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Rabbi's Blog

The Rabbi's thoughts culled from the "word from the Rabbi" in his weekly email

Are you willing to get your hands dirty?

Have you ever avoided doing something good because you were afraid of what it might cost you? Have you held back from reaching out to someone because you worried it might complicate your own life? Have you ever thought “I want to help, but not if it means getting my hands dirty?”

This week's Torah portion, Parshas Chukat-Balak, opens with one of the most mysterious commandments in the entire Torah: The Red Heifer. A perfectly red cow, completely unblemished, is taken outside the camp and burned to ash. Those ashes are mixed with water and then sprinkled on someone who has become spiritually impure, rendering them pure again.

Beautiful! But there is one astonishing detail: The Kohen who performs the purification ritual himself becomes impure in the process. The very act of purifying someone else makes him impure. The one who helps becomes the one who now needs help (albeit in a smaller way).

King Solomon, the wisest of men, said he understood every commandment in the Torah except this one. It doesn't follow the rules. It doesn't make logical sense.

That is precisely the point.

Some of the most important things we do in life don't fit neatly into our personal spiritual spreadsheets. We can't always calculate the cost of kindness before we extend it. We can't always protect our own comfort while showing up fully for someone else. 

Those who drift from their Jewish identity, regardless of whether they grew up observant and life pulled them away, or they never really had a positive connection to begin with, are in the category of ‘impure*’ and need to be ‘purified*’. It is the responsibility of those around them to be the “Kohen”. Temporarily losing out on our own spirituality does not absolve us of the obligation.

It is natural to think: I'll invite the Jewish co-worker when I have the perfect Shabbos table. I'll reach out when I know exactly what to say. I'll engage with others spiritually when I'm sure it won't affect my own spiritual routine.

The Red Heifer commandment teaches us to go now. Even when it's inconvenient. Even when it might cost you something. Even when you don't fully understand why. Because their spark matters more than your comfort.

Put on your own oxygen mask first. You do need to tend to your own Jewish life. However, the Torah is also telling us that at times, the act of helping someone else breathe, is itself what keeps you alive.

You might finish that Shabbos dinner feeling like you gave more than you got. You might feel a little "impure", a little out of your routine, a little stretched. That's okay. That's the Red Heifer. That's what love in action sometimes looks like.

Reach out to one person (friend, family member, or neighbor) in your life whose connection to Jewish life is strained. Invite them to join you in something simple. A Shabbos dinner, a Torah class, or a conversation over coffee. Don't wait until you feel ready. They are ready and waiting. All that's missing is you being willing.

Wishing you a Shabbos filled with joy.

Rabbi Kushi Schusterman
 

* The terms "impure" and "purified" are used here in their halachic/ritual sense as defined by Torah law, not as a moral judgment or reflection of a person's worth. Every Jewish soul is inherently holy. These terms simply describe a state of spiritual disconnection, and the longing, conscious or not, to reconnect with the living G-d.

Live your best life!

Today is the 32nd yahrtzeit of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. 

Personally, today’s an important day. It’s a day that I remind myself that my responsibility is to follow the Rebbe’s lead.

The Rebbe is the Moses of our generation. The original Moses wanted to be the high priest. He wanted to go into the Holy of Holies and live a life of ecstasy and oneness with Hashem. Despite his high stature, his job was not to live a life sheltered in holiness, but to be a leader who lived in the physical world and transform it. His job was to get his hands dirty and deal with all people; the spiritually elevated and the deeply challenging alike.

Moses didn’t resent it, he embraced it. He understood that Hashem gives each of us a personalized, G-d-given mission. His was uniquely his, for his soul to fulfill its purpose in this world.

When Korach challenged Moses demanding the High Priesthood, Moses responded: I also want to be the high priest and yet Hashem has other plans for me. I recognize that I have to do MY mission and not someone else’s, and you should do YOUR mission. Moses also cautioned Korach that it’s dangerous to do someone else’s mission. Ignoring the warning, Korach suffered a fatal blow.

We need to see ourselves as Hashem does; An awesome soul in a body full of potential! We should recognize how amazing we are and how much good we can accomplish in the world. Often, instead of embracing our own uniqueness and the talents Hashem has given us, we look at others and think less of ourselves. We become jealous and want what someone else has, or to accomplish what someone else did.

Moses and the Rebbe saw every individual as a part of Hashem. We need to also see ourselves, and everyone around us, as our soul; untouchable and untainted. Anything negative is really an external shell.  Reach out to someone and reach inward to yourself. Recognize each one’s greatness, not from a place of ego but by seeing their soul.

Have a great Shabbos and I look forward to seeing many of you at Shabbat 100. We are blessed to have over 100 locals come together to join in the biggest Shabbat dinner in Harford County!

Rabbi Kushi Schusterman

You've Graduated

 

Imagine having a world-class coach in your corner. You bring her your questions, and she gives you clear direction on what to try and what to avoid. However, when you ask her about one particular project, whether to move forward with it or not, she pauses and says: "This decision is yours to make."

Would you do it?

Many people would hear that as the coach's way of saying no, not a good idea and refrain from going with it. Others may decide to take on the challenge.

