendor puts the bill in the cash box and closes it. "Excuse me, but where’s my change?" asks the Zen master.
The vendor responds, "Change must come from within."

Korach incites a mutiny in this week's Torah portion, challenging Moses’s leadership and the granting of the kehunah (priesthood) to Aaron. He is accompanied by Moses’s inveterate foes, Dathan and Abiram. Joining them are 250 distinguished members of the community, who offer the sacrosanct ketoret (incense) to prove their worthiness for the priesthood. The earth opens up and swallows the mutineers and a fire consumes the ketoret-offerers.

Did you know that the prophet Samuel was a descendant of one of Korach's sons? Interestingly, during the revolt, the sons of Korach experienced a change of heart, accompanied by internal regret and remorse, but they continued to fight. This form of repentance, referred to as "Hirhur Teshuva" in the Talmud, involves contemplating the need for repentance.

Is there a point in contemplating change but not implementing it? Is real change possible?

None of us are perfect. We all make mistakes. Sometimes, we find ourselves on the verge of doing something we know is wrong and we experience a twinge of regret even before committing the act. This feeling of regret is the key to change. It is the starting point, no matter how insignificant it may seem, that opens up the possibility for transformation.

We ought to acknowledge and support this sense of remorse and, of course, strive to transform it into meaningful action. Eventually, even an imperfect person who merely contemplates repentance can become the catalyst for greatness, as exemplified by the emergence of a prophet like Shmuel from the son of Korach.

If you ever find yourself burdened with remorse, remember that you possess incredible potential! It is the first step towards change.

Is change possible? If you acknowledge its necessity, then yes, it is.

Wishing you a wonderful Shabbos,

Rabbi Kushi Schusterman

A Zen master visiting New York City goes up to a hot dog vendor and says, "Make me one with everything."
The hot dog vendor fixes a hot dog and hands it to the Zen master, who pays with a $20 bill.
The vendor puts the bill in the cash box and closes it. "Excuse me, but where’s my change?" asks the Zen master.
The vendor responds, "Change must come from within."

Korach incites a mutiny in this week's Torah portion, challenging Moses’s leadership and the granting of the kehunah (priesthood) to Aaron. He is accompanied by Moses’s inveterate foes, Dathan and Abiram. Joining them are 250 distinguished members of the community, who offer the sacrosanct ketoret (incense) to prove their worthiness for the priesthood. The earth opens up and swallows the mutineers and a fire consumes the ketoret-offerers.

Did you know that the prophet Samuel was a descendant of one of Korach's sons? Interestingly, during the revolt, the sons of Korach experienced a change of heart, accompanied by internal regret and remorse, but they continued to fight. This form of repentance, referred to as "Hirhur Teshuva" in the Talmud, involves contemplating the need for repentance.

Is there a point in contemplating change but not implementing it? Is real change possible?

None of us are perfect. We all make mistakes. Sometimes, we find ourselves on the verge of doing something we know is wrong and we experience a twinge of regret even before committing the act. This feeling of regret is the key to change. It is the starting point, no matter how insignificant it may seem, that opens up the possibility for transformation.

We ought to acknowledge and support this sense of remorse and, of course, strive to transform it into meaningful action. Eventually, even an imperfect person who merely contemplates repentance can become the catalyst for greatness, as exemplified by the emergence of a prophet like Shmuel from the son of Korach.

If you ever find yourself burdened with remorse, remember that you possess incredible potential! It is the first step towards change.

Is change possible? If you acknowledge its necessity, then yes, it is.

Wishing you a wonderful Shabbos,

Rabbi Kushi Schusterman

Here's the gist of the story: Moshe led the Jewish people out of Egypt and into the wilderness. He sent spies to explore the Promised Land. They reported that it was fertile and beautiful, but its inhabitants were strong and powerful. The Jewish people became discouraged and wanted to return to Egypt, blaming Moshe and Aaron for their situation.

Yehoshua and Calev, two spies who had seen the Promised Land, tried to uplift the people's spirits. They believed that, with Hashem's help, the Jewish people could conquer the land. However, the majority remained unconvinced, preferring death in the wilderness over facing the challenges of the Promised Land.

