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.