Some may pause and try to figure out why the coach isn't guiding them and conclude that they are being told: "You've graduated from needing me to make decisions for you. You no longer need training wheels. You're an adult now and I trust you to make the right call."

Often, the focus of this week's parsha is the mistake of the spies sent to scout the land of Israel, causing that generation of Jews not to enter the land.

When reading inside, many commentaries hold that Moshe is the one at fault as he made the decision to send the spies. When Moshe asked Hashem whether to send the spies or not, Rashi explains Hashem’s response as: "Send for yourself, at your (Moshe's) discretion; I am not commanding you, but if you wish, send." Moshe should have understood that it was not a good decision.

However, the Rebbe explains that Moshe didn't hear Hashem say: "Beware, I, G-d, am not commanding you," Moshe heard, "You are now able to make decisions. I, Hashem, trust you to make the right one." Hashem was giving him agency to make his own decisions.

Moshe passed on this autonomy to the spies. The mistake they made was taking it too far.  Moshe asked for a report on what was happening in Israel. The spies did come back with a report, they took their autonomy too far and shared their conclusion.

Hashem clearly wanted them to enter the land; all they needed to do was report on how to go about it, but they erroneously concluded that they were unable to go in.

This isn't only a story from 3,337 years ago; it's a message for us today. Connecting with Hashem is not supposed to be robotic, simply following what we're told. We need to be human beings who think for ourselves and build our own personal relationship with Hashem. Simultaneously, we need to recognize where we have agency and where we should simply follow and not try to rewrite what Hashem asks of us.

Have a good Shabbos,

Rabbi Kushi Schusterman

 

Why are you searching under the streetlight?

A policeman sees a drunk man searching under a streetlight and asks what he's lost. "My keys," says the man. After searching together for a few minutes, the officer asks: "Are you sure you lost them here?"

"No," admits the man. "I lost them in the park."

"Then why are you searching here?!"

"Because," answers the man, "this is where the light is." -the principle of the drunkard's search.

We look for meaning in the familiar, connection in the convenient and our Jewish identity in the places that are easy, comfortable, and already lit up. However, sometimes, the real treasure is somewhere that requires us to do a little more work to illuminate.

In 1907, the Rebbe Rashab, Rabbi Sholom DovBer of Lubavitch, was at a health spa in Würzburg, Germany. A group of Chassidim came to spend Shabbos with him. After kiddush and a few heartfelt l'chaims, Reb Yosef Yuzik Horowitz asked a seemingly simple question:

"Rebbe, what is a chossid?"
"A chossid," said the Rebbe, "is a lamplighter. He walks the streets carrying a flame at the end of a stick. He knows the flame is not his. And he goes from lamp to lamp to set them alight."
"What if the lamp is in a desert?" questioned Reb Yosef Yuzik.
"Then one must go and light it. And when one lights a lamp in a desert, the desolation becomes visible. The barren wilderness will then be ashamed before the burning lamp."
"What if the lamp is at sea?" continues Reb Yosef Yuzik.
"Then one must undress, dive in, and go light it." Answered the Rebbe.
"But Rebbe, I do not see the lamps!" Reb Yosef Yuzik cries out.
"Because," said the Rebbe quietly, "you are not yet a lamplighter."
"How does one become a lamplighter?" asked Reb Yosef Yuzik.
"First, you must reject the evil within yourself. Start with yourself, cleanse yourself, refine yourself, and you will see the lamp within your fellow. When a person is himself coarse, G‑d forbid, he sees coarseness; when a person is himself refined, he sees the refinement in others."
Reb Yosef Yuzik then asked: "Is one to grab the other by the throat?"
Replied the Rebbe: "By the throat, no; by the lapels, yes."

Every single one of us is both a lamp waiting to be lit as well as a lamplighter for someone else.

Not everyone inspires the same way. Some, like my childhood rabbi, Rabbi Raichik of Los Angeles, led with such tenderness. When he had to tell you something wasn't kosher, he would sigh first as he genuinely wished you could have enjoyed it. His path was kindness.

Others inspire with rigor; a spiritual personal trainer who pushes you because they see what you're capable of.

Both are valid. In fact, there are seven pathways, like the seven branches of the Menorah, each casting its light at a different angle. Each illuminating something the others can't quite reach. The same soul may need a different flame at different moments in life.

Sometimes we inspire directly and at other times, the most powerful thing we can do is simply live in a way that makes others lean toward the light.

The Mishnah in Avot says: Be among the students of Aaron; loving peace, pursuing peace, loving people, and drawing them close to Torah. Not compromising the Torah. Attracting people toward it without watering it down.

It’s our job to be a lamplighter; to do whatever it takes to bring the light of Hashem and His Torah to others.

Where in your life are you searching under the streetlight, when your real keys are somewhere that needs you to bring the light?

Who do you know that might be an unlit lamp, waiting for someone to show up and light the way? You don't need to be a scholar or prepare a polished speech. Just carry the flame and walk toward them.

Even a genuine invite counts, we're 14 RSVPs from our goal for Shabbat100 😉.

As the Rebbe teaches: "By the throat, no. By the lapels, yes."

Warm regards and a bright Shabbos,

Rabbi Kushi Schusterman

P.S. I'm curious how/if you see this as relevant in your own life.

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