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