This angered Hashem, who felt spurned by the Jewish people. He threatened to kill them, and create a new, more faithful nation. Moshe pleaded with Hashem, arguing that punishing the Jewish people would make Him appear weak to other nations. Hashem relented but decreed that the Jewish people would wander in the wilderness for 40 years.

It might seem strange to argue against rebuilding the Jewish people based on public relations. But that wasn’t Moshe’s intent. He was highlighting Hashem's kindness. Moshe reminded Hashem that He was slow to punish Noah’s generation (120 years) and was tolerant of the Egyptians for at least a year. Now His people who He chose and cares about so much, deserve the same. Moshe questioned the justice in being harsher on them after they had just received the Torah.

Just as a child, even after the age of 13 (bar mitzvah), may exhibit silliness, the parent needs to recognize that he is still a child and be tolerant and help them grow, so too Moshe implored Hashem to be tolerant of the newly formed Jewish nation.

True greatness doesn't depend on public opinion but on who you truly are. Moshe's closing argument of “Let the power of Hashem be great" was about reminding Hashem of His built-in benevolence, greatness, and fairness, rather than mere public perception.

How can we elicit a response from someone who is about to do something not so great, and bring out their inherent greatness/patience as Moshe - so to speak - did for Hashem? 

Have a good, tolerant and compassionate Shabbos,

Rabbi Kushi Schusterman

The lighting of the Menorah seems to be a task reserved for the Kohen and does not concern the average Jew. We know that Torah is exact in its wording and no word is extra. Why then does the Torah, which is applicable to all Jews, repeatedly emphasize the significance of lighting the Menorah in detail?

One important message conveyed is the value of inspiring and uplifting others, a responsibility we all share. This week's Torah portion begins with "When you raise up the lights..." This means that when lighting the menorah, the Kohen needs to ensure that the flame continues to burn on its own.

When we want to uplift and strengthen others, we need to help them recognize their own light and potential. Realizing how strong and beautiful our own light is gives us the ability to shine and illuminate the outside world.

The Torah repeatedly mentions this lighting, teaching us the importance of inspiring others. We shouldn't just provide temporary inspiration, instead, we should uplift others to the point where they can recognize their own leadership qualities and shine independently.

When our goal is to uplift others, we should empower them to shine on their own, even when the initial burst of inspiration fades away.

Wishing you an inspiring Shabbos,

Rabbi Kushi Schusterman

P.S. This is an interesting relevant snippet from Israeli Ambassador Yehuda’s meeting with the Lubavitcher Rebbe in 1978.

“I will tell you what I’m trying to do . . . Reb Yehuda, imagine you are looking at a cupboard, and I tell you to open that cupboard. You open the cupboard, and you see there a candle, but I tell you that it is not a candle—it is a lump of wax with a piece of string inside. When does the wax and the wick become a candle? When one brings a flame to the wick. That is when the wax and the wick fulfill the purpose for which they were created.

“And that is what I try to do—to help every man and woman fulfill the purpose for which they were created.”

I was sitting there listening to him, impressed by the authority in his voice. And then he said these words:

“Ha-esh, zeh esh ha-Torah—the fire is the fire of the Torah. When one brings the flame to the wick, one ignites the soul—for the wick is the soul—and it gives life to the body, which is the wax. And then the body and the soul fulfill the purpose for which they were created. And that happens through the fire of Torah.”

By the time my meeting with the Rebbe was over, it was past two in the morning. For the last hour, a buzzer had been buzzing intermittently, and only later did I realize that the door couldn’t be opened unless the Rebbe released the latch from the inside. But he didn’t. He merely said, “Al tityaches—don’t pay attention.”

Finally, I rose and he escorted me to the door. He took hold of both my hands to say goodbye, and I said, “Has the Rebbe lit my candle?”

He answered, “No. I have given you the match. Only you can light your own candle.”

 Excerpt from https://www.harfordchabad.org/2252758/The-String-and-the-Flame.htm